This, more grand than truth
Though your lips never speak it
‘Tis part of the art
Skin: A Haiku
Here stands breathing proof
Bodies will live and yet die
Without right water
(Art credit:
USPS Sharks Stamps; usa forever)
Rey
I had a Dream
I persecuted him
I cross-examined him
Until the scales of justice shone into my eyes
Then came dawn
I looked and saw his name
Rey, a prince of light
I spared his life
I was a dream
Pursued by him
He bided his time
My green eyes and my green dress stole his sanity
Then we danced
He jumped and took my hand
It was the city lights
He saved my life
Our Out
Out of that closet
Who knew would come
Walkin’ shoes
Dancin’ shoes
Finest shoes, Country shoes
Shoes proving years of effort
Whilst acquiring
Coverings intended to serve as coats
Business coats
Helping coats
Fancy coats, Tattered coats
Coats that don’t fit anymore
But should
And shall, once we put on our shoes
We’ll learn as we come
Out of that closet
Others Only
This business of falling
Of being in love
With no fear that they may mock you
When you’ve studied their heart
When you’re certain they’re true
How there’s no mistake waiting ahead
If you’re earnest, as you must be
If you’d give a lifetime
Without wond’ring what be the return
With no promise of happy endings
‘Twas no gamble, you’ll say
Should you learn you were never the one
Undistracted
I watched
You watch
The fleeting snow
Before it took its leave
You put down your go
What did it tell you
What it told me
That bruises aren’t all bad
That time heals
All things
We saw
The three of us
You, me and the sky
The blue-green in our eyes’ skies
Not one can predict us
rebirth
where am i, this beautiful place earth
and yet still
a citizen of a better home, cleansed
Horizon
Grieve, good man
There is no shame
Scream if you must, or sing
I’ll hold your space from afar, when you need to step away from this spinning place
I’ll be your friend when time feels like your enemyMourn, my sister
As has been prescribed
Cry, though with clear, bright eyes
I’ll hold your heart, when it feels much too heavy for your wondrous frame to bear
I’ll speak the name of the sorrow the world denies you know
Not Be
Oh, God, help me to not
Help me to not with the fire from these fingers
With the dreams of my daytimes, help me to not
Dear Lord, would that I be
Would that I be more than wants of my wishes
More than premature prophet, would that I be
Winning Season
I’m patient
And there was endless music before you
I recall it played on and on
But I didn’t listen much
And I could get shit done and not hear
Propagandists whining feigned blues
Questioning my faithfulness to the sport
My heart’s whereabouts, my stamina
Like the notes and rhythm were Satan
And I was a modern-day Job
Let history repeat itself if it must
LisaRosier.com 