24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
I’m Sandi- An artist all my life, I began writing poetry in high school but not seriously. In 2001 I took a poetry class, and that’s what lit the fire for me. Ever since, I’ve been writing when the fire burns hot and wild. I graduated from the Art Institute of Philadelphia in 1988 and then pursued writing and poetry in the new millennium. This will be my fifth year in the marathon.
I love all things Parisienne and French
Eiffel Tower and flowered park bench
sculpture gardens and oil paints drench.
I dislike snakes and spiders hairy
rainy days and drunkards merry
mostly workdays with splash days flee.
And teacher in London now I be.
-Sandra Johnson, 6/22/19
A moonbeam twinkles in my eye
my coffee the day’s starting high
Hush, the quiet garden sighs
the fog rolls in and drifts my eyes
Sipping on a wine canteen
later, damn this music machine
plays a song to cause a dream
In concrete jungle tomorrow see
shelf and book, diapers wee
Till then shrouded in firs clipped
near a dock feet water dipped
-Sandra Johnson, 6/23/19
Outside my running car
freezing, from home far
left early to beat a storm
only now my key is safe and warm
In 96 it tortured me
frantically trying to get in, you see
a blizzard brewing high and low
a manager helping but no-go
Angry, finally getting in
driving home, no snow within
and now I fear I’ll be trapped again
inside a frozen drift – no-win
Scared now, road barely seen
ice caking on my windshield thin
on the ground, no trace of green
I ponder, amidst the motor’s din
When finally I make it home
another trap assaults my bones
within abode I’m caught, dear me
without those staples I need to BE
and days it stayed that way … three!
The blizzard of 96 it was
but not so free of slush because
now snowplows push street-snow in
both car and me are stuck again.
-Sandra Johnson, 6/22/19
One taste is not enough
a bite of sugar is too much
time better spent not eating
rather, try exercising, breathing
instead of picking up some eats
find painting, writing tomes as treats
find some friends, and confide an hour
till you find comfort and special power
there’s steps to take, defects to free
and then you’ll find a happy me
when storms abound, never cry
meditation clears the sky
in self loathing never stray
and future, past be always gray
in present may you always stay
if worry e’er erupts your day
sing a song, go out to play
if nothing works
just kneel and pray.
-Sandra Johnson, 6/23/2019
It’s not what Nostradamus said
even revelations are unheard
the world, I fear is ending near
with bullies, rapists and people smeared.
It starts with just a tiny cracking
with morals and manners lacking
scandals, sex and drugs abound
rotting each and every town.
Each flood that drowns, erodes the earth
and fires burn our homes to dirt
earthquakes, landslides kill within
and hurricanes, tornadoes always win.
With each and every shooting spree
a hurt explodes inside of me
a murder here, a kidnap there
each sin becomes too much to bear.
A man in tatters holds a sign
the end is near, the truth shall rhyme
just one more crime may be the crack
in this tired Earth’s breaking back.
-Sandra Johnson, 6/22/19
A kaleidoscope I see
a girl with rainbow hair, and free
you are my fascination street
a reflection of my face in heat
when Friday I’m in love now
the love cats all come slinking round
your face I see bowing dour
a lullaby that makes you cower
from the edge of the deep green sea I peer
homesick, and the end is drawing near
why can’t I be you, I wonder
a strange attraction pulls me strong
and then I sing a sweet lovesong
pictures of you in the purple haze
I’m counting down in between days
just like heaven I’ll be amazed
when at your concert I’ll be crazed
let’s go to bed I ask thee dear
not ever in one hundred years
maybe someday, always pray
but never enough, even today
it’s not you it’s me, you dare to play
-Sandra Johnson, 6/23/2019
Around the city I am bound
in search for produce, flowers ‘round
here and there facade I see
art nouveau and fleur de lis
in parks I walk and often stop
to stare at fountains, coins I drop
the monuments, eyes gaze in awe, then
imagining what could have been
in churches, cherubim and seraphim
some destroyed in fire’s sin
makes me weep to see again
the musicians here, in subways, trains
always makes me sing refrains
and try an instrument again
the gastronomie, c’est magnifique
in restaurants fill up my cheeks
my tastebuds brighten all the streets
the concierge, le nom Yohann
my family since 2001
when towers fell, he was an ear
arm round my shoulder, quelling my fears
and then, when visit’s at an end
I’ll dream till I come back again.
-Sandra Johnson, 6/22/19
I am
An artist I am
when painting at a poetry slam
in school, I am
teacher of future woman and man
I am Seuss’s Sam I am
I rhyme and like green eggs and ham
I am, also, a quiet lamb
but lion roars when shepherd is slammed
sad when far away from man
but when I’m home, at peace I am
I am a happy French madam
in Paris where the art is grand
and if you really give a damn
I love my family, it’s what I am.
-Sandra Johnson, 6/22/19