Michael Walkerjohn Poems

Edgar Allen nailed it
Arvo Pärt composes by
it; and now at this moment
IAM wrightin' bout' this!
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Intimately kissed
to create a serene bliss
of rings around stars
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a strange place to be
remembering I'm not dead
IAM so relieved...
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Amazing it is
what IAM seeking reaping
where all there is there...
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Echoes
mimic these
persuasive phrases.
The few remaining, ‘we'
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From the rear
or hit, from the back
a view; of that too…
What exactly can this here
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In a ‘build' of words
there-in lays a ‘core'
the ‘insides' that serve
all else ‘outside', until the tree dies!
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Words come; embrace you
by mere chance with heart and hand
verse adventurous
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Seriously, what is the truth,
certainly not a closeted mind's shadowy yeas or nays;
proofs pudding, full of time's details,
a nation's sooth, rewrote in ‘conservative' ways;
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