Lovelorn Poet in NYC: Skimming Across The Pages Of A Travel Magazine

Qunitessentials by Scott Maxworthy

Qunitessentials by Scott Maxworthy

my sniper perch….on a certain rooftop
guarding my V word with admirable courage
Until Cupid came along…set up shop alongside me
love lost lust found Mind lust
and the ice is melting
Because there’s never enough…
so another five hour energy and dopamine is happy
oh you….
Under my skin…
I zip line to Morgan’s home
where you beat me to it
and filled a memory bank and countless poems
In one hours time and I haven’t stopped smiling
Shut up you say
and for once I agree
Plotting the next non hookup
where there will be no ice
and no mirror….
In the interim we waterski skimming
The pages of travel magazines
holding on for dear life…
where you sunbathe on a Florida beach
and me?
I tie Madonna to a Rocky Mountain tree
laughing as I skip along to our little cabin
Where the blankets are never big enough…
and I can never get enough
of you

Her Two Cents

Lovelorn Poets Her Two Cents IconShut up you say
the ice is melting
Because there’s never enough…
for once I agree
I can never get enough

 

Lovelorn Poet in NYC: In Every Way Imaginable Haiku

You’re different and special in every way imaginable.

Love

Love

I hope you believe
that by now You are perfect
I miss you Love you.

Missed Connections are filled with good, bad, and imaginative haiku. Did you write one? Did you find one? Did you respond to one? Don’t stop believin’, just email the link to Lovelorn Poets. We’ll preserve those specially different syllables for all eternity.

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!