Clustered branches on trees still bare
of the season’s foliage stripped and spare
but for stick figures on a tangled mass of limbs
looking undressed where none can hide.
The morning light and heat from the sun
warms what was clothed under a wintry sky.
Joyce E. Johnson © 2017
I took this shot early in the morning about a couple of weeks ago in my back yard when the sun was just coming up. Cropping and cutting out a part of the houses in the picture helped to give it more emphasis on only the trees and the sky. We now have new buds and small leaves forming on the same trees because of our much warmer weather.
A new day’s dawn wakes from its sleep,
pink and orange hued clouds streak across the sky.
A burst of color that slowly wanes
emerges into the sun, now brighter and more blue.
Tiny buds and blooms, and grass that now turns green
shows the promise of new life
where frolicking squirrels, and little birds
all busy with work and play
rebuild their nest and tend their young.
A new season, fresh and fragrant spring
has arrived and pushed away the winter blues.
Joyce E. Johnson (2017)
There once was a tiny leprechaun
who lived in the hills of Ireland upon
fields of flowers and grass so green
he wandered about, but couldn’t be seen,
the little man known only as Shawn.
Then one day he came to town
sprinkling his lucky gold dust all around.
Like a bit of magic, he spread his cheer
to everyone everywhere, far and near,
then quietly left without a sound.
Joyce E. Johnson © 2017
Happy St. Patrick’s Day to everyone who wants or needs a little cheer. 🙂
They stood with others solemnly by
saluting the fallen and the brave
risking life and limb to bring about a promised peace.
Listening to the strains of, “Amazing Grace,”
flag draped coffins are carried under a guarded sky
across cemetery lawns to their final resting place.
Eulogies and names; so many to honor, too short a time,
families of victims pray their loved one’s story lives to remain
a memory, not forgotten, and why they gather today
because of terror unleashed like the rampant spread of disease.
Eloquent words gracing memorial walls and stones
don’t bring closure nor adequately explain
to those suffering loss with unfathomable pain
why a tragedy of this kind strikes with evil intent,
leaving more unanswered questions that remain.
How can there be those who choose
to live with such prejudice, and hate
towards others whose lives they count not
worthy of grace, mercy and love,
but think it better they not live at all.
In a world broken, where strife and anger exists,
rising animosity and distrust is given to believe
there is no hope, and people succumb
to the chaos and confusion that rises up like an ugly fist.
Joyce E. Johnson 2017
Footnotes; The story above is fictional, but the situation is real every day, here and elsewhere. There will always be hate and evil that rears its ugly head, even as we think things will, or might improve. The increased anti-Semitism and hatred towards groups in our country and others continues, even while our president works to set in place measures to stop that. Two years ago I posted fictional stories under the title, “Acid Rain” about two brothers, both having the same mother but different fathers. One brother took the path of a terrorist, and the other an officer with the Israeli Defense Forces. You can find their stories here under the Acid Rain fiction heading in the menu on my site. The prequel to this story series began with Brothers Divided. Their stories are fictional, but the one of Isaac and Ishmael are not which I used as inspiration for the stories of Sam, and Gamal. The recent events of increased vandalism and terror threats to the Jewish Community centers in our country and increased anti-Semitism throughout the world prompted the poetic fictional story above.
When my father died in 1982 he had a personal library and collection of old books that he often used for reference for his sermon notes. He was a pastor of a church and loved quoting not only passages from the bible with different translations, particularly the Greek, Hebrew and King James. But he also used some from great poets if there was a vein of similarity in what they published to notes and thoughts in his sermon notes.
Being the voracious reader, collector of books, and poetry buff that I am I inherited some rare and ancient tomes from him that I still have today, some of which are barely holding together. I even have an antique German bible belonging to my paternal grandfather that was also his. Another little gem from his collection is a reproduction of a little devotional book full of favorite scriptures and poetry verses used by president Abraham Lincoln.
I thought I would share a thought from Lord Byron, the British poet from the little book above, “2000 Sublime and Beautiful Thoughts,” an antique published in 1897 by The Christian Herald publishing house. It is full of poems, quotes and thoughts from some of the most famous of classic poets like Tennyson, Longfellow, Browning, Emerson, Byron, Wadsworth, Dickens, Voltaire, and Shakespeare.
This is a quote from Lord Byron. “Words are things; and a small drop of ink, falling like dew upon a thought, produces that which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.”
Words are powerful. They can be positive tools of reinforcement. They have the power to impact a life, produce change, uplift and encourage a despairing soul, instill hope, inspire creativity, bring joy and happiness. Do you have a favorite poet, a quote, thought on this, or words you remembered that inspired you that you would like to share in a comment here? If so, I would love to hear back what you have enjoyed.
Joyce E. Johnson (2017)