Three poems | by JD DeHart


Plight of a Perfectionist


It is quite something indeed

to realize that all points

of life offer some

semblance of disillusionment


If you expect the ceiling

to be so high, people to putter

around kindly, and every

object to be made of marble.

Axis Point


Here I sit at the spinning

center of the universe.

Well, it’s just a room.


Conversations go on all

around me, but I sit listening

to my mind.  Wondering.


I am the spoke in this wheel,

except I really don’t think

I turn much of anything here.

Nice to Know at Last What Is Meant


Yes, it’s nice to become

acquainted with sound

and reason of other beings,

makes one feel like one belongs

to an invisible club –

the lines were always drawn,

but it’s helpful to know they

were not imagined.

It’s remedy for the sanity.


Finally nice to know what is

meant by all these chuckles,

to get the inside joke,

to speak the vernacular, try

it on like a glove on the tongue.

Practicing in the mirror

three times this morning alone.


There now, doesn’t that feel better,

or does it make matters worse,

now with a heavy mouth?




JD DeHart is a writer and teacher. His poems have appeared in Cacti Fur and Strange Poetry.


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