Saturday, June 14, 2014

Tuesday, June 3, 2014

poems by JD Dehart

JD DeHart

The Anti League


They have banners and sashes,

these quiet old lady patrol people,

their cracking voices infused

with some otherworldly

demonstration vigor, now seizing

memories of years ago, sit-ins

and nationalism, yielding themselves

to their new great cause – forget

the wisdom of years past, forget

the girls who need the extra care,

rocking their screeching young,

not getting the expected;

the league now marching,

their cracking voices laying down

proverbial knowledge for buttoned-down

old-fashioned homespun reason

where there is no reason,

only a cause and a static sound.


A Weekend’s Promise


Walk with me along the pathway

I walked when I chose to matriculate,

look now daughter at the piece

of your future that can be in this place,

that can grow full and unleashed;

do not be burdened with the mundane

life you see in front you, do not listen

to what the boys say about you

and what you can and cannot be,

listen to voice of my teacher, the sweet

high tone or learning as she unpacks

a sentence, noun plus verb.




It would be easy to paint you

as a stark figure, my dear,

but do not illustrate yourself

as others do, leaving out the important

details, the parts of you

that make you whole, do not listen

to the angry voices of those

who should love you, for they only

criticizing themselves, then curling

back on a slight manipulation,

do not blame yourself for the fault

that lies in others;

so weave your portrait, strong,

strong like you can be, like you are,

and exist, a hope and complete circle.