Three-year-old Strike

You want to play it safe,
Move back to ghost.
Determined and remembering movement without body.

Shadows look down on us
And try to penetrate into dream.

Hushed singing through strands of baby hair,
Cares not for this side of physical.
Stubborn and with a look so matter of fact,
My child, my child is on a hunger strike.

© 21-Mar-08 Sonja J. Phinney

Sich Einstellen

Are we really as wise with our burdens as
We feel we can provide aim?
Form is a blanket
which covers our eyes.
Beyond this we are delving, delving
And diving away, away.
Opening the light
In preparation?
Are we prepared?

© 29-Nov-2007 Sonja J. Phinney

The Great Divide

Play me your song, that I long to hear

When time arrives, I’ll know.

Show me the moment I can place in view.

Give to me the smell of you.


Embolden upon this silver charm

Your powerful audacity.



While I'm still subject to this gravity

Throw off a little breeze.

Bring me to that place for a moment more

and leave it on my tongue.



How the stage it sets the image

and broadcasts it to

All eternity.


In that moment, I am ungrounded

Drawn electrically.

Screaming through agelessly

Reaching toward the spires.


It’s always late,

But it’s never over.

All will hear the

Soul weavers singing through.


Play me your song, so that I may hear.

As the time arrives, I’ll know.

Show me the moment I can place in view.

Give to me the smell of you.


Embolden upon the silver charm

Your powerful audacity.

With virtue it hums inside.




© 20-Mar-2012 Sonja J. Johnston (for Dennis J Greene 1964-2002)

Direct Voices

Moment whispers in the air
in this old 1859 farmhouse.

"Hi", "hello", "Hey there", "over here",
"So n ya"
Making my head turn.

Close to me.

"Hello" I respond
as I continue to work.

I must say, they are trying

As I lean into other side.

© Nov 2008 Sonja J. Johnston

Universal

An impelled white apparition in front of the fire emerged
as I stood with my new babe in arms,
Unable to know with reason
of fear or trust.

Presented with a mist upon my heart
I rebelled against the motion
clutching fast my daughter
unable to protect her against
either fear or trust.

A passenger has found us and has
taken a seat.

From this ethereal light,
we remained intact.

-Sonja J Phinney © 13-Mar-08

Liven it Up

Sugar-up the amplifier.

Sweeten up the ropes.

Tornado down the elevator.

Show me your hopes.



A scramble on the subway.

A ringing silenced dead.

Liven up the balcony

Before we go to bed.



Blast all those spectators

See how many you can craze.

Overload the sockets

In this giant maze.



Have you gotten your alphabet

all souped up in this mess?

Making that navy seal look like a girl scout

In a defiant green dress.



© Sonja J. Johnston 07-Mar-2012

In the Prison my Father Grew

In the prison that my father grew

The pillars were smooth.

Nothing relayed was nothing

Anyone knew.



Only from the edges the gravel aligned.

A fine scramble of security, of tumblers and barn swallows.

Birds squawked for their black horses in the cold moon-shine.

I was so far away.



In my jasmine fortress,

silvery-white lunaria left a mosaic impression.




The artifacts there grew.

Those I would later find.

Relatives who would profess to the intrigue and mystery.



Regret kept itself inside that lock;

trusted in the air of your breath.

I was young with that breath

upon the window observatory.



The monster I feared that the thunder might bring.

Of drunken smoke filled pockets,

destroyed and passed out.



Reveled in my adulthood.

Uncovering the cloth,

peeking at the edges,

a mirror burning my eyes.



Cold is the morning upon our fence posts.

Walking spirits we pretend to be in our waking.


I am your baby.

I come and go like puffs from

Someone's pipe.

Moments of undefined presence.



I will whisper again in your ear

Before too long...

Still here,

A piece of you.



© Sonja J. Johnston 06-Mar-2012