It's in the depth of your syllable,
insurmountable charm;
Shining through my mind when
I speak your name.
You are on the road, when I'm alone,
and it's still the same.
Cover my body.
Drape me in light.
You are my mascot on the darkest night.
Unfurl this time;
Unblind my eyes to see
the great divide and the mystery.
the biggest victory.
Come a little closer.
Please don't stop.
I have a little bit of heaven on my mind.
© 22 Mar 2015 -Sonja J Johnston
Tuesday, March 31, 2015
Wednesday, March 18, 2015
Pearls and Silver III
Little hands make a connection in a ring.
His hardened hands sit back and admire the robed woman who is with these children.
Other robed women come and sit, but are unwilling to stay.
There is music winding up inside his hardened hands.
Playing guitar to the children
Words behind the eyes;
smoke behind the mirror.
Forward is why we are here now
Music and art into a new time
A new measure in time.
Trumpets of the unearthed gather at the ceiling and walls;
springtime offerings.
Little hands, big eyes fill
and the water is running over the cliffs outside the window.
Sonja J. Johnston © 18-March-15
His hardened hands sit back and admire the robed woman who is with these children.
Other robed women come and sit, but are unwilling to stay.
There is music winding up inside his hardened hands.
Playing guitar to the children
Words behind the eyes;
smoke behind the mirror.
Forward is why we are here now
Music and art into a new time
A new measure in time.
Trumpets of the unearthed gather at the ceiling and walls;
springtime offerings.
Little hands, big eyes fill
and the water is running over the cliffs outside the window.
Sonja J. Johnston © 18-March-15
Tuesday, March 17, 2015
Engel
The soft ermine swaft of her hand between the gules and lavender fell gently.
Engel in full light.
It befell that on the same day he would find her;
paint her and add her to his collection on paper.
She, with the endearing eyes hugging the winds.
Within him stirred as paints were mixed.
© 17 Mar 2015 -Sonja J Johnston
Engel in full light.
It befell that on the same day he would find her;
paint her and add her to his collection on paper.
She, with the endearing eyes hugging the winds.
Within him stirred as paints were mixed.
© 17 Mar 2015 -Sonja J Johnston
Monday, March 16, 2015
Your Pleasure is Sick and Thin
You are my car wreck nightmare; the gravel in my floorboard.
It is a wonder how you get to the big world in me with all those hours you have.
I cannot fathom my piece in it all.
We have nothing.
I fly the depths of my reality,
while you are the reducer in the dirt digging.
I wish I could take your pearls back to the ocean; wash your words in the torrents of the sea.
I am sick of your commotion,
this bitter knife you raise at the table.
I have too many hours of my own to
weep for real things.
I am not part of the plants that you grow.
It is what isn't.
Stop making it incessant.
Blue lights on the highway.
Spare the debris.
Sonja J. Johnston © 16-Mar-2015
It is a wonder how you get to the big world in me with all those hours you have.
I cannot fathom my piece in it all.
We have nothing.
I fly the depths of my reality,
while you are the reducer in the dirt digging.
I wish I could take your pearls back to the ocean; wash your words in the torrents of the sea.
I am sick of your commotion,
this bitter knife you raise at the table.
I have too many hours of my own to
weep for real things.
I am not part of the plants that you grow.
It is what isn't.
Stop making it incessant.
Blue lights on the highway.
Spare the debris.
Sonja J. Johnston © 16-Mar-2015
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)