Spaghettios rule
a treat so cool, after school
makes me miss youth’s kiss.
– Sandra Johnson, June 25, 2022
Sandra Johnson
sandraj631968
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.
Read my lips (Hour 8)
Get a grip, don’t resist, read my lips*
lose yourself, swing those hips
We’ll go gently, brightly away
give us just a little privacy
friends think it’s crazy.
Getting closer, a little at stake
off the shoreline, on the lake
I read your lips, see
lucky you wanna be
What if you have nothing to say?
get a grip, no resisting, not reading lips
Coming closer, little more at stake
taking a trip, a mini break
risky fingers, smooth touch, ache
Read my lips, love’s chance we take
but love’s now deaf, we cannot make.
– Sandra Johnson, June 25, 2022
*Credit: Chorus of Duran Duran’s Read my Lips
Lizard Love (hour 7)
My lizards’ love
is not that wary
even scaly, is soft and airy.
Their way of love
is so darned old
just chase, grab ahold
and take control.
Atop faux green leaves
snouts almost touching
vibrant lime faces
eyes casually, lackadaisically looking
wondering what the hell I’m doing.
The crazy way they bob
up and down, dewlap a-throb
bursting red to clearly show
they’re ready for romance, and go!
Situations, I’ve seen many
on vines, entwined, still and staring
once upside down, a feat for any
reptile species, should they tarry.
Love ends and begins yet again
they’ll even choose another man
or two, with dewlaps circling round
for females they are eying now.
But in the end, love makes a thing
a tiny orb, a few she’ll bring
these fragile babies, hard to keep
I’ll love this next one,
from a crack should it peep.
– Sandra Johnson, June 25, 2022
Dear Sandi (hour 6)
Life is very brief, and so
not living is slowly dying
you used to live, you know?
Ice skating
calves and ankles quiver
as the frozen ground stirs,
you’d shiver.
Once you exercised a bunch
ate well, shunned the late night munch
made walking stairs an easy task
in Philly, four floors and light lunch
back to high school weight, just once.
Trips to Paris
there were three
now a distant memory
shimmering art and structures
tasty bits of Brie and croissants
all blurred by memory’s faults.
Instead of being afraid
you took the extra days prepaid
roamed the art and nature alike
became tour guide for new friends’ sake.
A novel, never published
stagnant, sitting, not dusted
a memoir of one French vacation
that ended in destruction
of twin towers across the ocean
will you get that tome in motion?
Put down the phone and take up pen
eat well, and live your best again
walking, traveling, skating far
and soon transcript will be a star.
Love, your youth.
– Sandra Johnson, June 25, 2022
Tethered (hour 5)
A hardback book I hold
it is tattered and old
a wine glass on the cover
amid strewn sunflowers.
A heroine, she’s knitting
eating a block of cheddar cheese
dreams of going into space
but cannot part pavement’s home base.
Steel nails pin her dress, you see
uncomfortably to an old oak tree
and by the wine, a satchel
with astronaut apparel
which shall not ever travel.
– Sandra Johnson, June 25, 2022
3022 (hour 4)
In 3022,
we shall not have floating cars
the physics of such a thing
preposterous!
No hoverboards or floating trains
only movies can still conjure
because necessity trumps avarice
when basic staples cost more.
No teleportation or flue powder
same ol’ car, plane, train or buses
only virtually still you can
meet friends in other countries.
Time machines and portals all
just junk under future’s pall
casting shadows like monsters
maybe the aliens we conjured?
But cryogenics, rejuvenation, i do hope
become a future thing
because I’d like to jump some rope
a 154-year-old child, full swing.
– Sandra Johnson, June 25, 2022
Out of Paris – a haibun (hour 3)
Once again, Paris is engulfed. It started with a nice hotel in the 13th. Only the customers were the catalyst, not fire. The attitudes, mentality, crimes going off like time bombs, all taking hold of les medames et monsieurs here. This beautiful city of love is now hideous, destroyed by hate. People are anxious, arrogant, angry, full of animosity, rude like wasps stinging for no reason. All of this chaos is rolled into a ball, aimed to strike any structure. But it started with his, and BOOM, it made him decide. I want out. I need an escape, away from all this. As if by magic, maybe fate, he found a flat … outside. And now he’s free, albeit partially.
He’s left Paris now
connected only by trains
work is the only flaw.
– Sandra Johnson, June 25, 2022
Winter solstice (hour 2)
The darkest evening of the year
winter solstice nips my ear
big bulky parka should I wear
perhaps furry, to confuse a bear?
Snow and ice brush my face
I miss its fresh, clean feel, and lace
of snowflakes falling in the space
of my backyard, such brief embrace.
For I now live in Texas’s slow fire
a snow day be my one desire
it only comes but once in a while
to freeze my day and make me smile.
– Sandra Johnson, June 25, 2022
Credit first line: Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, by Robert Frost
What the Flood? (Hour 1)
What the flood is going on?
creeping, bubbling in at dawn
closing down beloved parks
do we need some Noah’s arks?
Whole neighborhoods collapse when
an avalanche of sludge creeps, then
the throat is dry for just a drop
contaminated all, clean H20 stopped.
Polar caps are melting now
causing us to argue, how
is global warming drowning us
slowly immersing the human race.
And now, the world is new once more
oceans, ponds and brooks restored
one borne creature swims alive
wet and happy in water thrives.
– Sandra Johnson, June 25, 2022
Excited
I’m so excited to be participating in my 4th marathon; it will be my third 24-hour marathon. I’ve been out all week because of a medical issue but nothing can stop me from creating great prose. Who’s ready? I am.