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Poem

now just silence found hanging from boughs of my mind,
as a tendril seeks aid? from a thought? from a word?
or a prayer that might help some truth come to light,
dreams that fruit in some way (vain to share them with God?)
as eyes greet each day's dawn though, this hope feels proved odd.

as I drown in life's answers, let me still be kind,
am discouraged as new leaves droop more toward the ground,
and Trump’s season brings 'chill,' let me live in Your will.
are these silences tears that my shame can't express
or more primitive fears that man's mind won't address?

is all poetry futile? LORD, friends despise rhyme,
find blank verse less offensive when meter dies too.
are my best thoughts archaic, post-modern mosaic?
do my colors, white spaces, contrive, hint a loss
that the humble can feel, that suggests there's one Boss?

all verse coward's way? capital letters a crime,
some have noticed, most missing here, smaller case stew?
song's notes sung in sad keys? does man sink, just disease?
the earth flounders, as CO2 gases replace
all life's oxygen! please, Lord, show Science, Your Grace!


Brian Johnston
19th of May in 2019

Poet's Note:
For Bra Sly Vancouver. I hope she likes it!

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