"improv" poems
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
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 6:04 PM UTC
*Two performers debating on a quirky time capsule stage
Evaporating the barriers of time with their improv
As the spectators breathe life into their routine with no turmoil*
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 6:27 PM UTC
Staring at a blank page
Why won’t my brain fit into you?
Poetry’s my new ****
I hope the cleanup’s easy
Jazzy enterprises
It’s time for some improv.
Do I look like a **** to you?
I say to my stepmom
If I wanted my comeback
I’d get it off your mom’s chin.
I love it now,
That faded, stupid grin.
Go **** your high horse,
I bet it’ll reach you.
Horses have big *****
Like the people who win web arguments
Congrats to you,
Oh ye fake SOB
Shakespeare, rather queer
Bites his thumb at thee
I can’t say I enjoy this
Painting on paper
Words being the brush
To which I’m engaged by
I’m doing this for you
You better know
I find no joy in this
Like war on veteran’s day.
Nov 28, 2012
Nov 28, 2012 at 6:02 PM UTC
I spent years of my life in a fantasy world.
waters inhabited with murlocs
Forests with centuars and unicorns
I had badass armor
Spellbooks, Abilities, Charisma modifiers!
When you live in Dungeons and dragons you finish quests, unlock gods,
Slay Monsters
When my DnD group broke up
I didn't lose a group of friends.
I lost a party of adventurers
Their eulogies pronounced at the end of that final nat one
Will never be forgotten.
Portaits carved like improv comedy routines.
Characatures of our ideal selves
Bound, sealed, stuck on a book shelf
We deserved another sequel.
When the party healer crumpled her car against a Concrete wall at 70 miles an hour
It made sense nobody else knew how to cast raise dead.
In a world that is supposed to play out our ideal realities
it was no question her charecter lived eternal. the way she would have wanted.
The way we wanted so badly to be true.
Nobody felt right taking over her charecter.
And nobody wanted to **** her off.
So we wrote her story.
Every die she had tossed this whole adventure. Each murloc she ran from, each unicorn she rode, etched into a leather bound tome.
Placed Right on the same shelve we kept our pathfinder books.
Her headstone.
We never played after that.
But she did.
When we placed the novel next to the flowers her mother left.
We felt her cast healing song
one last time
And that night
We got a full rest
Aug 10, 2016
Aug 10, 2016 at 10:13 PM UTC
Rhyming Review - Sorry I'm Late, I Didn't Want to Come by Jessica Pan
Introverts unite
(separately, of course),
This book is for you,
Jessica Pan is your force
For a year she denied
Her introverted tendencies
She e-dated for friends
Gave up shy dependencies
She tried stand up comedy
She spoke at the Moth
She signed up for improv
Things that make shy ppl froth
Her anxieties could have come
Straight out of my own head
You could try extroverting
Or watch Jessica try it instead
You will learn new tricks
While you frown and cringe
Or snicker sympathetically
Through your reading binge
Sep 26, 2019
Sep 26, 2019 at 3:22 PM UTC
A lot of people seem to think
that I would be great at
stand-up.
But improvisation
gives me bad
anxiety.
He also thought that stand-up
was in my best interest;
it isn't.
That must be why he
stood me up last night-
how's that for improv?
So there I was, downtown,
waiting alone, for a guy
that would never show up.
Put on the spot to entertain,
improvisation, you could say,
but I'm not too good at stand-up.
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 12:53 PM UTC
It got to the point where we just ******
No snake oil arguments,
No cookie batter eating binges, no street corner improv,
No cold, crazy, middle of the day, psychopath silence,
No clink, clank sulking,
No cuckoldry tears over the kitchen sink.
It was as if we secretly decided,
To pound each other to death,
Or die trying.
Why is this so enjoyable.
Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 5:37 PM UTC
She is able to portray the character she is meant to be on screen and in front of a camera.
She can deliver lines learned from a script or improv.
She can feign different emotions based on the scene she is in.
She can take on the life and personality of her character(s).
However, she can separate who she is in reality from the characters she portrays...
And that is a good actress.
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 11:49 PM UTC
there are vanilla scented candles
and plaid scarves,
acrylic paints of every ******* colour
and wool socks,
a closet full of pretty dresses
and a bookshelf full of good reads
but I’m not happy
there is laughing
there is smiling
there is feeling good
sometimes
but I’m so unsatisfied
with what I’ve got
though I seem to have just about
everything
I have a good mother
I have friends that care
I have blankets
I have good teeth
I have rubber boots
some people say I have nice legs
I have compassion
I have the drive to create
I have trees
I have long hair
some people say I have kindness
I have a bus pass
I have a new job
I have flexibility
I have enough money
some people say I have talent
but I’m unappreciative
and hard on myself
still
there are booked gigs
and improv shows,
interesting conversations
and instruments,
trees and leaves and twigs
and pinecones,
the sky,
the zoo,
the cafes
but I get insecure most of the time
there are long hot baths
and biting nails,
then painting nails,
then repainting nails
and biding time,
then hating time,
then being okay with time,
there are long stares in the mirror
sometimes glares
sometimes there are puffy eyes
there is frustration
in my fingers
in my head
in my voice
at the piano
on stage
being vulnerable in a crowd of cool actors and musicians
fear of being seen
fear of being unseen
fear of doing it WRONG
fear of looking stupid
looking ugly
looking pathetic
sounding stupid
sounding ugly
sounding pathetic
there are dreams of leaving
this city
this head
these people I have known
for what seems like forever
there are dreams of healing
and loving my skin
and the natural amount of fat
that is underneath it
there are dreams out there
there are so many of them
that I’m afraid to wish
that I’m afraid to think of
from caution of them not happening
from caution of disappointment
and loneliness
and neediness,
then purposelessness
there is wanting
and wanting
and wanting
something better
I don’t know what
just something better
but waiting
and waiting
and waiting
for it to come to me
instead of
trying
and going
and getting
it myself
Apr 14, 2013
Apr 14, 2013 at 4:30 AM UTC
When first I saw you, you seemed so headstrong
You were different, it made me wonder for so long
How you could improv on the spot you stood
Your voice, your character, acting as you should
You weren't ever competing, always hoping the best for us all
And regardless of what everyone said, you always stood tall
Going through all you did, your one of the kindest people I know
Always listening, caring, even after all life has shown you
With your bubbly personality, you seemed like a star
Yet you were always so humble, always feeling like this concept went too far
So beautiful, from head to toe
Seeing your amazing smile and radiant glow
I've always seen you as a kindred, motherly soul
Helping out everywhere you could, making others whole
What you do is really something the world lacks
Whether its saving someone from being hurt or just simply sharing your snacks
You live in your own little world, it's honestly inspiring
Even when your struggling and nobody is realizing
I'm glad your happy, and that you make it through day by day
Doing all that makes you special in your very own way
Your gonna make it big out there, your already a great woman
Doing great things things, helping everyone by lending a hand
Meeting you was truly a great honor for me
I wish the best for you and that you achieve your dreams as far as your eyes can see
Oct 3, 2023
Oct 3, 2023 at 3:17 PM UTC
Calling Dreamers rest your watchful eyes...
Burning images with an improv mind...
Through waves we are one, A new life has begun
Through waves we are one, A new web has been spun
We Move Through The Universe....
Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 3:05 PM UTC
I've been having these...
Audacious ideas lately.
Ideas better left contracepted by reason
before taking root in my mind;
I've been playing hopscotch with What If
so long that I forgot he was just
and imaginary friend.
I've been thinking about you.
They're just thoughts but see,
These feelings I have for you
are so very contradictory
because the very reason I like you
is the reason you keep your distance.
You pray to a god I don't believe in
and according to my church,
you might be called a heathen
Yet I couldn't imagine anyone else in heaven
with more ease.
I've been having these...
Audacious ideas lately.
Ideas that took root and
for the life of me, won't scoot
for things like logic.
These here ideas are utterly tragic.
We share the same basic morals
but you stick to the script,
and I'm a little more improv;
with my Saturday Nights Live,
while you're at home praying
prayer number five.
Trust me when I say
I didn't mean to
think about you
dream about you
pray for you
constantly.
It wasn't until I heard you.
Every word was poetry,
and all I could ever do was stutter.
When I think of these audacious thoughts,
I begin to shutter.
Mainly because I'm walking
down the plank into heartbreak,
and those nudges at my back
pushing me forward are
the smiles you beam like
lighthouses in this dark world.
It's as if they start at the ground floor
of your soul, take an elevator
to the corners of your lips and
Spread.
I don't beleive in the prophet Mohammed
but am I a horrible Christian if I thank him
for inspiring someone to be so angelic?
Not only are you peaceful,
you're revolutionary.
You could change the world
with two hands behind your back
and still have prayer time in tact.
MSA President,
captain of the school team,
superlative for the biggest dream.
I like you for who you were, are,
and who you will become.
And it seems as though
every
one
of your actions
is rhythmic to my hearts drum.
I've been having these...
Audacious ideas lately,
Ideas better left unsaid,
Ideas better left dead.
Jul 19, 2011
Jul 19, 2011 at 7:46 AM UTC
Sitting packed in the back
of a semi-decrepit white Subaru
belonging to the Swedish Harpist
driven by the Romanian Drummer
with a literal car-full
of perfectly tetrised musical instruments,
including:
Four cymbals, two toms, a hi-hat, and a stool,
a Celtic double-Harp,
an electric Piano,
and two guitars
(an acoustic-electric twelve-string and an electric six-string)
with a few days' clothing
and, not knowing where we're sleeping, a sleeping bag,
all the while
devouring Matza and pumpkin seeds
(that we bought at Trader Joe's)
as we barrel moderately safely
down various back roads and Highways
in this car weighted as a truck and driven as a motorcycle
towards enigmatic San Francisco
to play a couple shows,
two days in a row:
one, at a literally underground Theatre
(in which improv comedy is, apparently, king of kings)
smack-dab 'pon the border of Union Square,
and another, for a private birthday party
typified by oh so many avid Burners.
Surely, our Psychedelic Jazz Funk-Rock
will find some empathic ears!
Y'know, last summer,
when I said I wanted
to be in a Gypsy Band,
I sure didn't see this coming:
this is pretty ******* Gypsy,
in my observational opinion.
Well,
here I am,
and I even asked for it.
For us three,
this will certainly be
an interesting few days,
down in the Bay,
on our way to play
wherever it is we may,
and all I can say
is: "Okay,
this is the stuff
books are made of,"
and, "Well,
time to live
one hell of a story!"
Feb 23, 2014
Feb 23, 2014 at 4:46 AM UTC
-Our leaders turn into colorful parrots
-Rainbows everywhere (double, triple, etc.)
with pots of chocolate gold coins
-Fish learn to fly and talk,
go on to start a prominent political party
-Aliens are real and they are the
original inhabitants of Earth, we are aliens
-Canada is a spaceship,
moon is deathstar
-We are the dream of a sleeping giant
which will soon wake up
-Superpowers for everyone
-Real life is actually an ambitious
indie film w/ lots of improv
-I'm Jesus!
-Nothing happens
-Everything happens
-A mixture of everything & nothing happens
Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 7:17 PM UTC
People always show their true intentions
if you pay attention.
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 3:07 AM UTC
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.
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 2:55 AM UTC
in they bustle,
all gangle, jangle,
gossip and hangovers.
shoes off,
displaying,
a variety of socks.
paired, odd and holey
and then, we begin,
by greeting the sun
and follow thru,
to twistings,
of the tongue,
limber up,
both mind and body.
voice work too,
some improv games,
just enough to....
rattle the brain.
before beginning,
the "mash up project"
in which they pick
two scenes,
from
classic and well known works
and create a scene,
using them...
10 percent of
semester mark.
some interesting choices,
macbeth meets mother courage.
r&j;, on the streetcar of desire.
but my favourite so far,
metamorphosis at pinter's
birthday party.
oh! the young creative mind,
is such a glorious,
unbound thing....
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 9:49 AM UTC
Manifestive
.. Appeal;
Perceptive
… manner;
Presentative
… charms;
…the wit of a Mad-hatter.
Perceptively perplexing
Both friend and foe;
Degradative
…praises
A mirror image…
I know.
Charade debacle
A farce..
Calamity divine;
Concert in crisis
Drama‘s
… entwine.
Spectaculative Improv
A living excuse
Performing inviolable;
A trist… with Mother-goose.
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 4:49 PM UTC
Merry Christmas, but this is not a Christmas gift
This is more of an appreciation of you, Janet
I can't make you art, and I am sorry that I can't
I am sorry that I can't give you something other than my words
So I'll do my best to tell you how much you mean to me
I don't think you'll ever know how deeply you matter in my heart
and I don't want to express my feelings in some generic sort of way
I've made many friends this semester, if I had to count it'd probably be a strong 40
40 people that I am willing to say are my new found friends
Yet leaving after this semester I will only have 1 reason of why I'll be sad to leave
I only had 1 person that it was hard for me to tell I'll be gone soon
I only took one person to the side to tell them about next semester
There's only 1 person I've been trying to see more of before I go
and no this is not some big build up to say some one other than yourself
JANET you are the one person that I will miss
The 1 and only person I feel some anxiety to leave
My very being aches a little thinking
knowing that I won't be able to knock at your door
I won't be able to come and hold you up
I won't be able to look at you and wonder what you are thinking
I'll no longer be able to sit next to you in the MPR or anywhere
You have been if not the best person I have met in a very long time
You make me feel wonderful when I'm feeling terrible
Maybe you did lie to me the first time we met, but we're way beyond that
Maybe you do always walk ahead of me
Maybe you do always make me feel awkward in front of other people
but none of that matters, other than it got us to where we are
Two people that will forever have memories of each other
No matter how much time goes by I will always know Janet Kung
We will always have our poem of lovely improv
The enjoyable meals of me doing everything for you
and our luxurious night at La Traviata
The end: I love you Janet
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 5:17 AM UTC
Oh, Mork.
****
Genius-Madness
Oh-so-Sad Sadness.
Anger-Danger
Rage and Gladness
I am so sorry
The flip-side of your
Brilliantly Cre8tiv
Coin landed
Down.
What is beyond Genius?
That fine razor's edge,
Where they both dance and
Flirt on the demarcation
Line, spinning, control,
Out of, in, and out.
Who knew what it was
Like to be you?
There are those who knew
You, and loved you, and
Appreciated you. I'm creative
Like you like slugs are to
***** whales. Life's
Images can hit your eyes
So hard they leave dents.
People's words can sound
Like world condem-
Nation.
Tho I never met you,
You felt comfortable enough
To be a virtual-friend.
Spirit kindred.
Hero, if I am allowed
To use the correct
Context.
You were the Mt. Everest
Of Comedy, Improv, Stand-
Up and Delivery. Not impossible
To reach, but the effort, the extra
Ordinary effort to slow your
Einstein brain capacity so that
The rest of us could try to catch
A glimpse of the train
That was your life zooming
By.
I'm sorry your pain and misery
And anguish and the hole
You were in were finally
To massive to bear.
You will be missed,
Dearly,
Dear Mr. Robin Williams.
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 8:31 AM UTC
bright ....butterfly.......talent.....
flicking tongues of
allitrative illustratation unsure
of present
improv packaging
puckers lips
to pout
and preen
..
grunge moth
in hoodie comes
to sauce the play
tounge twister fandango
...
paperlace lizards ...dreaming...
days streamin by
.
all the mouths
of ritual making
fourth wall breaking
....
accummulate the method
scribe to the write
formulate the figure
linguate the lyrical
....left.....
to the pintered flighted .....sighs.....
shake the speare
this night
.
with finger drumming colour rhythms
reveal the reasoned might
of the fledgling dramaturg
......
foot stomping
posse blighted brainstorms
...
burn limelight
burn, bright, burn
..
...throw your fleeting... searing glow
on these little
dramatic vacations
from life's realities
freeze frame moments
of luducrosity
and
humming,
allocentricity
.
egos pay homage
to floor door
and wall
drink
the life
the love
the moments glorious
of it
all.
........
the fear
pin *****
and bucket dance it
......come one......
come all.
learn the art of
the comic pratfall
here at the home
of drama 171 improv. .
by
the pants
of
your seat
and other
mellowed
dramatic
complexities and pratfalls
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 6:11 PM UTC
I'll miss
the spontaneous serenades
the halloween soccer games
the never-ending cycle of papers
(in a way)
the double classes
the improv skits
the begging for food.
the art-form "handwriting"
but most of all,
I'll miss the little "+"
in the margin of a paper.
Feb 27, 2011
Feb 27, 2011 at 10:38 AM UTC
Help me out for a second here.
Help me out of here.
I'm going out of my mind/But I'm/Lying/I'm not/It's too hot/And claustrophobic
So... I'll bounce back and forth in rhythm/Listenin' to myself givin'/All you beautiful people allegorical head.
Audience is/Providence of/Godliness through/Loneliness when/Each and every one of you make/Up a giant intuitive/Entity of empathy that/I wish I could make love to.
What?
I wish I could talk to, you,
but I often find that people look to me to be aloof,
but I also find the need to persuade myself into honesty.
But you gotta know, I just think words can mean so much more, or so much littler than the effort it takes to say them and it scares me all the time.
Sometimes people call me poet. I can't talk to people, they all think I'm silly and that makes me feel awkward cuz I have a lot sadness and put too much importance on the common interaction between me and the rest of my race.
So I sing instead of talking, Run instead of walking, improv without blocking, write. cuz I'm scared, I'm so ******* scared of something turning out unexpectedly, and I'm in love, I'm so ******* in love with that fear.
Thank you for giving this amount of silence. I haven't been listening to it very well. You let me take the stage and drown out all your lovely silence with my under-used, somewhat nasally voice. I'm sorry.
I owe you a turn. I really do. for listening
Go ahead...
Say something real
-Say something awful
I miss the voices that used to talk to me
Sep 29, 2012
Sep 29, 2012 at 5:14 AM UTC
dont feel right...
my own music is attacking me. feel so empty. the words in my head start to rhyme. so i know i need to write.. just dont know what.
**will you save me? take me? make me yours?
ocean blue
words so true why do you hide?
..
...
....
songs play
all day taunting me.
speakers off
still so soft
the lyrics sing
and thoughts they bring....
not the boy i want to remember... get out of my head!!!**
*(laughing) singing~
ocean blue~
just not you~*
....
**do we ever really know them?..
do they ever really understand?..
how do you tell who is real and who is imagined? when the masks are seamless and no color seeps through?
whos lying now?
words were twisted
seamlessly .. seamlessly.. seamlessly!
so fake
how well you know your lines , how well you know your part.
all the blocking forever memorised. the scenes you know by heart. everything is perfect, until the characters change. improv was never your strong suit. thats what the other actors were for...
a castle by the sea. what story needs a knight when it has a prince? her title even stays the same ... the dialogue changes as the prince is real and the knight was wrong..
fairy tales.. how will the new version end??...
or will we change the characters again? these actors don't know their lines. the blockings all wrong. look at the scripts they carry. this preformance is no where near ready. It's barely been written!!
we need a play to preform!
how will we build the set if the script keeps changing?
....
tragic flaws..
so the princess dies...
so not cool
we wanted a comedy
not a drama
....
this is a mess and we need to preform...
someone find a new director!!!**
Nov 5, 2011
Nov 5, 2011 at 1:03 PM UTC
She is unfinished stories and dog-eared adventure books. She is adorned with string lights and stray cat toys, an overflowing junk drawer and a perfectly loud laugh. She is kind brown eyes and witty comments. She is first.
He is pastel tears and bird feathers. He is Twenty One Pilots' lyrics and faded polaroids. He speaks in hushed tones and drinks mint tea. He will hold and let himself be held. He is empathy.
She is firey spirit and winged eyeliner. Glitter and badassery. She is scarred and beautiful. She protects and yells. Cries and laughs. She is ***** jokes and black clothes. She is who I am too timid to be.
He is a lone flame and endless darkness all at once. He is a sharp blade and subdued smile. Strong coffee, pop-tarts, and ripped jeans. Tae kwon do and boy scouts. He is too often forgotten.
She is buck teeth and Greatest Showman lyrics. Stubbornness and freckles. Conceals her self-consciousness with mock confidence. Funny faces and the best dance moves. She hides my things and steals my clothes. She stirs up trouble in the best way.
He is soft smiles and lego armies. He loves cats and make-believe (though video games are his first love). Creates pillow forts and mysteries, art and movie magic. He wears glowstick necklaces and no shirt proudly, as he should. He loves my heart.
She is willow trees and afternoon tea. Gentle rain and improv games. Quirky and polite, she is decorated with her gap-toothed smile and childish style. She hands out stickers and strums her ukelele with affection. She inspires me.
He. Oh God, he. He is summer skies and skateboards. Braces and freckles. He is a shell-collector and songwriter. He loves the stage. Compassion and hand-holding, cheek kisses and free smiles. He is devotion.
They hold me, and I hold them. We cry, we laugh, we hate. We sing and we dance, we talk about our dreams. We depend on each other. We love one another. Many would not be here without me.
And I couldn't be here without them.
Apr 25, 2018
Apr 25, 2018 at 11:39 PM UTC