The Wee Hours of the Morning
The wee hours of the morning,
Awake and softly singing
Remembered love songs
Roosting in the rafters
Of my romantic soul.
Coming from the drowsy land
Of faraway misty realms
Of reality, mixed with dreams.
Sparing me not his smiling lips
His ringing laughter; his salty tears.
I quite float away on beams
Of shining-eyed happiness
Total recall of whispered love words
The raspy breath of morning
Caressing my ears with eager joy.
Is it any wonder that I lie awake
In the wee hours of the morning;
Joy of memory rising to the rafters
Where all my longing goes to roost
On the early morning sunbeams
Pouring through the wonder
Of every dawn I spend with you.
Dreams Remembered
My dreams dog the heels of evening shadows
Darting in between the threads of moonbeams
Descending on the paths of twilight’s ending
As the familiar stars of midnight whisper
From the faraway nocturnes of my girlhood.
Faint are the crescendos the Meadow Lark sings
Through the feathery realms of dandelions
Caught on the passing wind of Fairy wishes.
Softly sing the memory of embers burning
Where the long dead ashes of youth lie cold,
Fading in the curling smoke of lost hope
Pressed between the pages of love poems
In worshipful beauty of a tender heart’s caring
That love would come and never grow old.
Alive, the belief that dreams came true
In the shaft of Holy sunlight streaming
Through the stained-glass windows of youth
To touch the pious head of the girl I once knew.
If dreams could take me back to that golden time
On wings of light; it is there I would gladly fly.
Annie Johnson is 84 years old. She is Shawnee Native American. She has published two, six hundred-page novels and six books of poetry. Annie has won several poetry awards from 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 World Laureate of Literature from World Nations Writers Union and The William Shakespeare Poetry Award. She received a Certificate and Medal in recognition of the highest literature from International Literary Union for the year 2020, from Ayad Al Baldawi, President of the International Literary Union. She has three children, two grandchildren, and two sons-in-law. Annie played a flute in the Butler University Symphony. She still plays her flute.
2 thoughts on “Poetry from Annie Johnson”
Excllent poems, dearest Annie. Heartiest congratulations to the great poet.
Excllent poems, dearest Annie. Heartiest congratulations to the great poet.
Thank you, dearest.