Lovelorn Poet in NYC: A Toast

Eclipse 18 by Bob May

Eclipse 18 by Bob May

There’s a moon in the blue sky forever chasing the sun.

Is this lunacy? Circling, month after month, about something so full of life, and its tides ebb and flow for you; yet it is that thing that is so far away and eternally out reach that makes you shine.

Here’s to free-falling, and magnetism, and breathlessness.

Here’s to you, missed connections.

–your blue skies moon

Her Two Cents

Lovelorn Poets Her Two Cents IconAnd every once in awhile (on average, twice a year), it appears to us that the sun and the moon cross paths, that the timeless chase pauses for a moment of intersection, a moment of magic, beauty, and awe. Not terribly unlike missed connections, or poetry, or random creative habits. Here’s to you (and you, and you, and…).

Lovelorn Poet in NYC: For You

For YouIneffableness
Most things we experience can be described.

The spontaneous jazz improvisation can be described by pressure waves.
The transformation a seed into a flower can described by photosynthesis.
The wondrous sight of a rainbow can be perceived by the processing of visible light.
The enthralling fragrance of a rose can be elucidated by a complex chemical process.
The taste of fresh picked blackberries are also disclosed by chemical interaction.
The weight of a book is easily illustrated by gravity.
The flight of a comet is easily defined by Newtons laws.

All of the above explanation defile the magic, purity, and awe of the experience.
Love defies explanation.
One can only barely come close by saying it is an act of faith and trust between two people based on a pure feeling deep in one’s heart and soul.

 

Her Two Cents

Lovelorn Poets Her Two Cents IconI would venture one step further and say that while experiences, such as the ones described above by our Manhattan poet, can be described using words, images, and numbers, the articulations of those complex combinations are still limited compared to a whole body sensory experience. It’s just the tip of the iceberg, if you think about it.

Lovelorn Poet in NYC: Closing Time

Closing Time by Ricardo Wang

Closing Time by Ricardo Wang

Missed Connections in Manhattan

Closing Time

Closing time
There is always Last Call
Now when king has gone
Gone again for search of love
She dreams
He licks the salt
with pulsing music in his ears…
Oh, Happy Hour…
I guess we are not at fault
where are we then?
She figures – Eternity is not a closing time..
Are we in Paradise?

 

Lovelorn Poets Her Two Cents IconHer Two Cents

Are Happy Hours truly happy? Is the Last Call ever the final word? Closing Time marks the end of one thing and the start of something else. What do you hear? What do you taste? What do you see? What do you feel? Eternity is our container, but we get to decide if it’s Paradise or not.  Cheers!

Lovelorn Poet in NYC: Tiger Sweats Haiku

Missed Connections in Manhattan

Haiku For The Girl In The Tiger Sweats

girl

girl

striped pants, spotted bag
i snuck a covert photo
you live life out loud

Missed Connections are filled with good, bad, and creepy covert photo-snapper haiku! Did you write one? Did you find one? Did you grab a screen-shot of one? Put down the camera phone and email the link to Lovelorn Poets. We’ll preserve those sneaky syllables for all eternity.

Lovelorn Poet in New York, NY: I Will Write To You Every Day

Mixed Media Painting (Detail) by Choichun Leung / Dumbo Arts Center: Art Under the Bridge Festival 2009 / 20090926.10D.54929.P1.L1 / SML

Mixed Media Painting (Detail) by Choichun Leung

 

Missed Connections in Manhattan

I Will Write To You Every Day

I feel everything so much.
Sometimes it’s overwhelming
The happiness that makes me cry
The sadness that brings me to silence
The tears that well up when I see an act of love

I can’t be afraid to allow love into my life
I have to give it freely and without fear
Love without fear
Just the thought brings on panic

Everyday that passes
I know you’re getting closer
Maybe you’re here already

I know that only when I learn to love without fear
And not be afraid to feel
Then, will you emerge from the mist of constant hesitation

I am a woman. Not so young, but not so old. I love life. And I love people. I love everything this world has to offer.

And one thing that is missing is someone to share that with. And I have been foolish. I have been foolish throughout my life, and careless with people and relationships. I have taken things for granted and not realized what I had until it was gone.

So, I am convinced that I must have met you, but not realized that you were the one. And so, I will write to you every day until we meet again.

Starting today January 12, 2014, I will write to you every day and let you know that I am here and that I want you to share my life.

One day, maybe I will share yours…

 

Lovelorn Poets Her Two Cents IconHer Two Cents

At the start of the new year, this letter and poem appeared on the NYC feed. I was immediately intrigued and curious to see if our anonymous writer would communicate more and how this creative and personal project might evolve. A few additional messages appeared over the following days, and then, like many a New Year’s resolution, faded away never to be heard from again. Did our poet find their love? Did they give up altogether? Did they decide to use more traditional avenues like online dating and Meet-up groups? All we have left is the original intention. What came of it we’ll most likely never know.