6am

Posted on October 18, 2016 by Lisa Rosier

Innocent
I turn
Asking one more moment or more than one
Temptation again answers
With a question
Do I run my finger past Some Kind of truth
Risking
Waking you up to it
Or
Do I find the place that gives you your space
To breathe
Morning’s breath

Pitch

Posted on October 18, 2016 by Lisa Rosier

In the pitch
There the quiet
Calm you can know
No sound from the city
None murmur from high

Field there what is true
Sown once
Though weeds wouldst to strangle
Harvest virtue
Storehouses to share

hairpin

Posted on October 17, 2016 by Lisa Rosier

You must travel
Travel you must

To the farthest recesses
Of courage
To find
A You of your very own
Linger there then
Decide
When will I stay long enough
Here
For there’s More Of Me I must meet

Summer In Winter

Posted on October 17, 2016 by Lisa Rosier

Who told you?
Who said it should’ve been so?

The looming liar lurking?
A voice from the mount’?

Would that there’d been!
Oh that there’d be!

What harm would befall to let it all go?
And exclaim to the the everlasting, omnipresent silence:

There’s ink to the contrary;
Screaming loud and clear.

So my skin -if none else- must tell the truth, dear.
My hand, the fall, forced.

Banter

Posted on October 16, 2016 by Lisa Rosier

“There’s this girl
Well, woman actually
But she reminds me of a girl
Child-like as she is
But that’s good
After all, there’s no need to act your age
That’s for old people
Anyway
Oh -she is an old soul, though
So there’s this girl….”