When you were five, what did you want to be when you grew up?
When I was five years old, I wanted to be protected — both then, as well as when I grew up. God has seen to it. And, He’s provided poetry, too. ✅
Covered: A Haiku
Tag Archives: Water
Compatriots
I hope you’ll hope
And see there is to see
Good, and with goodness
Together we
These seas of fire
These seas of glass
Truth, having embraced truth
Rebuild anew
A life worth living
An overflow worth pouring into
Music Credit: Enya, “Book of Days”Video Credit: Lisa Rosier of FieryPhotography.com
Mostly Water
I didn’t do that
You did that
It’s time we admit, you did that
You did that because you came here wounded
I let you do that because I empathized with you
In that sense, we did that
I hoped to help you
You didn’t know you needed to help yourself
I didn’t know you needed to help yourself
I know you didn’t mean to do what you did
You couldn’t help yourself, as, you hadn’t helped yourself
You didn’t know
Know this
I forgive you
God said, “let go.”
harim and mayim speak
The mountains welcomed me, “You’re back!” and promised me they’d have my back, should some Great water way — or two — recede, retreat, or otherwise act as cowards for too, too long.
Oh, harim, how they cried to me, spoke truth to me, “Here’s Jenny, an ally to thee.” At once the Sun shone once again, as I embraced my Westward friend.
Her shores were rocky, her waters cold. But I, at midpoint, felt less old — and trampled — then. And my ears acquiesced.
For t-w-e-n-t-y years before, life’s fog obscured Jenny’s lore. She sang it then, she sang it now: “Courageous woman, to the path you’ve chosen, the mountains bow.”
That Poem
Avilion
One fluid motion this life
Don’t let the fits and starts fool you
A seeming inability to find what it’s all for
When people pain your heart
Love them aloud anyway
Should the days forbare to reveal truth
Herald the light nonetheless
Befriend all of nature
Indulge noisy children
Sing a workaday’s song
To the water’s depth, say, “OK”
At the end of the day, this is what it’s all for
Don’t let your eyes miss the overflow
One silken strand this life to weave
Photo Location: Bay View, Wisconsin’s Avalon Atmospheric Theater
Kadesh
What might we share?
Except for some source of light
And the cello muse
I won’t pretend to know
Though
I like soft things
You like the edge
I’m drawn to abbeys
You’re from the deep
I flirt with irreverence
You respect me
So maybe we could stand
A day or year
A treaty, here
Find peace
Decide
Praise The Rock from which The Water flows
Not far from Jordan
Latent: A Haiku
Giv’n The Universe
There seems more to us than this
Maybe this is that
Moment Lovers
Step one, get weird with it. This belongs to you all, after all.
Step two, present yourselves all ways, every day, at the same time.
Step five, step five?! Yes, step five — there’s nothing linear or logical of this.
Step five, show the canvas of man what these years of kinship mean.
Step six, dip your brush in cool, cool water, then choose the color violet. Or orchid, because you are bold, or you want to be.
Step three, make a space in advance, or in the moment, or not at all. The whole Earth was prepared for you.
Step four, never end before you’ve finished, or for forever, whichever comes first. Last.
Step seven, relay your love for The All of them. Take responsibility and fight again tomorrow with the sunrise.
Of the Easel
LisaRosier.com 