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Five Poems - Lisa Detweiler

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Seeing takes away the obvious And the obvious causes strife, Take away the obvious And what’s left are mysteries of life.

Seeing takes away instinct And the instinct creates a defense. Take away the defense, And you’ll find offense was your pretense.

Seeing takes away a conscience And a conscience gives a heart. Take away the conscience and your “self” Will fall apart.

Blindness gives a strength And strength gives esteem. Take away the strength And weaknesses are seen.

Blindness gives caution And caution gives comfort. Take away the comfort And in will come the hurt.

Blindness gives a vision And a vision gives a dream. Take away the dream And an emptiness is seen.

For the emptiness is caused By all the strife in life And no defense in a pretense And a heart falling apart That come with being... Seen.

Selfish Hiding

She doesn’t come out when she doesn’t want to She just sits there quietly as if life is a Detailed mosaic--so many pieces to look at. She doesn’t talk when she doesn’t care to She just sits there quietly as if her voice escaped. She doesn’t seek what she doesn’t want to . She just sits there quietly as if her eyes have been blinded. She doesn’t taste when she doesn’t care to. She just sits there quietly as if her taste was burned away. She doesn’t feel when she doesn’t want to She just sits there quietly as if her heart had been melted away. She doesn’t have to be if she doesn’t want to She can just sit there quietly in her own world Breathing shallowly not speaking and no one knowing she is there. She only comes out when she wants to.


Sometimes the only thing That is truly genuine In life is that which Hasn’t been touched or Tampered Yet sometimes those Who are most genuine Are those who have been Touched Tampered and Broken

Just Another

Am I one of those people Meant to enter your life and stay Or am I meant to enter and leave But wont you tire of my consistency Of personality? Won’t you tire of my face and Being able to predict my every word? Can I stay? Can I remind you of My consistent personality? Can I predict your every word? Can I be a person to enter your life And have a personality, name, and face attached?

Forgotten Face

The streets were dirty The fog hugged the people. The sky hung deeply Above the church steeple The clock struck the hour The people dispersed Merchants closed their shops And counted their purse, The little girl watched the people glared At her dirty clothes and stringy hair. The people smiled Their houses grew bright Doors were locked from the child a pitiful sight. The night was cold and breezes visited her dreams Creeping through her clothes torn seams Each morning she played On the banister outsides Imagining it was her horse On which she could ride. She watched as the passing people bickered. And she was greeted as usual With a glare or snicker The streets were dirty the fog Hugged the people the sky hung heavier above the Church steeple At the end of the day She’d climb down from her horse And imagine the next day’s Riding Course. The next morning the merchants Opened their stores And people bustled about their chores but on that day there was no horse and there would be no riding course And no one noticed that She was not there And there was no one on whom they could cast a stare The banister rusted winter began to approach The streets were covered with snow And the marks from a coach The streets were dirty The fog hugged the people The sky hung sadly above the church steeple.




Lisa Detweiler lives in Berwyn, Pennsylvania, USA.



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