David Johnson Poems

If these walls could talk,
instead of standing tall and dumb like quiet white cliffs.
Not saying nothing, like quadruplets deaf, dumb and mute.
If these walls could talk, I'd be less lonely.
...

Gail force winds provide sails
with tension and thrust
to push the vessel through.
...

My heart beats heavy and faint.

my head pulsates with the feel of a fresh loss.
...

Early morning dew licks lavender lilies,
and they shine like purple wet tongues in the mornings first glow.

The heavy cloth of night has been lifted from the hills by a man on stilts, folded and layed behind.
...

The grass shivers on the hill.
The wind whips along its ridged spine
kissing each blade bending it back
like a dame at the ball.
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I place four lit candles in four corners in one room.
I place two bent knees on two floor boards,
with two hands puzzled together clenched tighter and tighter
to try and lessen sins
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At night,

the bed stands on all fours
chattering along its rails anticipating
...

I step out into the deepest, darkest night,
that I 've ever felt, but never truly seen.
Tonight I walk until the moon runs out of leash,
and waits for me at the tree line.
...

I'm alive here in this den.
This den that sounds of bears;
sleeping while the snows drift tall at the door
to show inches at the cracks of cold acheing night.
...

I fear the long and blackened night
I fear the fear in those in a battlefield fight
I fear that the general will advance the troops
and the hearts of the mothers at home
...