Lovelorn Poet in Toronto, ON: Short Form For Missed Connections

Mad Libs! by LittleBear1127

Mad Libs! by LittleBear1127

Missed Connections in Toronto

Short form for Missed Connections

We locked [eyes/nose rings/tongues/fenders]
[this morning/last night/every frigging day this week/Stone age]
[on/at] the [DVP/401/street/at the bar/tim horton's/].

You: [pretty/hairy/tall/sunburnt/indecently pierced][asian/illegal alien/stockbroker/homeless person with weeping facial wounds].
Me: [/handsome/hot/short/morbidly obese/obviously aroused/unspeakably scary][garden gnome/leper/crack addict/corporate shil].

You were wearing [vintage Dior/Hefty Bag/Spongebob Squarepants costume/oven mittens].
I was [in pajamas/draped in ermine/freshly waxed/nude].

I wanted to [share my medication/say hello/give you my number/lick your nipples]
but was too [drunk/dizzy/incontinent/mentally deficient] to do anything.

If you [see this/care/are still alive/are in need of a tongue bath]
please [respond/flick your high-beams/submit your resume].

Then we can [take it from there/screw like lice-ridden monkeys/have a garage sale/meet for a drink].
Looking [forward to hearing from you/for another meal ticket/hot].

Lovelorn Poets Her Two Cents IconHer Two Cents

So many missed connections messages are generic, unoriginal, boring, and poorly written that “critiques” are becoming more commonplace. Some readers (those hoping/waiting for a message about them, perhaps?) take umbrage with examples of deficient writing and communication skills and can be harsher than a 7th grade English teacher with a fresh supply of red pens. Filling in words to this sardonic “Mad Libs” style poem might actually help some writers develop a more attention-grabbing post!

Missed Connections in Savannah, GA: The Cradle

198.365 a box full of letters addressed to me, #363 in explore

a box full of letters addressed to me by Ashley Rose

Lovelorn Poet in Savannah

The Cradle

There is a small box of love letters under
my bed; evidence of my youth and a time
when our hearts were all that mattered.
I am not nostalgic–although naturally like
most I sometimes dwell on the whys and
what ifs–and I am certainly not going to
pretend that I don’t have regrets, but as
I sit here on the edge of my bed, in the
silence that comes with evening and
cradles reflection, I think I am ready
to answer them.

Lovelorn Poets Her Two Cents IconHer Two Cents

Whether it’s a box of old letters tucked under the bed, a folder of unanswered emails the gaze returns to, or the sensation mid-way between heart and gut reminding us of intentional avoidances, the old saying holds true: You can run, but you cannot hide. Sooner or later we all need to come up with a reply, an answer, a decision.

Lovelorn Poet in Austin, TX: The Poet Strikes Again

عيوني حزينه و السبب خافقي مضيوم و لا هلت العبرات ماني بـ لايمها

by Sanctuary Photography عيوني حزينه و السبب خافقي مضيوم و لا هلت العبرات ماني بـ لايمها

Missed Connections in Austin

The Poet Strikes Again

The lights were dim, dark, but light was in your eyes,
And I got lost, and I got lost, was lost in the ties,

That bound the night to us till the horizon broke the sky,
As we talked of everything of all of us, and all of us inside,

And I search for the meaning to the reason I lost you,
I remember you said you read these post and thus I write you,

Or maybe I just write, just to write out my heart,
Just to write out this disease of the belief in soul-mates and stars,

And maybe I write as always for no-one,
As always, always, I listen to the world and it’s slow song,

That binds me to the steadiness and the beauty.

Lovelorn Poets Her Two Cents IconHer Two Cents

Eyes are the gateway to the soul, and they are often what captures our attention and hearts first. They are what we remember for the longest of times, long after other details become hazy and vague. If we knew that for those special eyes, the ties bind longer and stronger than all others, we might chose to close the lids and never look. Or not.

Lovelorn Poet in Toronto, ON: Chaos 99


  Missed Connections in Toronto Chaos 99 Chaos is curiosity An 8 point direction Of spontaneous superstitious Combustion of peculiar Abnormalities drenched in A shattered glass of spilled cognac The balanced Libra Drunk and giggly Stupendous saturation Over and over again Obsessive eccentrics Shooting stars As the galaxy gathers intrusive brain waves Eavesdropping the devoured […]

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Lovelorn Poet in Baltimore, MD: Waves Across A Broken Time


  Missed Connections in Baltimore Waves Across A Broken Time (Perdition) The thoughts that swim In this head Do nothing but cause The greatest of dread. Forty years gone yet I’ve never seen dawn. Orange moon horizon and Silver screen sky Reflect down giving Everything including you, A deep sepia hue. Eventually everything faded Outta […]

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