Lovelorn Poet in Brooklyn, NY: A Rough Draft

Passing the Mail by Pat McDonald

Passing the Mail by Pat McDonald

buried under all the masturbation and couches for sale
advertisements there you were

on missed connections looking for me while
i was looking for you

not that i ever believed in that sort
of thing

but sometimes, thou i never
mention it to anyone

here i am too, buried
under other advertisements
looking for their

missed connection


Her Two Cents

Lovelorn Poets Her Two Cents Iconmindgallery has posted poems, thoughts, and musings to missed connections for as long as it’s existed and on the Brooklyn feed, one can find a regular offering of the “greatest hits” (of which most, if not all, have been captured and saved here). While the old steady favorites are a treat, it’s extra nice when something new comes into the flow – even if it’s considered a “rough draft.”

Lovelorn Poet in Brooklyn, NY: I Can’t Haiku



a haiku for you:

hiding in plain sight
so you’re nowhere to be seen
the heart never lies


Missed Connections are filled with good, bad, and hidin’-hearts haiku. Did you write one? Did you find one? Did you respond to one? No need to lie, simply email the link to Lovelorn Poets. We’ll preserve those lost and found syllables for all eternity.

Lovelorn Poet in Brooklyn, NY: Tomorrow’s Dreams



Hidden promises buried in the devouring darkness
that now blankets the soft fragile seeds
of tomorrow’s dreams

Memory wounds wrapped in soft encasements
meant to protect my mind from
the solo act of

Sentences that start to rise towards the heavenly
skies and into the orange pink blue
because somehow I knew
the sky lives


Her Two Cents

Lovelorn Poets Her Two Cents Icon There’s something beautifully comforting and peaceful about the orange jellyfish in turquoise water image that Brooklyn poet Lee Taylor uses in many of his missed connections poems. Is it the pleasant memory of weightlessness and warmth enveloping the body that relaxes our nervous system? The sensation of gradually sinking into water, when experienced without fear, can create a peaceful state unlike any other…

Lovelorn Poet in Brooklyn, NY: Linguistic Fusion

Hot Sauce by Coal Dubya

Hot Sauce by Coal Dubya

We’ve packed up the crock pot and stock pot
along with our nightly meals of
red swedish candy fish
flavored dreams

We’re using only homeopathic medication
meditation and masturbation to soothe
our tight tired


Thank you for all your kind letters
and support over the


We’ve left a note attached to the refrigerator
affixed with a magnet, in case you
need to get in


We’re off to a place where every table
has a bottle of hot


If you can handle it use it, a few
shakes will take you



mindgallery twitter * beatboxbliss tumblr

Her Two Cents

Lovelorn Poets Her Two Cents IconHere’s a thought for the weekend: if you were to leave your home forever, where would you go and what would you take along? Would you leave a note? Who would it be for? What would it say? Just because you leave a place forever doesn’t mean you wouldn’t want to remember and be remembered somehow, someway.

Lovelorn Poet in Brooklyn, NY: More Than Words

Her Two Cents

Lovelorn Poets Her Two Cents IconThe Brooklyn and Manhattan missed connections have a reputation for “stories,” and some have actually made their way to lifestyle blogs like Elephant Journal. You never know if the stories are creative non-fiction or outright fantasy, but they’re generally well written and interesting to read. But the question still remains; is our Brooklyn poet fishing for larger exposure or expressing themselves through words about their past actions and emotions? Does the answer even matter?

More Than Words

The last ten years passed so quickly that I have found myself in a place I do not like. Graduate school, wedding, fund raisers, cocktails parties have all blurred my vision. The other day my son asked me “Dad, who was your first girlfriend?” I was speechless because it hit me like a ton of bricks. I could not process all of the feelings and still can’t.

It feels like yesterday that your friend, SM, approached me and said that you thought I was cute. We talked all night. I leaned toward you with my hands in my pocket so you did not see them shake and we kissed. That was the first of thousands. We would talk for hours about nothing. During our first argument, we laughed and marked the occasion romantically. Our love was pure. Material items, money, station in life, car, job, education, and clothes did not matter. We made each other little gifts. I can never wear another string bracelet. You always kept me grounded and reminded me of the simple pleasures of life.

As we got older our relationship always continued on and off. You decided to stay local and I had dreams of concurring the world. We always returned to each other but I always left with more to concur. I recall the last night we were together; I wanted to take you to a new hip restaurant before I left to show you I was moving up in the world. But you did not care were we went. You just wanted to spend time alone and talk, like we always did. We went to the beach with some snacks and a bottle of wine. We talked and danced under the stars until the sun came up. You felt we were soul mates. We were two parts to the same soul that could not live without the other. We promised to remain together forever. You never had to say I love you because I saw it in your eyes.

I was gone too long when you called to tell me that someone had proposed. I knew that the DB took advantage of my absence. I knew that you wanted me to stop you. But I could not, I was too afraid of ruining your life. It would have been selfish for me to have you wait while I was trying to define my life.

We would occasionally talk and I knew that the DB was taking you down a bad path. As my career was now in motion, I was a few months away from my return. I was planning to leave the armor, weapons and troops behind. I was absolutely certain that when you saw me all I had to do was close my eyes and reach out my hand. Before I could return I received a call from SM, you were in the hospital and needed me. I rushed home but did not make it in time. I walked into the wake and felt numb. Part of me was gone. I had lost the only pure thing in my life. The person in the casket was not you. I did not want to remember you like that.

You now lay sleeping for eternity. I returned, married, and started a family. It is unfair, but I measure her against what was pure. She is not you. She still does not understand that a hand made string bracelet was the best gift I ever received. My thoughts of you lessen at times but the reminders are everywhere. I sometimes walk pass the spot where we first kissed. I thought that time would have healed this wound but the guilt and sadness have grown stronger. What if? I want to find your grave so I can visit and lay on the ground and stare at the stars with you. I wish we could talk, like we always did.

When I would leave you always gave me a letter to read on my journey. I recently found the last note in my parents’ attic. You asked me never to change and never to forget you. I have not forgotten you but I changed the day your part of me died.