I know why you bought blue
There was turmoil churning inside you
And twilight’s horizon in view
Hope is why I sought gold
To optimism’s grip, I take hold
Sunrise on this hill won’t get old
FairPlay, Colorado
Tag Archives: Poetry
Welcome Home
To touch — though trembling — my own regret
Or the parts of me about which I wish to forget
To steal back words I spoke from my unknown fears
And the squandered minutes that turned into years
To give only love to places that feel most hated
But allowing no ground when boundaries are debated
I sealed my yesterdays with fervency’s kiss
Then woke up tomorrow and carried out this
Kamala
Oh, I do
Hope
May The Flowers read my thousand thoughts
My apologies for the thistle, I allowed to crowd
Forgive me for the invasive vines, that strangled your sunlight away
As I stayed grieving lost ground
There, at blooms edge, sat I
Dreams began to die
But for a mid-morning,
A cool sunlit day, then, did I decide
To pause and prosecute, with an, “anchors aweigh,” a finally-freed echinacea
With my accomplished call, did the butterfly bush become tall
“No more…by the grace of God, no more”
Of a Feather
Fireflies try
And, so do I
To simply fly
And not ask why
Of the days we get stepped on
Of our glow from dusk to dawn
Should our days feel underground
Should the answers stay unfound
Fireflies know
And, so do I
Our wings and light
Will end the night
Wicked Winds
Cherry blossoms sometimes curl, dry, and fly away
Plans crash amongst the tides despite our calm agendas
Who said there’d be no wicked winds
What sacred book of days ever promised perfect
We arrive and pass this way on our way to leaving
Fruit and blue-green golden hours coursing through our veins
Near Golden
I
Saw
A
Mountain
Bluejay
Seeing
Me
See
A
Blue mountain
Not My First Haiku
With we by our side
With the storm being The Calm
With hope a-rumblin’
Not the End
May Amen and Amen
Hang above you and around us
A mist undissipated and undeniable
As a cello’s note
As an infant’s breath
Permeating
Amen
Final Frost
I admire the try
Despite the spotlights and fanfare
All artificial, to date
Nothing like the great outdoors
Next comes the hardening
Hardly a problem at all
No one knows the struggle, then strength
O’ The Seedling
All Things
Chaos, wasn’t it?
Dissonance and double-speak
What we were told
What we watched and felt
What a slanderous soup of fits
Where were we to find our breath?
Pausing, finally, to ask what’s Possible
Starting there, this exhausting journey
Ended here, this beginning bliss
A thing still strange to us
But oh, isn’t forgiveness fine?
Found only by grasping hold of The hand
In Whose image we’re made
I’ve arrived
You’ve arrived
LisaRosier.com 