Author Archive

Emerging spring   Leave a comment

 

 

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)

 

 

 

 

Posted March 21, 2017 by Joyce in My Photos, My Writings, Photography, Poems, poetry, Seasons, Spring

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Shawn, the Leprechaun   2 comments

Image result for st. patrick's day images

 

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. 🙂


Stricken   4 comments

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.

A treasured antique of quotes and notes from famous, classical poets   4 comments

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)

Posted March 6, 2017 by Joyce in My Photos, My Writings, Photography

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THE SCRIBE   7 comments

Image result for Ancient Hebrew Scrolls

THE SCRIBE

With sheets of old yellowed parchment spread out

the scribe sits down at his splintered worn desk,

and with withered hand he dips his quill

into a thick substance inside the inkwell,

and turns his face towards Heaven, blessed be He,

God of the universe, and praise to the One

who sits on the throne, all the earth be His.

It is not what the scribe hears with audible voice,

but what his heart hears and knows to be true

for that which is given him scribed upon

with sweeping gesture, flourish and swirls

the Hebraic characters penned in ink

are the scribe’s writings on ancient scrolls.

______________________

Joyce E. Johnson © 2017

Toppled by forces beyond our control

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We get Chinook winds here in northern Colorado that can get up to 100+ mph. The strength and force can blow over even the strongest trees. That happened recently to some trees we had up on our mountain property northwest of Fort Collins. We don’t live up there full time, but when we went up there recently we found some of our largest, even healthy looking trees toppled over, uprooted completely from the ground around the rocks and boulders with the roots exposed.

It reminds me of how vulnerable our country and government administration is right now. The media running amok with ‘leaks’, compromising influences, immigration bans, repeals, etc. further adds to the already weakened, wobbly foundation. Add to that all the protest marches of people taking their gripes, complaints, personal vendettas and agendas to the streets with chants, signs and slogans like ‘a day without immigrants’ to change what they can’t, or won’t abide by, and we have a volatile situation that can only get worse, not better. If things continue as they’re going ‘We the People’ will destroy and topple what was set up to protect all when our country was founded.

Everyone has an immigrant story to tell. My grandfather and his family were immigrants from Odessa, Russia who set down roots, and established a life based on the values our country set forth in the constitution. He went through legal channels, became a U.S. citizen, was naturalized, and valued every right and freedom in this country. He voted his candidate choice, but he did not put down others who voted differently, or disagreed with him. If he disagreed on something, whether one in political office or another who wronged him he did not pick up a sign and take his offense to the street, but chose to pray over it instead of protesting over it. He carried a bible instead, and lived by the principles in it, with respect for others, regardless their political perspective, faith or life choices. If only we could return to the things that really did ‘make America great,’ what a wonderful country we would have. Like him or not, disagree if you want, but we now have a man who is trying to do that, for the good of all people.

In the New Testament bible (Matthew 13: 3-9) it tells about Jesus’s parable of the seed sown. He talks about the seed sown by the sower planting a crop. Good seed goes down deep in the soil where there are no rocks or boulders obstructing its growth. It takes root and nothing but the forces beyond our control will topple it or blow it over upon itself. Seed scattered and tossed among the rocks and weeds will be easily uprooted, blown over, and not grow. We are known by the fruit of our tree. Good seed was planted in this country when founded, and the constitution enacted. It rooted, grew, flourished and prospered. But, today much of that root system is in jeopardy of toppling a great tree.

There will never be harmony or unity here in our country when thousands choose to defy all that our president is trying to do for the whole of this country. Wisdom comes in knowing how best to reflect our voice, disapproval or disenchantment of things we don’t like. Marching in the streets, shouting chants, carrying signs, does little to affect real change. It is just a lot of noise, and fodder for CNN News.

_____________

Joyce E. Johnson, 2017

 

Silent Love

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No eloquent words, flowers, gifts or cards

could he give her, but just a token

gesture of his affection

with twisted smile, and memory all but gone.

Eyesight, hearing, failing too,

he tried to form his thoughts,

while expressing his love to her,

but his stroke had stolen from them so much.

Like the younger version of himself

with vibrant, baritone rich voice

when he once belted out old tunes,

are but broken phrases hanging on.

With faint muttering he attempts to sing,

to remember the lyrics, what he wants to say

like the day he swooned her heart with song.

But, she’ll treasure what they have today

for she fears the day when he is gone.

and prays to God it lingers on.

_______________________

Happy Valentine’s Day to all.

Joyce E. Johnson © 2017

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