Multi Titles
Michael Lee Johnson
60143-1542
PO Box 486, Itasca, IL 60143
Ph/Fax (630) 467-1332/30
E-mail: promomanusa@gmail.com
Or: poetryman@walla.com
(If you see any typo’s please let me know)
Tiny Sparrow Feet
By Michael Lee Johnson
It’s calm.
Too quiet.
My clear plastic bowl
serves as my bird feeder.
I don’t hear the distant
scratching, shuffling
of tiny sparrow feet,
the wing dances, fluttering, of a hungry
morning’s lack of the big band sounds.
I walk tentatively to my patio window,
spy the balcony with detective sensitive eyes.
I witness three newly hatched
toddler sparrows, curved nails, mounted
deep, in their mother’s dead, decaying back.
Their childish beaks bent over elongated,
delicately, into golden chips, and dusted yellow corn.
-2007-
In the Garden Where the Flowers Grow
(Photo available on request- Ecphrasis)
By Michael Lee Johnson
I’m going to take Islam where their God has not been before-
to the garden of Jesus, olive oil presses, Gethsemane--
trees, flowers, fruits, vegetables didn’t poison anyone there.
Passion was sweat on the ground and brow.
There weren’t darts of hate, misconception or terrorism;
children on their knees five times a day brainwashed to hate.
Christ didn’t lead them astray nor make them pagan pink.
There is no God apart from Allah, and Mohammed is the Prophet,
but it’s Jesus who makes the garden grow with or without water.
Then and now the apples grow in my garden of forgiveness.
Figs trees grow far away where I can’t reach them but believe in them.
Like the Tamarisk tree, Christ is a source of honey,
manna and wafer, a taste so sweet in the desert so dry.
You don’t have to be a scholar to write poetry, religion, or understand
the Eucharist; but you need to be a real saint to know the difference.
Islam, is Judas Iscariot among your converts nose pointed toward
Mecca today?
I’m going to take Islam where their God has not been before-
to the garden where the flowers grow.
-2007-
Copyright © Micahel Johnson | Year Posted 2007
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