ANNIE JOHNSON

ANNIE JOHNSON

Dreams Of Endless Summer

Oh, sacred day, born on the breath of morning;

Rising from the mist of wonder, dawning

Over dusty roads of wayward spirits

Dancing endlessly through the golden wheat;

Waltzing past the green glades of childhood

And the green caravan of trees marching

Endlessly across the distant horizon.

Bring to me the sounds of thunder;

Raindrops dancing on the tin-roof of time;

The sigh of thirsty flowers, dressed

In rainbows arching across the sky.

Oh, sacred day, born of beauty, ever

My delight, knee-deep in the memory

Of endless summer days fled forever

On the sun-tanned legs of yesterday.

Annie Johnson©

Time’s Thieving Fingers

Hushed the breath of night

And the night birds sighing.

The night sky sketches

The dark mountains of heaven;

Aloof, lonely crags dipping

Into the midnight pools

Of forever; rivers of dreams

Flowing to the plains of Earth.

I feel the current of infinity;

Its electric numbness ruling

The revolving doorway

Of unstoppable time

Opening onto the terrace

Of my undaunted soul.

Remnants of dreams;

Dewdrops of summer;

Budding limbs of spring;

Vie for remembrance

Amid a blaze of glory

And the strains of a soul-song

Tripping over the hay meadows

Of unforgettable beauty.

Night brings home the soft shadows

That kiss the aching heart

And bind the thieving fingers of time.

Annie Johnson©

Pillow Of Dreams

Night, with dreams tied up in passion’s folly.

The warmth and memories never fading

Of a night vanished on time’s ancient winds;

The radiant face, the tender smile; the form

Standing in the shadows, a quiet phantom

Stealing the moonlight from the night

Gathering the starlight from above me;

Love tokens, to cover me while I sleep.

Come back through the doorway of yesterday.

Bring me your face and form forever young -

Passion’s tanned cheek treasure I once knew.

Come back to me on the rush of wind, singing

In the deep voiced thunder, dark and velvety,

Of love’s lost eternity locked inside mountains

Or flowing on the turbulent rivers of my mind

Manifesting like a breathing golden idol

Walking out of the moonlight back into my heart.

There is a knowing that love never dies

But, gathers strength in absence and lonely tears,

And travels the distance through time’s agony

To manifest again on passion’s pillow of dreams.

Annie Johnson©

ANNIE JOHNSON

ANNIE JOHNSON has been writing poetry since she was 13 years old. She is now 81. She is Native American of the Shawnee Tribe. She has written and published two, six hundred-page novels and four books of poetry, now on Amazon. Annie is a world class quilt designer and quilter with many awards for her fine quilting stitch. Annie has won several poetry awards from prestigious world poetry organizations, including, World Union of Poets, she is a member of World Nations Writers Union, has received the World Institute for Peace award, the Ambassador de Literature award from Motivational Strips, the World Laureate of Literature from World Nations Writers Union and the Global Literature Guardian Award from Motivational Strips. She received a Certificate and Medal in recognition of the highest literature from International Literary Union for the year 2020, from Ayab Al Baldawi, President of the International Literary Union. Annie lives in Indiana in the same house she moved into when she married her late husband, 58 years ago. She has a son, two daughters, two grandchildren, and two sons-in-law and six cats. One daughter and her husband moved in with her after her husband lost his sight two years before his death. She enjoys cooking, reading poetry, and writing poetry. Annie played a silver flute in the University Symphony for three years, on a music scholarship and still plays her flute.