Friday in French

A wind I’ve not heard before
A rush upon the rain
An energy
A constant speaking, the whirring
A struggle to understand
Some language I believe in
And cannot yet decode
Thus, a dread

Faith filled,
I will not prophesy
But beware


Not taking no for an answer, She
Dressed up sexy for the crimes of He

Master-mechanic motivating, She
A fine-tuned engine emerges, He

Speaking in the same tongue, You & Me
Ascend from sorrow’s basement, We


I have thrown after hope
That day might be anew

Under the microscope
Through the telescope
Yet not to the naked eye
Indeed it has
It is

Crisp, though unbleached
Comfortable, too
With a new song
In a language
I will struggle to learn, I will

Lexicon Rebel

There isn’t the wise heart 
Inside this frame
Able to end Something
With correct words and proper punctuation 

What grammar class rebel
With words for the dispose
Doesn’t know the greatest way
To say goodbye is with the first kiss;


You’ll hear my name for you
Six Million words -each more true

I’ll wear out the L’s, for L words make me laugh
I’ll wield a skilled S as a sword or a staff

When I’ve tired of speaking, comes then Z, or close by
When all’s said and done, a new language have I