Welcome to Poetically Yours. Poetically Yours showcases poems by northern Illinois poets. This week's featured poet is Michael Lee Johnson.
Johnson, a renowned poet from Downers Grove, Illinois, has gained international recognition with his work, which has been published in 46 countries or republics. His poems have received seven Pushcart and seven Best of the Net nominations. He has over 355 poems on YouTube. He’s a member of the Illinois State Poetry Society and Poets & Writers.
I saw you both in centenarian dreams.
Tweedledee and Tweedledum were way past
the recollection of years of recalling thoughts.
Diddling away time, storytelling in front of children
playing leapfrog with words.
Posing as loners pulling whirligig toys around.
Contemplating a simple facial gesture
towards God, visualize a different image returned.
Reflections, those darting, sinful shadows plaguing the dark.
Poe never remembered much, amnesia sniffed out of a bottle.
His impish actions created a theater of glued horror.
Poe stumbles through dirt, mud paths,
town streets, those night bars, local, deadly.
Emerson's thoughts are not nearly the same.
He never walked intoxicated, tripping
on bygone wooden street planks.
Ghost encounters were never the same,
no steps, no stones, no delusions.
Emerson's self-reliance, minus bubbly suds.
Emerson's grave inscription
Sleepy Hollow slumber, I rest—
"Passive Master lent his hand."
Dead grass, old poets, deceased.
Poe, "Here, at last, I'm happy."
Rolling over three red roses
and a bottle of cognac.
Tweedledee and Tweedledum.
