24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
In the spotlight, everyone is watching.
A silhouette of a human.
Only a loving smile can be shown.
Dare to look me in the eyes?
An image sold for your viewing pleasure.
A soul giving itself to you, for a smile.
Standing alone, she is, frozen in time, listening, watching, waiting; the mask is removed.
Who Are You?
Sometimes I wish I could be a bubble
Be a beautiful iridescence
Keep my rose-colored glasses on
And ascend ever higher
But for all their shine
They are temporary
And I am not.
may i never blink when she’s here for the season
my flower girl blooms and i lose touch with all reason
i endure december rain and the dreaded january blues
just to see you again babe, you and all your hues
suffocate me with your petals i think i’ll be okay
you be the predator i’ll be the prey
your scent hangs like loose threads all pull and no push
i pluck it and your fragrance demands me to hush
i’m in your web of color
soothing
poison ivy
kill me with a kiss
but won’t you do it nicely
i’m fine ebbing in the springtime
as i know this is where you flow
i’ll lay in the garden bed with you forever
feeling the wind above us blow
Dandelions
As a kid, I didn’t care that dandelions were weeds
Pick them all!
Crushed stems filled fat little hands
Till little hands were bitter with milky sap
And when they had gone to seed
Their bobbing over sized heads
White and tufted
It took so many breaths
To send those weed seeds drifting
What is it like to be so highly revered,
That your very word is authority?
Do masters ever feel slighted
That hours of work, years,
Labouring onward
Through dulled eyes and hazy minds
Were dismissed as ‘genius’?
A born prodigy.
A lack of talent may sting,
But excessive talent can hurt.
We were walking down a Westport street
one summer night
after seeing band.
Someone had asked me to dance
and, not paying any attention to the man’s face,
I’d demurred.
In your penchant to reinforce the temporariness of
our arrangement, you suggested we walk to another club and come back for the car.
How far we got down the street
or what we talked about,
I can’t remember.
Behind us, headlights and the impossible moment of
thinking,
no, that can’t be
The moment after impact
everything – police cars and lights – was in my view,
but nothing – including the stranger who leaned down solicitously and stole my purse – was in my focus.
I remember you standing over me,
your hand on my shoulder,
steadying yourself
as much as reminding me
I was ok as you stroked my hair.
Later, after our respective healing times,
we made it part of our banter.
We weren’t a couple; we were survivors of the flesh.
It was easier to see how ill-equipped we were to commit to a future
neither of us saw the other belonging.
I think of that night
but not often.
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
Over the moor I stood alone
Giving the staring look to all
That was reduced to ashes
Within fraction of seconds.
My eyes were moistened
As I was shackled with grip
Seeing my own family in the apocalypse
That engulfed the nation complete.
Hello, shopkeeper,
I’m just dropping in
I’d like to return this please,
And here’s the slip of my buy-in.
It’s something I bought,
When it and I were still new-
Everyone clamored for one,
So I thought I had to get one too.
But it didn’t suit me well:
It clanked like a great drum
And sometimes it leaked; on the whole,
It was quite tiresome.
Please take it back,
I don’t even want a refund.
There were few joys,
But the break of a canyon.
So, yes, shopkeeper,
I’d like to return this heart.
I’ve had enough of it,
I’ve mended enough of its shards.