Lisa Hartjen (11 Poems)

Lover of the waxed word and whispered nothings. East Coast, US.

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by forgotten insults
twin trunks veer
seeking distant light
yet flesh remains true
to a blueprint once shared

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not far from shore
he prefers waters
rhythm lapping hull
to the relentless rush
of tires on macadam

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Your skin reflects a sun
released from ravages of day
green glow, yellow overtones
Toulouse-Lautrec in grey

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A twig mended with twine
his jar of morning coffee
the small red clamp
placed well out of reach
he marks every corner

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The Spell of Silence

In the spell of silence
your voice enters as my own
distinguished by foreign design
I welcome the intrusion
and wonder at the origins
of your spirit travels

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silver lining

If I peeled silver lining from a dark cloud
I’d wear it ’round my neck
sculpt gossamer wings
destined for flight
in hapless windstorms

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