Love is coming today
To this address
To take love away
Stopped back then and stayed
Entirely by mistake
Too polite to have told you so
Now it would be wrong
Continuing the charade
Unfair to you both
Love is coming tonight
Too soon
To say good day
My dear Oppressor
Although it bothers You not
You do piss Me off
I know and You know
You’ve not a conscious conscience
I’ve not a strong will
Ice posing as something benign
Have you believing I’m only tiny daggers
Draw closer
Hear
Cathedral chimes
Strike an unholy fear into you, I will
Begin with me the wintry journey
Dying, now that the falling is done
Come back, will you?
Taller next time
Wise enough to yield
While I command the Summer
Piece of some screenplay.
Hoped it was a script, I did.
But no — it’s your life.
Gone the whimsy
The ubiquitous hearts
Giving hope
One no longer affords
Service for twelve
Seating for many
Crystal and silver
For what wedded purpose
Some gardens
A book nook
Less kitchen ingredients
A box where dreams are shelved
One closet
One pillow
A window facing east
Nothing at all evidencing two
Put it all out there
Graffiti the walls of all the world with all the goodness you can possibly stuff into your every carbon footprint
Yes, your every breath
Send it marching onward, channeled outward
With unabashed hope
With unrealistic expectation, yet with none at all
Believe some force shall, some being must
Carry it all straightaway
To the doorstep, that heart of the other
Knock it will, but know
There may be no answer
But the walls, the world, the carbon, that doorstep
That heart
Needed your work nonetheless
So you remain the same
I’m speaking to You
I was looking forward to
Crazy, crazy nights
I won’t be provoked
A lonely man once said
By her solemn words, as Cupid’s arrow flying, from those lips he lived for to kiss
Of her, his thoughts were consumed
I won’t be convinced
He’d determinedly decided
By her clean heart, the last of its species dying, from those feet he’d planted in defiance
Of what it is to be loved
Say something here and now to my writer’s eyes and heart. Tell me something mystical or bizarre about yourself. Share anything that will be cathartic for you, or will blow my mind. Enlighten me.
Post your own most favorite photo or other personal work of art.
Write a short story here, and I’ll collaborate and finish it with you.
Or, finish mine:
“Oh, how entirely good it is to be this aged age, having had all the conversations with all the different girls and women who I have been throughout these years! I know who I am, I know what I want, and I know what I am unwilling to do to achieve it. The beautiful mystery that remains is this: What magic-like means are out there in the world that I may take in order to manifest what I want?”
On look out
Why, I?
Wanting her, Liberty
Freedom from all the ways I’ve done her wrong
Or forgiveness
Her eyes, corroded-coppery
Bore one capital “L” unto mine skin
“A Mighty Woman,” I was warned
And so I came, tired
And she welcomed me
And I extinguished her, still
LisaRosier.com 