Once a child
And once a girl,
Innocence still made
Its claim.
To dream
Like a child,
Like an angel,
Like a fawn.
To see the clouds
And feel the rain.
Each memory is
Like a precious fragment
Of fallen, gilded gold.
You would spread them
As little tokens
Across a fanciful map.
Each marked a place
To dream of,
Each mark a wish,
Each spot a hope.
Young you were
And never young again.
A brief reveille
Before the autumn
Before the chill.
A brief repast
Before the grace.
Do we still believe in miracles?
Do we still believe in ourselves,
that maybe we are meant
to do something than just live
an ordinary life,
and all the struggle that we have endured
was to lead us to that pivotal moment?
What if there was another 9/11?
What if there was another US Airways Flight 1549?
Would we be another Sully,
or would politics and race play a bitter card
in the division of our lives?
Would we watch the city burn
or listen to their screams die?
Would we say,
“They were not one of us?”
This was a fear that gripped me tight
as the news bled into the passing days,
but then Hurricane Harvey hit.
And despite all our differences,
all our hate,
a miracle happened.
We forgot the bullshit,
and heroes rose
Death is a bitch and a whore
comes with hat on or off,
Jewish, Christian or lover years ago called Nancy.
Death is a passport, a left behind baggage note.
My leverage sinks, I see you pass human.
These my fears, your fright, being broke, old-royalties stole Suzanne.
Now branches, extended limbs, point outward nowhere-
doors Montreal collapse tomb, dance with me,
end perfume love, a few dead flowers.
Michael Lee Johnson lived ten years in Canada during the Vietnam era. Today he is a poet, freelance writer, amateur photographer, and small business owner in Itasca, Illinois. Mr. Johnson published in more than 989 publications, his poems have appeared in 33 countries, he edits, publishes 10 different poetry sites. He has been nominated 2 Pushcart Prize awards for poetry 2015 and 2 nominations Best of the Net 2016 and 2017. He also has 134 poetry videos on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/user/poetrymanusa/videos. He is the Editor-in-chief of the anthology, Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze: http://www.amazon.com/dp/1530456762
and Editor-in-chief of a second poetry anthology, Dandelion in a Vase of Roses which is now available here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1545352089
Millions of stars in the heavens above,
Only one uncle to cherish and love,
Thousands and Thousands of flowers, and trees,…
Hundreds and hundreds of mountains, and seas,
Everything multiplied over an over,
Robins and butterflies, bees in the clover,
Many good friends to think the world of,
But only one uncle to cherish and love
Toughness lightens your voluptuous jaws
with monstrous hunger
to engulf human edifice of excellent creation .
How
could you maintain silky softness behind your stony of
ruthlessness ?
The sky above watches with tears of reprimanding
scolds,
your crafty games you play to toy with the flimsy effort of
human beings-
helpless puppet to the capricious whims of your
restless nature .
Molten saps of petrified dynasties running
through your crevices –
whisper the incantation to revive the
dormant fossils awaiting for quenching its thirst for solar
radiation .
Your crude cajoling for witnessing human molestation
by your retinue ,
confer wooing suffering to earthly beings .
Poets and writers invest
on your infatuating aspects to reap golden crops .
You are a menacing medley of both creation and annihilation.
Your bridal attraction , your enchanting enigma
allure people to attend the
feasting ceremony you arrange to trap your victims .
The sky scolds
you wheedlingly for your crafty devices to caress creatures
to devilish death .
You muse mockingly at the shedding of
crocodile’s tears of the sky for the dying earth .
The demons that haunt me
Linger in my dark to flaunt me.
Speaking in whispers to taunt me.
Eating my life from within to gaunt me.
From their souls I can not hide.
I have lost myself with them inside.
All I have left are the memories those who have died.
“ If only I could have helped them be safe!
From my bad self that waits inside!”
“You are so weak and pathetic you fool!
You know you can not stop me!”
“Why can’t you leave me alone?
And take your darkest deeds and thoughts away!”
“Such a whining child, no back bone!
I have wonderful plans and I so enjoy my craft!”
I smile when they begged and cried.
I can not stop what I need to do.
My hands are guided to see it all through.
I laughed as their lives began to bleed and unscrew.
I am looking for another to play with, could it be you?
I despised all the human greedy desires and bloated vanity.
You might think I am crazy
Or that I live in a world full of insanity.
But that is okay with me
Because I am your worst fear.
A screaming image you can not escape from.
Because I am what your nightmares are made of.
The bogeyman that visits you in the dark.
The shadow that always seems to follow you.
Or the whispering voice behind you.
Yes, I am all of these things and much, much more.
You see, I am your monster!
I have been always in pursuit of going beyond physical. Going beyond physics. I consider physical body is weak but the spirit is strong. Spiritualism, perhaps can be the theme besides other layers of themes. It may have multiple interpretations. Hermeneutics .
What motivated you to write this poem?
The impulse running underneath the is letting go of physical and realising the spritual.
How long have you been writing poetry?
I have now been writing poetry since more than three decades .
If you could have dinner with one person (dead or alive), who would that be?
Dinner reminds me of the last supper. I wish i was with nine disciples of Christ.
What influenced you to submit to have your poetry performed by a professional actor?
To me poetry is performance as well along with reading it out aloud with certain specific rhythm.
And Festival for Poetry has come out with indescribable idea for performance reading my some one who for other field of arts. An actor. It is always exciting to see how your poetry gets performed.
Do you write other works? scripts? Short Stories? Etc..?
I practice writing poetry in Gujarati language ( my mother tongue ) besides translations I often translate Gujarati language poetry into English language besides my own Gujarati language poetry .
What is your passion in life?
The ultimate passion in life is to be human. I love this life where we are human beings.
Is it not true that when you wake up to see the world and switch on your television and you see all nations torn apart and that centre cannot hold …
Vihang A. Naik 😦 b. 1969 ) Indian poet writing in English.He took to teaching as a profession, serving in colleges since 1996 in Gujarat. He lives and works in Gujarat, India. He can be visited at http://www.vihang.org
I live as much ‘in the moment’ as I am able and the smallest of events can inspire me – a twig cracking underfoot, the scent of Rosemary as I brush past. The ‘Blue Remembered Hills’ is the place I live.
How long have you been writing poetry?
I’ve ben writing for 60+ years.
If you could have dinner with one person (dead or alive), who would that be?
John Donne (1572 – 1631)
What influenced you to submit to have your poetry performed by a professional actor?
Some of my songs and poems have been performed by other artists and I enjoy a different take on my words, often revealing something I had not discovered myself in my own works.
Do you write other works? scripts? Short Stories? Etc..?
I am a singer songwriter and Blue Remembered Hills is one of my songs. I am releasing an album in October 2017. I also write novels. And I am a painter.
POETRY FESTIVAL. Submit to site for FREE. Submit for actor performance. Submit poem to be made into film. 