The dainty foot marks like daisy treads,
Loiters in her intoxication,
Places puddles in the perfume trail,
Coo's in enlightenment to my whistle.
Touch me not for she crushes my heart,
With her soft feet in black moccasins,
Chatter as she whispers on the walk,
In desire loves me to follow.
Lewd perfection I hoot in pursuit,
Swaying form winks as she turns to smiles,
Bottom lines skit in free offer,
Prejudiced I track the sensation.
As we pause for this Thanksgiving,
Count our blessings one by one,
We must not forget His dying
For the sins that we have done.
He forgives us for the asking,
All it takes is sincere trust.
The dear Lord who bought our freedom
Is approachable and just.
We need only to believe Him
When he says, " I died for you".
He took our sins as His own burden
And His promises are true.
In our multitude of blessings
From Father, Son and Holy Ghost,
The free offer of forgiveness
Is the one to cherish most.
Joyce Johnson
A permanent separation between
brows and crown; divorce still pending,
though ears have retained coverage rights,
and eyes - so blue they are brown – accents
to embellish emotional belief of baggage carried.
Spring pressured jaw that always seems to slip
the leash, run riot around pedigree breeds,
sloshing retorted shrapnel from a machine gun
tongue; generally over heated,
but I care,
conveyor belt heart that ships understanding;
free from charge, to a select few that manage
to place an order – no guarantee on broken parts,
and trust is a buy-one-get-one-free offer.
Just make sure it’s used by best before date
else recriminations may be incurred,
and I suppose these words I throw down
are robbed from history’s corpse:
resurrected – unlike Christ - as a shade
lurking somewhere in my corner of maybes,
black capped, ready to pronounce sentence
on misconceptions of my limited verbiage.
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