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Best Poems Written by Lauren Johnson

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

Details | Lauren Johnson Poem

Wisps

"Friend,
Mind wandering through misty woods.
You don't understand your purpose.
Friend,
I knew you too little,
Please do not shed your salty emotions,
Not out of anger, not out of sadness.
Friend,
You now lose your way so easily,
You sink, you burst, you burn inwardly.
You weep from frustrations, 
From the guilt of an honest smile,
From pains, that you forget for a moment,
That come swiftly back to haunt you of your loss.
I understand, dear friend.
You once had a light and the woods seek to snuff it out.
Do not fear, dear friend,
Friend follow me, as I once did you.
Friend, now you see?
Yes, you see,
The little wisps in the fog that guide us home."

~In memory of Bill Hamman, and all else who have suffered the pains of Alzheimer's

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The Center's Footsteps

Thoust message rings,
But it is a wretched beauty.
Sew up thine tongue;
It forks in many directions,
Ensnaring, passing through the centers,
Weaving a thread gleaming, deceivingly white,
Yet drenched in the black goo,
The sticky gobs of our source, our blood.
Cast aside thine needle,
Let time make it blunt.
Wallow in thine sorrow,
But only for a moment.
Up, up with you!
The sticky gobs cannot protect thee.
See me, Hear me.
For I see thee...
Thou hast split thine tongue
To hide, to forget.
Thine forked words, black to all, clear to me.
Go on, go ahead,
Walk through its enveloping black.
And when you cannot run,
Crawl.
And when you can’t do that anymore, 
Find someone to carry you.
Thou art strong!
Let thine center give you new feet!
Yet,
If even thine center falls weary,
I shalt be thine legs.
I shalt carry you, my friend.

Details | Lauren Johnson Poem

Flames of No More

Mediocre.
The world settles for it.
We settle too sometimes,
But not you.
You are on fire.
You are THE fire!
The fire that lights those who’d lost,
Lost their way in the sea of Mediocrity.
Your Flames, Your Roar,
Screaming out to us!
“Reach for the stars.”
“Climb”, “Never settle!”
This is my promise.
I will not! I will never settle!
Your flames carry on.
Your roar resonates with my soul.
One day, I too will roar.
My flames will burn brighter and hotter.
On this day, I know you will be watching.
You will see how I see, 
What you saw in me.
I will see their potential,
Their gladness of no more.
Mediocrity is now dead.
Your flames - to me, to them, and beyond.

“I am not here to make mediocre engineers!” - Dr. Bharat Joshi
Rest In Peace, knowing your flames carry on!

Details | Lauren Johnson Poem

Lonesome Cities

One second,
That’s all it takes.
Just one phrase,
One slip of the mind…
And cities crumble.
The walls you see,
Still shimmer and sheen.
The city crumbles.
Bigger walls, built around it,
To the outside show splendor and might,
Yet is a mighty push from within.
No one is to come near,
Not anymore.
Delight across the face,
Hide the falls behind the soul’s doors.
No more – please, no more.
This city is weary with sorrow,
And much toil.
Can it not rest for a while?
Will no one prove those before amiss?
The black snow rains on this city,
It covers the ground,
Buries the walking dead.
Beloved ally, do not reproach thine-self.
The clouds that breathe this black
Are not of your city.
The Brutus city is not yours.
This Cain of a blow reaches,
Reaches deep, letting black snow loose.
Comrade city, lonesome city,
The façade lifts, thanks to thee.
The black snow thins.
Please, lift the doors from the dirt,
And know, we are lonesome cities.
Cities crumble.
Black snow thickens,
Yet two lonesome cities we shall remain.

Details | Lauren Johnson Poem

The Sire's Journey

Off to mountains he climbs
Whilst staying in his mind.
Off to battles he goes 
Defeating many foes.

The nature of his quest
Unruly as it may be,
Sings noiselessly in the air.
It cries and screams,
Yet pride smirks on his face.
It wriggles and squeals,
Yet his begotten one he will not yield.

His words speak kindly to it,
Soft like the wind,
Yet harsh they become
Like leaves rushing through the mountains’ wrath,
To those who may bring it harm.

Invisible string links them no matter the distance,
And at the beckoning call it grows taller than trees,
And has become stronger than the foundation of the earth.

Off to mountains it climbs
Whilst staying in its mind.
Off to battles it goes
Defeating many foes.

Details | Lauren Johnson Poem

A Hero

I once dreamed of being a hero.
Of picking up a gun or sword and defending 
A child, my school, my cousins, my friends.
Of going into a burning building to save
A baby, a dog, a father, a mother.
I dreamed that people would respect me,
Would talk to me and write about me,
Would want to meet me –
Would want to know me.
I dreamed of saving my classmates from idiots with guns.
That I would be famous and loved.
That I would be in history books.
But now, I see.
I see that’s not the case.
I see that that is not the hero I want to be.
I see now that you can’t save lives by taking others’.
Heroes are not just 
Policemen, army dogs, marines, firefighters, or doctors.
They are teachers,
Children who wish for an education rather than a phone,
People who build peaceful futures by building schools.
I see now.
I see that I can do more with brain than with brawn.
Now that I see – I promise.
I promise to use my education to benefit others.
I promise to fight violence with this, and not with a gun.
I have picked up one of the most precious tools.
A tool, that when used properly,
Can end – wars, terrorism, exploitations, racism!
This tool, I promise,
Will be my weapon for a child’s salvation – 
For the world’s salvation!
This weapon I use now,
And will continue to use it until I take my last breath – 
A pencil.
Heroes can be made from guns and planes and an operating table,
But that’s not for me.
I am a single person in a big world,
But I will not let that stop me.
I am a hero with an idea.
I am a hero with a pencil.
But here is the real question:
What kind of hero will you be?

Details | Lauren Johnson Poem

The Grey Ones

The fight between good and evil,
Ongoing, constant.
Many write about black and white,
Yin, yang.
These are young,
Those who have lived know
The Grey.
A rope between these poles.
A rope, true identity.
Black, white,
Two halves, both in one.
Only recognition of the Grey make one.
This chosen species,
So smart, so beautiful - so young.
It forgets its youth,
The Grey Ones,
Defined by living, not dates.
The Grey, young, can judge, wrong.
The Grey, mistakes, covet guilt,
No matter the cowardice felt in shame.
Not all is lost though.
These must recognize the instincts,
They and all species have.
All kinds simply make the call
They can with what is given, seen, known.
The Grey differ,
Differ in mind.
Intelligence, knowledge, can lie.
The Grey’s minds can seperate from Nature - self.
Minds expect forgiveness from past,
Yet cannot forgive.
The hardest thing to do in this world,
To live.
So live, continue, struggle, fight.
But breathe.
Breathe, break, even shortly, from the mind
To live a better path.
Struggle is a part of the Grey,
Good white, Evil black.
Acceptance of the rope between.
Be not one of the selves,
Be all of the selves.
Admittance to wrong choices,
No matter the right of the past.
Forgiveness, let go,
Past is come and flown.
Apologize, forgive,
Laugh at this youthful species.
Love the Grey.
White, black,
The pull between - The Grey Ones.

Details | Lauren Johnson Poem

An Agent of Life

My names symbolize and mean victorious.
I am a soldier of a higher power.
I am one that is here on a direct mission:
To defend the defenseless.
I am a sword.
The sword strikes those who attack the weak.
So that the attackers feel the wrath given to me,
And understand that I treat them as they treat others.
So that the weak know,
They are never alone in this fight.
I am a shield.
The shield defends and respects.
It respects that all are human,
I am wisdom.
I step back and watch the skirmishes of life,
I review them rationally,
So that when I join a battle,
I know, I am on the right side.
There is a higher power.
It inspires me to act.
But It is kinder than I.
It would forgive where I would strike back.
But I will fight anyways,
For it is my duty to fight other battles.
Life is a fight,
But I…
I am a sword.
I am a shield.
I am wisdom.
I am…
Victory!

Details | Lauren Johnson Poem

Who Comes From There

People are made of places, they say.
Then show me the mountains growing from your arms,
The sea coursing through your veins,
The bog pouring from your glands,
The ice and wind blowing around and through you.

Where I come from, People are of places and times;
But they are from experiences, from choices made.
The bully: protect self or them; become him, her, or better-ed.
The absence of green: watch others starve; go without it yourself.
The girl: push to relieve oneself; be pushed to relieve.
She-man: to carry is to drown, but you’ll smile all the while.

The smog creeps under the door;
It’s still your decision to face it, to open the door.
Let the fog in, let it become you, let it choke you;
The person there, they are the true you.  Do you like them?
Do you like where you’re from?

Details | Lauren Johnson Poem

Laurel

I am victory.
I wonder: present, not past or future.
I hear, sunset… and sunrise!
I see with your eyes, with eyes unclouded.
I want: helping, love.
I am smart.  I am strong.

I pretend … it’s alright though.
I feel: happiness, brokenness.
I touch the hearts, the spirits.
I worry, does it help, what I do?
I cry, loneliness.
I am done with losing, on with choosing.

I understand: alone, as in, unique.
I believe: it’s alright!
I hope: family united – kindred-ness.
I dream, conquering suffering.
I try, NO… I do!
I am the coolest girl in the whole wide world!
I am – me!