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Poetry
by Michael Lee Johnson
Dove
Poem
I hear
scratch of
little dove feet.
I hear peck
of little dove bills
in bird seed basket
on my balcony-
in near silence
on rain-filled
afternoon-
lightening,
thunderstorm
overhead darkness,
cramped up with rage,
holds off a minute
so I may
hear these sounds.
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Playful
Nothing
more playful
than a gray
moth dancing
- skeleton wings-
and a green-eyed
cat prancing
-paws swatting-
around a
lit kerosene
lamp
-shadow boxing-
and we all
had fun
in the
moonlight
top
Red
Rocking Chair
A red rocking chair
abandoned in a field
of freshly cut clover,
rocks back and forth-
squeaks each time
the wind pushes
at its back,
then,
retreats.
top
Rainbow
in May
May again,
the wind
falls in love with itself
skipping across asphalt
and concrete bare
with the breaking weather.
A rainbow
is half arched,
broken off deep
into the aorta
of the sky.
It hangs
from elastic
rubber bands
of mixed colors
dipped in God's
inkwell,
airbrushed
by the fingertips
of Michelangelo.
May again,
the wind steps high.
top
Michael Lee Johnson is a poet,
and freelance writer, Itasca, Illinois and author of The Lost
American: From Exile to Freedom. He has also published two
chapbooks of poetry. He has been published in USA, Canada, New
Zealand, Australia, Scotland, Turkey, Fuji, Nigeria, Algeria,
Africa, India, United Kingdom, Republic of Sierra Leone, Nepal,
Thailand, Kuala Lumpur, and Malaysia. He is also publisher and
editor of four poetry, flash fiction sites.
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