© Four Facets: The Poems of Michael Lee Johnson

TURNIPS IN SOUTHERN TENNESSEE STILL

In Tennessee, the shadows of the southern wooden structures stalled off the narrow highway and came to an abrupt end. Lost in the deep eyes of forest green, closing in on night. From the top of a Yellow Poplar tree scares me looking down at the hillbilly stills. Moonshine and moonlight illuminate the fire stills. Moonshine murders of the past, dead bodies hidden behind blue walls. Mobs lie in Chicago, bullet marks on the right side like dormant through plaster. This confirms my belief that Jesus only works part-time. Let me look at this mirage picture photo album. One more time - find the turnips in the still.

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STEEL BARS IN A SINGLE SHEET

I'm Steely Dan Seymour Butts, South America, trust me on that. I can't pull up my sheet inside these steel bars anymore. 25 to life. No man is God in the cold or the clouds. Isolated poets grab words anywhere they can find them in newspaper clippings, ripped-out Bible verses are a sin. No one pities people like me in prison. Spiders hand from my cell ceiling - dance the jitterbug. "In the Mood." Jigger bug fleas on my unpainted cement floors. My butt is toilet paper brown, flush. Toxic thoughts grind on my aging face, body, and declining health. In this dream, I reach for a hacksaw that is not there. End this night and so many more suffer in just a snore.

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BREADCRUMBS FOR STARVING BIRDS

Smiling across the ravine, snow-cloaked footbridge. Prickly ropes slick with ice, snow-clad boards, pepper sprinkled with raccoon tracks, virgin markers, a fresh first trail. Across and safe, I toss yellow breadcrumbs onto white snow for starving birds.

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IN THE SUN, THEY ALL-PASS

In the bright sun in the early morning Gordon Lightfoot sings. When everything comes back, to shadow thin, thunderclaps - and drips of rain. The coffee pot is perking again. Even though Gordon has passed.

I experience a mix of life.

A blender of the plurality of singulars mounting movie moving frames all returning to memory and mind.

The echoes of insanity, a whisper schizophrenic, Poe's haunting verses.

The romances of Leonard Cohen are hidden in foreign hotel rooms, lost keys, forgotten scenarios and forgotten places. All silence skedaddles away from death stolen, those leftover tears of a lifetime -

now expired on earth -

seek through

pain abstains.

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Michael Lee Johnson is a poet of high acclaim, with his work published in 46 countries or republics. He is also a song lyricist with several published poetry books. His talent has been recognized with 7 Pushcart Prize nominations and 7 Best of the Net nominations. He has over 653 published poems. His 336-plus YouTube poetry videos are a testament to his skill and dedication. He is a proud Illinois State Poetry Society member, and an Academy of American Poets member.

His poems have been translated into several foreign languages.

Awards/Contests: International Award of Excellence "Citta' Del Galateo-Antonio De Ferrariis" XI Edition 2024 Milan, Italy - Poetry. Poem, "If I Were Young Again."