Am I easy going,
in temperment, in attitude,
like the slow meandering river
or the placid glass
upon the lake
the morning mist
rises over
till disipates?

Or am I tempestuous,
and restless?
like the river running
rapids, in leaps, it bounds
down sides of mountians,
or the sea that churns itself
to fight the wind
in all its movements?

Or am I both:
the quiet still,
the roaring laughter,
the sound of rain
that’s sometimes soft,
but sometimes louder?
I must be then
all things, the water.

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Lust of Men

Men, in clown faces
with pretty topless
can can girls
who twirl
in pirouettes,
squeal and laugh,
at all of life’s
antidotes that squell
the lust of men.

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Lost to Memory

Oh, every now and then
you come to me in dreams
and I wonder
“why the visit?” (this time),
with so many loose ends,
I suppose, of knots
and fraying strings,
that I am sure,
there must be a rope
that still ties us together,
when even as you approached
I welcomed your company
and the conversation,
which I’ve now
lost to memory,
still leaves this feeling of warmth.

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Unknown Reason

I remember you well,
slipping through
my young and feeble
hands like a sand
I could never,
would ever
hold onto.
Such tiny grains
of glass
and glint of mica
catching light
like diamonds promise
to outlast
all unfortunate
and fortunate encounters.
And so I suppose,
in my own way,
I loved you then;
that young man
with piercing eyes,
who for some
and unknown reason,
always saw me.

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Run, run, run
and go, go, go
and make your way
fast into the light.
Let the shade
fall from your
like a cape,
and feel for once
the heat.
that you shall ever
burn less bright
than you burn today.

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Corner of The Page

I know the feeling,
how the small sharp
corner of the page
turns within the hand,
so newly bound,
so neatly pressed,
with ink yet dry,
still almost wet,
could stain, I’m sure,
my fingertips,
and I know, remember,
how once they did,
those words that sunk
deep in my chest,
and there is where
they always live.

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Velvet Drawstring Bags

Oh, quiet, silent words we’ve kept
in velvet, drawstring bags,
and how they’ve stayed
like sleeping songs
we’ve ever yet to sing,
but now the songbird’s muffled
notes, I hear, they call to me,
so sweet a sound: a child’s voice!
is how all words began in thee.

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All my words belong
to you now,
all of them.
and how close you are
to arriving now,
that I can almost taste
your LOVE
upon my mouth.
like fine wine
and only sweet,
delectable, intoxicating!
and how you have always
been and are,
“my, LOVE!”
I do proclaim,
and how unashamed
I am to say,
“oh, LOVE, oh, LOVE!”
that is your name;
the Christ who comes
to take away,
His Bride who waits
so patiently,
in love with only Thee.

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Seems like I have not forgotten
all the worn paths
we walked together,
in the feeling of a rushed heartbeat,
in the seeing of the cat’s cradle,
I made a decision,
I decended the ladder,
and above me you stood,
and as you held it steady,
said, even there,
you’d still walk with me,
and true to your word, you always have.

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To Enchantment

Oh, once, I walked the forest,
so light on my toes,
with delicate fingers
skimming the ferns,
on all the worn paths
the deer had so carefully
walked before me.
And how silently
they’ve learned to step,
where above the light jumps
from branch to branch,
till reaches the floor of the forest,
where the small mice live
and in the underbrush
they make their houses.
Squirrel and owl too,
to sleep safely in the
the trees that are tallest.
Here in this memory,
where I often walk now
in that place that awaits me still;
a return to enchantment.

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As If

I lay down my arms,
as if I could.
Would you find me
spent, head down,
arms listless
in silent, quiet breaths?
Inhale deep,
then exhale
slow, repeat, as if,
my worry could, might,
leave me, leave,
but child, do not
leave before me.

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One Day

Have you lived long enough
oh, weary flesh, to recognize
the difference?
that I am not you,
and you are not me
and so I will discard you,
one day,
as fast as I slipped into you
to leave you in a heap
and I will never look back
nor wish to ever once again
be encased in such a garment;
so limiting, so heavy,
though wear you now, I must,
for a little while longer only, endure.

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Maybe our kisses,
they do taste like oranges
as the peels fall
from our hands
with the smell of citrus
on our fingers.
but you say
“no, it’s vanilla,
with this hazy smell
of lavender.”
and as your kisses
travel down my neck
to the edges
of my shoulder,
“as if grown in two climates;
one cool, the other warmer.”

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How forgetful we are
as we live the dream.
Oh sleep, oh sleep,
with our eyes shut tight.
Oh, when, oh when
will we awake?
Tomorrow is but
a day away!
With our faces buried
in the deep,
and covered with feathers
under his wings.
But an egg, but an egg,
and how soon
the shell is about to break.

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This Life

There is always the memory of you,
whoever you are.
Like a flood, like a kiss,
with arms like a warm blanket,
“and oh, how I have missed
your love,” this life.
Where I have traversed
how many landscapes, and you?
You, as though the shadow
who stretches out always
one step ahead of me,
and ever reaching,
to grasp hold, to stop you,
to turn around and say, “hey, look!”
and finally, materialize.

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And now you’re thinking of that song
by Lionel Richie,
“No? Adele then?”
when I’m just reaching out
in the only way I know how,
because, yes, of course, you are
always my silent, listening friend.
“Until the end!” I say,
because now the past stretches out
so much farther then what’s left of
the string that proceeds into the future,
that so many doors are closing
with only one left, it seems,
so few will remain to open
to walk through or meet, there at
the precipice of this life to the next,
him, who perhaps will walk through
it first from the other side
into this place where we exist.

“I prefer the first song as opposed
to the last. Look it up. Listen again.”
Remembering once when I said
“hello,” and you looked so completely
dumbfounded, and now? Perhaps
through it all, I’ve grown a fondness,
the way a song ends, when the
needle finally hits that blank space
on the vinyl static and then lifts,
the arm swinging with a drop and
a click. “Yeah, like that,” is how I like to think
from here on out, is where I exist;
in that distinct sound where it ends.

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Black or White?

The incessant
knock at the door
keeps asking for words,
but my mind is
too full already.
Are you so blind
you cannot see
the chessboards
set to play
for the many?
For the world is asking,
no, demanding,
“please, pick your seat,”
for either side is
yours for the taking.
“Black or white?”
for one is your demise
and the other,
another’s saving.

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High Burn

I set it to a high burn:
this want.
kettle, pot,
doesn’t matter much,
or maybe it does,
maybe it doesn’t,
but someone needs
to claim the torch.

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Jessie’s Girl

I was spelling the wrong
word right,
while you were telling me
the opposite
meaning to life
but I wasn’t listening,
was I?
And how long
the shadows cast
against the hot
Summer ass fault
when in the last hours
of the day
there is no one
else to blame
except those who stand
in the mirror
across from us;
a poor reflection, true,
when I can’t hear
the meaning
through the sound
of the consonants;
right word, wrong context,
trying to write against the
sound of the lyrics
to Jessie’s Girl,
that’s all this is,
when all the while
I’m just wishing for silence.

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New Endeavors

Hey… just wanted to to write a quick post about a new endeavor I’ve started. I’ve decided to put my poetry into volumes (book format), which will be titled by year.

So far, I’ve completed Volume 2011, which is comprised of all poems written within that year, but will be working on subsequent volumes/years to make them available for publication over the next few months.

With over 1600 poems written since 2010, and most being posted here on this blog at one point or another, I thought it would be nice to have them in book format, as it makes it more tangible and easier to actually find what I’ve written.

It’s been a fun journey though: scribing words, and one I plan to continue, though, Art’s been finding me in many different avenues as of late; having recently taken up painting, but that’s another endeavor that’s just about to launch via my website at jenniferlenhardt.com.

Stay tuned for that, and as always, thanks for reading!! Especially those of you who have been following the words (some good, some not so good), over the years! :)

P.S.. Thought I’d also mention… there is a book already that comprises all poetry written in 2010, titled ‘Fertile Soil’.

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