It is whisper quiet
This place
Alone is all there is
Truth a mere caricature of itself
No making sense of the light to the West
Fated are we
To be fallen stars and starlets
With delusion the Victor
Love: A Haiku
You speak soft as if
you are not a universe,
you soft universe.
Doomed
What if we’re happy
With the climate now
What if we bid hope be gone
What if time’s wasted
While wanting for change
What if we just accept wrong
Instead Of Dying
Walk this heat-weary mile
Throat parched
Painful shoes
Nearly no breath left
Don’t blame the mistake
The map you made
When your eyes were younger
Tip your hat to the hurt
Toss your map to the sky
And take aim
Let those smithereens shade you
Praise the what-lies-ahead
Without thinking twice
Walk forth
Idle-hearted
The train has left
Platform now unexpectedly empty
The morning’s newspaper blows by
Not even a whistle to be heard
The schedule was posted
Written in black and white
The conductor took one last pleading look
Idle-hearted, go home
Me: A Haiku
We betray ourselves
Should we seek a loving heart
Yet look not within
Percussion
All of us are seven
Game plan in hand
Foreheads daring the mountains
Feet thanking the coast
American shoes
Purchased
By grandparents’ blood
Carried
By hope-chartered boats
What: A Haiku
Church bells at 7
Lighted trees in the backyard
Your heart forever
Northward
What could I give the stars
The diligent ones
That peek through the thicket
And sometimes seek me from within
Lest all I’d see is the film of clouds
Surrounding
Drowning
Would they want my voice
Lifted
Lighting the way
Guiding the underground
Calling on the sleepless
To look, to sing
Then reach and walk
Starver
What other firmament awaits
And elsewhere salted sea at which you may jut your jaw
Is there new terra to sweet-talk now
Where its air be so kind to your longing lungs
Time and time again
Who else can you call home
LisaRosier.com 