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Brandon Conway Aug 2018
A person goes out to town to cure
Boredom or loneliness
Often looking to conquer both

Even an introvert wants company
It’s taken six years to go search

I found a coffee shop
With a black box room

I took a seat
And waited for the host
To start the show
Improv comedy
Never been to one of those

The host asked
What’s inside this invisible box
Answers came out from the audience

I said a can of worms
Not loud
I hate attention
But the host heard
And chose that can of worms

Someone listened to me
And now they are making
Me my own personal joke

I got to admit
I was jealous
Each member has conquered
The fear of people
Of being in front of people
Of speaking to people
Acting crazy in front of people

The show was great
We all had a laugh
One day I will thank them
And maybe one day
I’ll join on that stage

Just one foot in front of the other
Next week is a poetry reading
And that’s where I’ll be
Micah Alex Oct 2017
I haven't written at length for a long time now and my maelstorms are worse. I haven't written for my heart and the protest inside has reached a crescendo of violence. The dam is at its limit and I am the explosion waiting inside. My conductor has quit and the orchestra has lost its sanity, timbral destruction and cymbal apocalypse. I watch helplessly the drowning flutist and the bleeding pianist. Whale song rings in my ear all the time, and I am tired of this dismembering dissonance. My nostrils flare in the polluted river and the acid water has reached my lungs. They burn with the intensity of jealous stars and pull me in like black holes. Sometimes the heat is too much and the cold offers nightmarish dreams of death. So I bear the burden of two jackets soaked in ice water. My teeth, eyes and nails feel like they might fall into my food and I won't have the energy to even care for self-cannibalism. The church has fallen on our heads and my life is frothing at the mouth. The madness is finally settling in, violently setting up camp in my soul. My veins pulse rhythmically like the drums in a System of a Down song.

Father why have you forsaken me?

In your eyes forsaken me.

In your thoughts forsaken me.

In
your
heart
forsaken
me.
streaming
Pat Adamek Mar 2017
We were two objects of no value flowing down a river.
We bumped into each other and the experience was jarring but unlike anything either of us could explain in words that fit on the two dimensional space in our minds.
That was okay, I didn't need to say anything and neither did you.
So that's how it was.
Two objects of no value that clung to each other and flow down a river and for a long while it seemed we would never need to find the words to explain how we felt.
Then that storm came and the waters of the tributary flooded the land between rivers and we were washed around with all the debris.
Before I could come to an understanding of these events the river had become unfamiliar and large and wild and I was afraid.
I turned to you to say something but couldn't think of the words.
As I struggled in the waves and searched for the words I noticed we had been separated just a moment before and you were clinging to a branch that had floated too close.
As the river flowed ever forward we grew further and further apart.
As I looked around in my panic the river seemed to never end in any direction.
I thought we may float so far apart that I would never see you again.
I had been looking silently in the direction you floated for so long that, were I too unfix my gaze I would become hopelessly lost.
You, or the dot you had become, were my horizon. all I could see.
Too scared to look away from the comfort of your memory, I gave up.
Motionless, I was on shore. I had been for some time.
I stood up, because it was only then I realized I had feet, which is something of value, and it was as if a third dimension unfolded before me.
I walked out of a river, lost and alone and in awe of this wonderful world which had just been uncovered. Free.
I sometimes think about those days when I was subject to the current of a river and how you made it bearable. Now that I am out of the water and with two feet, stand confidently on land, I wonder,

would I have felt the same about you if we bumped into each other here.
Kyle Ray Smith Oct 2016
I was once able to improvise love
No I..I..Is
No Uh or Ums
Just I love you....
I didn’t realize that I never meant it

Then, one day, she arrived
The only available words were....Hi
Cheeks
Cheeks Cheeks Cheeks
I wanted to kiss her cheeks like it was the first time eating an apple
I wanted to kiss her cheeks like it was a chocolate cake and I was five
I wanted to kiss her cheeks like yesterday was the day i was given the gift of lips
I...I...I..wanted to kiss her cheeks like..Um..Uh

I was Once Able to Improvise Love
JR Rhine Jun 2016
Thomas, Tommy baby,
you are both hot,
and sweet.

Tom Cat you’re red hot--
when I catch you in your Tom Cat Strut,
sauntering across campus,
strolling like it ain’t no thing,

cuz it don’t meant a thing
if it ain’t got that swing baby.

So dig this, Tommy Gun,
you groove with the best of ‘em
when I spot you strollin’—

Your head, teetering left and right like a seesaw, boppin’ baby,
arms hangin’ loosely, swinging freely, wildly, go! go!
legs scooping forward in boisterous trombone slides--
Groooooove Tommy baby!

You’re Louis’s best blows--
ten feet from the mic and the Fives baby,
you’re hot, red hot,
any closer and I'll burn up!
Go!

But you’re cool, real cool,
and oh so sweet.
Super sweet--

in your beard like a pepper and salt shaker tossed across the table,
I look to see those rosy lips part,
and peep those pearly whites shinin' like the bell of Louis’s cornet
brandished in the air, under those ballroom lights--
you’re screamin’ Tommy!

Let me hear that laugh that shakes the room,
punches like Blakey’s bass drum,
thumps like Mingus--

T-Bird you’ve got that hard bop in your soul,
you’re gonna bop to the top TB,
into the third heaven where the angels fall in line to your swing,
that incessant strut that keeps the devil at bay,
Blow! Blow! Blow!

And I see you now Tom Cat,
up there in the clouds,
digging your way across eternity,
bopping and jiving, swinging and blowing,

in your faded khaki pants and worn tennis shoes,
loosely buttoned collared shirt,
tight rectangular glasses that glistened the bell of your eyes even more--
I gotta stand twenty feet away Tommy baby!

You glance down at me and wink,
rearing your head back to let loose that Mingus and Blakey
bottom-end laugh,
guffaw guffaw guffaw!!!

--so hearty and rich,
the backbone of every nervous first-year classroom,
and the sniggering seniors you continued to befuddle and dazzle
with your mysterious ways
and insatiable swing.

So blow, Tommy Gun, blow!
Go Tom Cat go!
Dig T-Bird dig!
Let loose Tommy boy!

Swing for us, swing swing swing--
Hot and Sweet, Tommy baby,
hot and sweet.
For my professor, mentor, and dear friend, Thomas Barrett. You're hot and sweet Tommy baby, rest easy. Keep boppin. Thanks for everything.
Sky Apr 2016
Off
the top of my head
What can I write
off the top of my head?
Can I write a true, for-real poem?
Or just a bunch of nosense,
riddles from a gnome?
What can I create just by simple improvisation,
by simpling tossing words at a wall?
Will it be something to awe and inspire you all?
Will this poem simply crash and burn,
drag me behind it as it falls?
I don't know,
I will not know,
until I share this burst of improvisation
with the world.

Tell me now,
is it shining gold
or pitiful coal?
Rob Cochran Aug 2015
one mad day
beneath a drunk moon
i will need you
like fluffy beauty
after a frantic love
screaming sweet luscious music
deleriously through a winter storm
i will recall a time
of lazy vision
and dreaming of you and me
sleep together for eternity
thousands of rose petals
on TV
Written with refrigerator magnet poetry set
Jarret M Spiler Nov 2014
Take your time and write away
Time will come close and follow your skill,
You will forget some and lose some
But, learning will hap and increase mastery,
Flow, you must; Conquer you will.
Again, doubt will ponder thy thoughts
For, greatness happens in increment,
Like language itself, differ through evolution
Your writing too will ensue through exploration.
A small attempt to thinking about writing, along with half a sonnet style (I'm learning)...
This is a improv poem
As vibrant and vivacious as a brand new totem
My luck feels like a bad game of Texas Hold 'Em
Instead of picking up the cards I fold them
The moon is covered in clouds when I walk out on the porch
Letting my presence sink like a dying torch
I'm not the one who rides on self pity
But I'm the lonely beggar drowning in the city
Barely making it
I can swear to you I'm not faking it
Everything that happens in my life
Should not contuine in my offspring
For they only know unity and peace
Until I send them off into this world
Where people are hanged and ******
For being the ones who want to live freely
As I know times are tough
I must not get my hands too rough
I must make sure the water is just right and my tone is prestine
So they can comprehend why I'm intently serene
So they can remember my words
So that they can swing the sword
With only thier words
For that they can become much more ambitious than other kids in their generation
And seize the hearts of a nation
They could become beloved sensations
That would be my greatest iteration
God bless me for that I've loved
Will bless me with the most beautiful people the Earth could possibly have standing
Taking after their mother
Who is my queen of the kingdom I so want to return to
As life is the opposing men capturing me and keeping me in their cold, lonely, prison.
This poem was done by improv. I really honed my skills at coming up with poems out of the whim. It's a beautiful skill.
Irate Watcher Oct 2014
Forget the ***** spoons, Tim.
Pick up the clean ones.
They litter floors with meaning.
Something poetic I said last night at work. Proceeded to slap my knee.
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