Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Cinders


Cinders
By
Lisa A.Williams


Anointed-
unknowingly
by
brick or board.
Trash,
they were called
those tow-headed girls  
wanting to purge
this dry christening
 which scathed
skin and soul,
it’s adornment
crushing the child chant
“names will never hurt me”
Lingering lyrics-
notes carried high
by those who sang
of
castaways
smelling of smoke and cinder.
Undetected by thought or word,
somehow they knew
the fire
was always smoldering.
Trash-
to be discarded,
unworthy.
They were singed
yet somehow
rose from the flames,
bore their blistering-
purified.



Dark Moon


Dark Moon
By
Lisa A.Williams

Beneath the Dark Moon
holding power,
my father’s steel cold fear
 hung heavy
 between us,
 as he lay dying,
 

     
in the
heat swelled 66 New Moon,
one day from independence,
sweating out life’s poisons
in a shaded room
seeking forgiveness
for old “sins” still haunting
his opiate dreams.

Trying to let go
fighting to stay,
 lost –
Wishing on a salvation
he never believed in-

and detachment
 sat nearby
never shedding
a tear.
 

Thursday, August 23, 2012

All the Dead Doors

All the Dead Doors
By
Lisa A. Williams


All the dead doors
bolted, warped in
old time, sealed
barring entry to a past
so keen
    in fortune telling.
Stories-
long unspoken around
blazing hearths of kin
and truth.
Fathers’ wishes-
ashes now.
Mothers’ dreams-
cold, dead bolts.
Still, if I listen
heart remembers their
old songs,
if only I could hear
the true rhythm
of their words.

Sleepy Summer

Sleepy Summer
By
Lisa A. Williams


Sleepy Summer-
resting
on the arc of autumn
whose cascade of fiery hue,
arrogantly reminds
that even in dying
there is beauty.

Sleeping summer
burrowed beneath
the pure white blanket
of cold forgiving
waiting in the deep dark,
dreaming
of old worlds
and their clock-run consistencies
of time and season
where her lingering ghost,
is summoned
by desires
Of earth and flesh.

Dandelion Wine

Dandelion Wine
By
Lisa A.Williams



Two girls-
In a grassland
Of
  unwanted things-  
such nuisances in their
untamed growing
reaching for warmth,
eying  the clouds
in the lazy entourage
of blue beckoning.
Waiting to find
a place
as they mix the rain
with wild yellow-
tasting
the bitterness
of their creation.




Silent Morning


Silent Morning
By
Lisa A.Williams


I wish-
for the dawn’s
soothing silence-
streaming with  
 endless possibilities,
before living
steps in
 crowding the calm
and I can no longer
hear my own voice.

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

Ocean


Ocean
By
Lisa A.Williams


In your sound,
I am silent.

In your depths,
I feel forever.