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Best Poems Written by Barbara Johnson

Below are the all-time best Barbara Johnson poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Barbara Johnson Poem

Reaching For Peaks

The ponderous fog lifted early,
now the widening bounteous blue
makes its presence known,
my feet stay on the ground,
but my eyes climb an upward
journey passing slowly in review
and as big as passion itself.

I'm gently carried to another height,
a caressing contentment and quiet period
where the depths of inspiration
seem limitless among the sculptural
mountains that slope near, then
irregularly lift and fall, and beyond 
every heightening, a new heightening waits.

Resting on the mountaintops, one huge
cloud with scalloped edges of mighty
morning shine, and lingering high above
are the smoldering sunbeams, therefore,
ranks of gold in scattered grandeur
are put on view wherever it falls.

A wandering river coursing unhindered,
alongside, verdant fern that's spread out
like green lace, but also sated
pines in their stateliness of movement.
Reaching for mountain peaks so that
serenity stretches out its sensors
to relieve any inner restlessness or 
turbulence while steadying my hurried pace.

Details | Barbara Johnson Poem

Tightly Clutched

Time and again,
life is as capricious as the current of air,
yet right now, I sense a nocturnal, harmonious blending.
The upper, black immensity is leaning over the sedated shore,
night is lukewarm, timely, gentle winds are pleasing,
the circular moon is distant, lit with a full lustrous face
and hemmed in by spangling stars all about.
Tightly clutched not only to nightfall's control,
but also, to its seeping of a tranquil embrace,
taking on, the inexpressible charge that I experience
while walking in the cool, effortless hours.
The euphonious deep, dark as crimson-red wine,
salts the atmosphere to preserve a worthy indulgence.
As it rolls toward me 
through its appealing surges of approachable exchange,
it sees where I am encumbered.
Here in the billowing dusk, the massive deep
is a gentle maker of musical melange;
inserting a bliss of solitude
and sounds of clarity to linger on.
To this night I cannot come back to,
but I can consume and savor all of its assets;
the visible, the audible.
Forcefulness, Influence and Mastery;
the soothing and stimulating ocean strokes.

Details | Barbara Johnson Poem

The Sweetest Thing Without a Soul

There's a beauty of rich intensity for which
the sun offers its full morning blessing,
an elegant red regard that soothes
a longing heart's desire, a warmth of emotion.
An inspired making that is fresh, free and real,
it is the Red Red Rose; a "Silent eloquence."
The air is drenched with its sweet smell
being the only one of its kind, and cannot
truly be transformed into something artificial,
the soft weight of the petals 
has the touch like babys' skin, I observe
its strength as a heartening symbol
for it appears to be carefree on the bush
or stands very well alone,
the stem is strong and straight, while the
leaves grow from the sturdy branches,
then as the bud fills out it becomes
more liberated and independent,
breaking away from the rest
of the bush like life itself,
the tender petals open up like your heart
to pleasure, and also fades gracefully
under the sun as we do with age.
At the end, the rose falls to the ground
fulfilling its life, just like we
live our lives from birth to eternity...

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Hardline

June has raised her fiery head!
Consistent and grating schemes commence
to appear from her adamant attitude.
Searing flames are felt
against my touchy coddled skin,
the arrogant sun
smolders me in misery;
my face is slapped with only
random drops of rain to insult me,
intense, humid days scald like hot milk
while the breaths of pleasure are choked back,
liquefied bodily salt seeps
into my eyes, acrid and extreme,
mirages aggressively taunt my vision
like a cat and mouse game.
Necessary thoughts begin to erect
for cool flooding waters to sweep over me, or
chilly gusts of speed to hurriedly hug me.
I crave the flip side of
June's overbearing wrath.

Details | Barbara Johnson Poem

In the Pink

Morning is a cistern;
its beauty laid out bare
to my naked eye.
Round, golden-amber flame,
gradual is your eager burning
one with significant strength and worth.
Your potent, pinkish explosion
is placed in view, in which,
my eyes are glazed over
what falls before me.
Your blushing tone angles
as it also reflects itself above
the sound of water so perfected,
brimming of detail;
coming in to fully focus
in a moment of friendly favor.
A received silence securely seizing me
with its mighty magnetism and stunning stimulus.

Details | Barbara Johnson Poem

Your Watercolor Portrait

Upon elegant handmade paper,
a paintbrush was dipped into watercolors
to create your portrait.
A blend of compassion and charisma.
With tiny brushstrokes,
your facial details reflect your appearance,
as quite handsome and youthful.
Revealed in your eyes, that certain
gentle temperament mixed with grit,
along with your affectionate, flirtatious smile.
A time frozen still.
Spellbound by your ageless charm;
in the flaunting of brilliance, with grace,
as the memories float in watercolor hues.

Details | Barbara Johnson Poem

Jasmine Tease

Between plowing through the day's mania
and ingesting mouthfuls of splendor;
you Lady Monarch, an avid adventurer,
on a brief sojourn tempt with your
phenomenal beauty and finesse in motion.

You fondle only a few of its white
ambrosial blooms while waltzing
with the mellow wind, which laved
the air and spirit with only
a slight scent of jasmine.

Your poise and allure,
earnestly begs me; your spectator,
to the leisurely, winsome movement
in gentle rhythms; pushing back my pointless
irritations in order to furnish untroubled reflections.

Yet never enough time--
now you must depart,
but I am sharply fixed upon your
physical grace as you take off;
I'm wonderfully touched...