Piecemeal summer dies long winter spreads it’s blanket again.
For ten years I have lived in exile, locked in this rickety cabin, shoulders jostled up against open Alberta sky.
If I were young again, I’d sing of coolness of high mountain snow flowers, sprinkle of night glow-blue meadows; I would dream and stretch slim fingers into distant nowhere, yawn slowly over endless prairie miles.
The grassland is where in summer silence grows; in evening eagles spread their wings dripping feathers like warm honey.
If I were young again, I’d eat pine cones, food of birds, share meals with wild wolves; I’d have as much dessert as I wanted, reach out into blue sky, lick the clouds off my fingertips.
But I’m not young anymore and my thoughts tormented are raw, overworked, sharpened with misery from torture of war and childhood. For ten years now I’ve lived locked in this unstable cabin,
inside rush of summer winds, outside air beaten dim with snow.
Michael Lee Johnson lived ten years in Canada during the Vietnam era and is a dual citizen of the United States and Canada. Today he is a poet, freelance writer, amateur photographer, and small business owner in Itasca, Illinois. Mr. Johnson published in more than 1037 publications, his poems have appeared in 37 countries, he edits, publishes 10 different poetry sites. Michael Lee Johnson, Itasca, IL, nominated for 2 Pushcart Prize awards for poetry 2015/1 Best of the Net 2016/and 2 Best of the Net 2017. He also has 169 poetry videos on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/user/poetrymanusa/videos. He is the editor-in-chief of the anthology, Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze: http://www.amazon.com/dp/1530456762 and editor-in-chief of a second poetry anthology, Dandelion in a Vase of Roses which is available here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1545352089. Michael is also editor-in-chief of Warriors with Wings: the Best in Contemporary Poetry, a smaller anthology available now: http://www.amazon.com/dp/1722130717
The rain drops have poured right through my eyes Right again the scars reveals themselves again Shared the broken heart into pieces Wondering the knight might still come Telling the pain it over But pushes hard feeling me I let
Reached, not yet pubescence: a cloud says, moon was crazy, treading on a forbidden lake of frozen tears. Breaking fast unto death for releasing the doves in sky of hymns. The gametes were weary. Procreation will wait. Let the dark
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When I heard the sound in the history of time a young me, I found. I probed my inner self I clutched her, stumbled and again, she was gone with the wind. Silent spectator, she was updating each character of
Assume for one minute that the world was healed again,strong, though creeping veins and ventricles, unclogged their own blockages and once again it’s you who can sing and live again presume you are well again,and again ,celebrating the night and