lonely spaces

beneath the surface

There are lonely spaces, voids in my comprehension
Secret nooks inside my mind, where truths are hidden
Knowing that the dreams stay dreams without an action
But lost as to what to do

What if for once I let go, to act so as to become
Fitting myself around and into this person I am making
Pushing past the parts that tremble
Lost in my lonely wanting, lonely expectations
At times it all smells blue, like clear skies of fear

Mustering courage, gathering my strong parts
It is the only way through the impasses created
The strongest steel comes from the hottest fire

It is always myself being dealt with
Having to go looking for myself regularly
Dragged from the places inside where I hide
Nails scratching trenches upon my mind
Afraid to be seen because there might be rejection

Unclench the jaw that smiles so tensely
And, if I look closely, outside of myself
Is that you I see, hiding in your own dark spaces
Take my hand – We might just walk out of this together

I submitted this poem to the Bainbridge Island Poetry Contest.  It was selected as one of the poems to be posted around town for April’s Poetry Month.

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Visual Poetry

ABSTRACTVisual poetry is poetry or art in which the visual arrangement of text, images and symbols is important in conveying the intended effect of the work. It is sometimes referred to as concrete poetry, a term that predates visual poetry, and at one time was synonymous with it.

visual poetry
Visual poetry was heavily influenced by Fluxus, which is usually described as being Intermedia. Intermedia work tends to blur the distinctions between different media, and visual poetry blurs the distinction between art and text. Whereas concrete poetry is still recognizable as poetry, being composed of purely typographic elements, visual poetry is generally much less text-dependent. Visual poems incorporate text, but the text may have primarily a visual function. Visual poems often incorporate significant amounts of non-text imagery in addition to text.
There remains some debate regarding the distinction between concrete poetry and visual poetry. There are three dominant views regarding the issue. One view is that visual poetry is synonymous with concrete poetry. A second view is that visual poetry is a type (or sub-category) of concrete poetry. And the last view is that visual poetry has evolved into a visual form distinct from concrete poetry. This view is supported by work identified as visual poetry in which typographic elements are secondary to visual elements, are minimal, or in some cases are absent altogether from the work.

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psithuristic

up through the trees

Moving with formless fluttering
a gentle snapping
crisp pines accommodating
the psithuristic wind
like silk moving
over flesh and bone

Your call
a sirens song
dissonant conversation
you rustle through the trees
questing
trees giving a soft lament
yielding
dancing with the wind

Susurrous melody of green
gently
whispering stories
murmurs
fingering the pines

Tousling leaves
tossing toward extremes
passionate expression
a lashing
chaotic flurry
howling
the crack
whip like limbs

Riven
a forest yielding
surrendering
to the sirens fury
bend so as not to be broken

Soughing endurance
the whistle of an elaborated new story
wisdom earned through survival
experience
flexible and strong
the rings are thicker here
where the need was greatest

soft sounds meld into
a flowing melody
natures nebulous discourse
mollient and silken
slow winds whined
through the trees

*Art and Poetry Copyright 2014 Lyssa Danehy deHart

Don’t Hide

Bright Aspen

Don’t hide

Like a bowl with a broken rim

Wishing to be a perfect cup

Waiting to be seen as a treasure

Lost in wanting and wishing and missing

Misplaced moments that make up the whole of my life

The experiences

Life

Lived

Light shined out and on

There is no way to really hide

The cracks show up in odd places

Chinks in the surface

Glimpses in a mirror

Grasped in my periphery

Just outside my illusionary self vision

Lives my true self

The one of me that dances

An expanse of experience

Both good and bad

The me who doesn’t believe in good or bad

Embracing the light and shadow

The part of me that just observes

Letting go of judgement

Not afraid

There are no more words

We are beyond that now