Tuesday, September 1, 2020



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 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.

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