Certain and truthful
Your divine self
Not a deity
But still so damn divine
Super and powerful
And superpower filled
Finally and fiercely
Shall step in
Save the day and declare
You’re an unwounded warrior
Don’t you know?
Author Archives: Lisa Rosier
At The Bell
Fling that thing to the Moon
That thing that’s ailing you
Red flags, white flags, too
It’s not a day too soon
Let’s leave crazy to loons
Whose flightiness consumes
Consider this day new
Its call goes out to you
To sing the champion’s tune
We Begin
An hour, now, clutching the cold morning coffee, an acrid-filled, comfortless cup.
Still dark.
Consumed, we, with what’s bearing down at the door — bellowing “more, more, and more!”
Its roar.
Will this new blanket be warm enough, this day sustain hope beyond the front-porch light?
Windows fogged.
Still, dawn’s bright, there, without, meets a heat — long-stored and stoked — here, within.
We Begin.
Caged: A Haiku
Do birds know their luck
That I no longer trust wings
Else I’d fall for them
Still Grieving
These why-natured questions no human has answered
Nor monsters willing, either
Invade my slumber
Nightmares, demanding I wash the dishes
Become thinner and wear clothes that aren’t mis-matched
Occupy mistress status
Keep me searching
Leaving me susceptible to sages insisting
A renaissance woman now, I ought dress for my inner warrior
The muse who I let be stolen
At 3am I harken her
A ghost now, still grieving for answers from man-shaped monsters — those captains who’ve abandoned the ship
She cannot answer back
Hot Monochrome
She is streamers
She is stars
She is the red that sustains Mars
Bars don’t exist
On her heart
She is steadfast
She is dangling
She is silver-Mediterranean
Alien and best friend
Alike
She is words
She is breath
She is life seducing death
Express your intent
So to stay
She is present
She is feathers
She is coppery hot weather
Whether you like that
Or not
Come Home: A Haiku
Surely the circle
Summoning the soul back home
Is where we will heal
Digger: A Haiku
This she has resolved
That the missing puzzle piece
Was never his hand
Just Like Yesterday
Were I to wear cowgirl boots on New Year’s Eve’
Would they walk me to your shine?
Were you to spin 70’s tunes on your record player
Would your dancin’ feet meet mine?
What did you wish for on your birthday without me
A shared path for us to find?
What I begged of the Ghost of Christmas Past
A machine to turn back time….
Unelect
