Pennies Will Rust

  Photo courtesy of  Jeffrey on Flickr

Photo courtesy of Jeffrey on Flickr

Pennies Will Rust

By Kerri Liss


Pennies will rust

Papers combust

Tell me where exactly

we've placed our trust?

 

I look around

Eyes to the ground

Searching for things that I've

already found.

 

Treasures are left

Nothing is kept

For I have my two cents

in my pocket.

 

I'd rather write

Stay up all night

Count stars not money as

dark turns to light.

 

From my pen's ball

I will tell all

That we're more than just coin

Incidental.


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To Where Shall I Run?

  Photo courtesy of Kerri Liss

Photo courtesy of Kerri Liss

Editor’s Note: I recently asked Kerri if she had any essays up her sleeves since it had been some time since her words graced the Writer’s Bone website. She told me she was on a poetry kick, and that she could craft a poem if I supplied her a word. I’m pretty sure I was listening to Bob Dylan at the time, so I sent her “harmonic.” Enjoy the first entry in our brand new poetry section!—Daniel Ford

 

To Where Shall I Run?

By Kerri Liss

 

One Mississippi breathe in

Happy, Happy, Joy, Joy.

Sweaty melodies my lungs sing

so as not to destroy

the integrity of running.

 

My head,

the conductor,

timekeeper of my toes,

amid the orchestra of thoughts,

shows me where the path goes.

 

My soles hit the street,

where road and rubber meet.

Pitter patter on the pavement;

This harmonic gait curbs

The tectonic plates of my heart.

There’s no turning back now;

Purpose points up my chin

‘though I tremble from within.

I can’t refrain from the pain;

There’s nothing and everything left to give.

 

I rest for a moment, but not a note longer

to catch the chord of true joy’s canticle.

Like the song to its composer,

Or a bride being wed,

To where shall I run, if not but straight ahead.