What is it, you ask, that ails me
The pain for the colors within
See
Black, brown and white
I've every stripe
Extraterrestrial green
You sense what I mean
Supernatural blue
As too, do you
I have every faith
Author Archives: Lisa Rosier
handshake: a haiku
My Father's told me
The Days won't end, you won't come
I must believe Him
Beige
It's a nice place
It's muted, but purposely so
To any who'd wander by, I'd say
To make things make sense
I've worked hard
I've these eyes, after all
There is one thing, though
There is the question of the door
I cannot easily enter
I cannot easily leave
26.2: A Haiku
It seems all these words
Tall, Dark and Most Unworthy
Are solely for you
Know that You, Tempter
With fair, yet transparent shell
Are hollow to me
The blush as I stare
Just as hotly checks my soul
Which has sent you off
Precious are these times
So I cast my eyes away
Miles and miles away
Had I spare minutes
I'd give account to your loss
It goes on and on
Rent
Damn all that I want
The seconds, their rhythm
How perfect they seem
The song they sing
As though you are here
Championing their entrance
Into the hours, the Days
Plain
Don't worry
I see it
I breathe it and speak it aloud into their confused minds
As matter-of-fact as I will
You see, I must
Remind us
We are still We
In the Hollow
I see you out there
Though in the hollow
Profile
Side eye
Tail twitching
Up and down the Tree
To distract me away
It won't be
For it is later
You're gone now
Here am I
Lime-lit
Wide-eyed
Still
Holding hope some day
I'll find you back here
Ode to My Susans
Dear deliberate garden
Across the lawn grown long
I ask of you forgiveness
For days of absent song
The week raced past so clever
Don't wonder if I care
I tended needy gardens
And wildflowers there
I vow I'll strike the balance
I'll give and take with you
I'll seek you out to ask your thoughts
We'll praise the morning dew
Is It Poetry
How can it be, the hour's calm
Despite all that is happening here
The beat of the world
Foreboding and loud
Yet the chickadee sings its sweet note?
Wherefore the whims of the wind
At ev'ry map dot, it seems
Churning, marching
Fanning the pain
While the porch chime resonates fine?
What of the flames that burn so
Blue, yellow, orange, then to red
Smoke-filled eyes from the North
Westward heart deeply charred
As the core of your Earth sleeps content?
Familiar
Angel
Sliding
Across familiar strings
And 'round
And down
To where,
To these ears
Seems hallowed ground
Singing softly about you
I love you
