The Poetry Marathon

Light, I sit and wait for thee

fragmented in my iced tea

ripples reflected in coffee

while I arise to meet the day

gold shining ball blinds my work-way

speckled alight the balls of dew

catch the sun on flowers too

it’s dimmer, when babies slumber take

and glowing, while I’m wide awake

while writing poems and tomes alike

or shimmering snake-like in the waves

moonlight beams are all the rave

and sunset, purples, oranges, blues

ends the day, but light’s there, too

fires my imagination anew

and right before I sleep and dream

my phone’s glow is the last I see

till sunrise brights the day with glee

or should I die, in wonder, me

where luminous gates and heaven be.

– Sandra Johnson

No pleasant dreams, says I

it seems

a nightmare’s more

of what’s in store

with heaving lungs

and paling tongues

I cannot promise you good rest

your sleep will haunt you

horror’s best

no breath, you fear this most of all

ne’er reaching rail before you fall

deep in inky darkness all

damp and cluttered, closed-in walls

a King I see, his throne is high

adorned with flashy sharpened knives

all it takes is just one cut

and screaming, goes your mangled throat

but he envisions life from death

you come back, jester instead

if laugh, you cannot this king make

your impaled head upon his stake

and startled, then you shake awake

a macabre book beneath your pate.

– Sandra Johnson

This Christmastime

I really fear

will not be the same this year

our feast, nearby the parents’ tree

the veggie train, and artichokes three

faccia di vecchia, even thee

will not be made for you and me

no trading presents, bows all bright

or watching kiddos eyes alight

because the world is not alright

Covid, it steals our joy and here

we stay home, no thanks or cares

no loving hugs, or kisses there

for our mothers, fathers warned

protect and keep them far from harm

we’ll only have a video Zoom

that’s so impersonal, feelings down

this holiday, it wears a frown

we’ll wish a Christmas present next

we’re back together, health intact

joy, hugs and love

come rushing home

and Christmas lights

all cheery and bright

will keep hearts happy

next holy night.

– Sandra Johnson

CD you see

it screams, why me?

soon to be

defunct, like analog TV

maybe soon, repurposed

as furniture, refurbished

something shiny, maybe jewelry

is what may become of me

you see, my older cousin vinyl

is resurrecting, no longer idle

because of new technology

diamond stylus, sound quality

record shops are popping up

the Sweet Spot is our favorite hub

Steve and Stuart, our sound gurus

guide us to a funky groove

or find our jam, both old and new

so CD, don’t be yet blue

of your kind, they have a few

but beware the big bad turntable

young customers, not just elders

are piling in to buy these jewels

till demise, CD may meet soon

unless you find a happy home

in some disc player, no longer alone.

– Sandra Johnson

It is patient

and so kind

an arm around you

when you’re tired

a simple gesture

just because

doing the laundry

mopping the floors

a dozen red ones

or chocolate s’mores

an evening out

when life’s a bore

is something you’ll

forever adore

it does not anger

doesn’t keep track

of any mistakes

or traits we lack

instead forgives

with gentle word and hand

and always hugs

and understands

protecting all, house and home

opening car doors

shielding from harm

when daylight’s gone

it trusts and hopes

when times are hard

that together

we’ll get better

it takes two, we’re told

to have

and especially to hold

it never fails for those who see

in each other’s eyes, eternity.

– Sandra Johnson

September 20, 2001

a plane ride back

vacation done

here we sit, this flight is grim

every bump, a deep breath in

a sudden drop, perspiring again

goes from forehead to the chin

some other planes, destroyed you see

marred 9/11 and US eternally

in Paris, when I heard the news

my flight was canceled,

I was confused

a whole week more I heard the tale

from Frenchmen, Germans all a-pale

how three planes crashed, the other failed

and CNN replayed the horror

in gruesome detail every hour

so then reschedule did I thus

but this flight I really didn’t trust

and when finally, it came time to fly

I said a prayer that all not die

the whole cabin talked around

their travel tales and planes aground

and when the aircraft finally touched down

all cheered and clapped – now safely home

and when we finally found our own

we hugged tightly, and cried some

for flights that perished, those brave ones.

– Sandra Johnson

Please,

take what you need

don’t give in to greed

someone anywhere

down to one glass of milk there

drink what you need here

another, naught to wipe baby’s rear

take only what’s needed

warnings, be heeded

what if you, running about

find all H20 out

the last case, someone lifted

water filters, all gifted

what if agua, unfiltered

hazardous, muddled be

with unhealthy debris

I’m saying it clear

don’t take the last, dear

never waste anything

even trash can be turned

into treasure and rings

for someone in need

donate, do a good deed

give them half your share

if you dare

if you care

take only what you need.

-Sandra Johnson

(Inspired by the Robyn Wall Kimmerer’s Braiding Sweetgrass quote: “Take only what you need.”)

In the kitchen I like to be

cooking is the thing for me

reaching up for ingredients many

first in the supermarket spree

choose them very carefully

or imagine a new recipe

a la mode or soup du jour

with me,

you don’t know what’s in store

mixing is a tricky task

knowing what goes first or last

chopping may take the longest

but this mix always comes out best

sweets are just my favorite thing

angel food, homemade ice cream

cookies on a stormy day

will always cheer the gloom away

sometimes kitchen it gets hot

but anyplace better, there is not

sometimes when I’m dreaming so

I wish cooking school

as a youth I’d go.

– Sandra Johnson

Into Japan I’d like to roam

amidst cherry blossoms’ sweet perfume

konnichiwa as I kowtow

when meeting those in kimono

at giant red torii respectfully gaze

and simple Buddhist shrines amaze

its food, my favorite sushi bites

red and orange, black and white

the shodo, or calligraphy

and painting fascinating me

the brush’s art in every letter

seems light and dainty like a feather

the bonsai, it’s a careful tree

pruned ever so unnaturally

yet its tiny winding way

intimidates and awes my stay

no comfort comes though if I squeeze

into a cubicle meant for sleep

or a subway packed to brim

where workers fight to get in

her scrapers shout neon reds and greens

while bars pulse with karaoke scenes

she’s stunning, I can easily say

I’d love to visit in person one day.

– Sandra Johnson

Terror

terror come alive

vile, scary stuff

as opposed to fiction

whatever it be

for me, is freaky

the demons and boogeys

crawling out of the shadows, trees

are Covid and death

horrors haunting our breath

crushing lungs,

killing loved ones

have people praying and preying

living in nightmares

been hanging out in my mind

began an ugly reality, unreal

some October afternoon

bubbled up on its own

in the East

brewing in November

it came to us

seething, gasping for air

like “The Stand” idea

from an 11 year old

in 1957.

– Sandra Johnson

(Reference: Stephen King’s novel, The Stand and using words in the last line of his book Danse Macabre.)