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A Poem Of The Night
a poem
is a thought
of flowers
near frost,
dangling stiff
bitten by
the vampire of
late fall,
hanging desolate
near dusk
from a pot
on a patio porch-
with a yellow bulb
light beaming
conspicuously outward
over chilled
yellow green
glazed grass.
While my cat Nikki
hunches over a coffee,
table, toasty & warm,
nose pressed
super glue
to the window
on guard for
passing birds,
cars-
utility vans
with large bubble eyes.
Cold Gray
Below the clouds
forming in my eyes,
your soft eyes,
delicate as silk words,
used to support
the love
I held for you.
Cold, now gray, the sea tide
inside turns to poignant foam
upside down & separates-
and only ghosts now live between us.
Yet, dream like, fortune-teller,
bearing no relation to reality-
my heart is beyond the sea now.
A relaxing breeze sweeps
across the flat surface of me.
I write this poem to you
neglectfully sacrificing our love.
I leave big impressions
with a terrible hush inside.
Gray bones now bleach with memories,
I am a solitary figure standing
here, alone, along the shoreline.
Michael Lee Johnson lives in Chicago, IL. after spending 10 years in Edmonton,
Alberta Canada during the Viet Nam era. He is a freelance writer and poet. He is interested
in social, religious topics, and the need for universal health care in the United States.
He is presently self-employed, with a previous background in social service areas. He has
a B.A. degree in sociology, worked on a Masters Program in Correctional Administration.
Recent published poems: The Orange Room Review website: http://www.freewebs.com/theorangeroomreview/;
Bolts Of Silk website: http://boltsofsilk.blogspot.com; The Flask Review:
http://www.freewebs.com/theflaskreview/; Apollo’s Lyre, in their webzine: http://www.apollos-lyre.com/;
Chantarelle’s Notebook website: http://www.chantarellesnotebook.com; and Fresh!
On Line Literary Magazine website: http://members.aol.com/shirgerald/shortst.htm
Email: Michael Lee Johnson
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