Denise Johnson

My Gossipers - Poem by Denise Johnson

What if by chance, 

my pencil strokes

had ears, and listened

they whispered to my

fingertips the secrets

I tell my paper

The ring finger told

the palm what pinky heard 

from pencil

perhaps on a cold day

our gossipers met up at noon

as we talk, they talk, 

word gets out what

index heard from palm

At night you lay

your head down

as hand creeps up to ear

you sleep but hear the rumors

ear can’t bear what’s traveled down

all the way from paper

ear waited all night for mind to awake

to pass along the news

mind won’t believe you didn’t hear it from me

that I possibly could love you

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Comments about My Gossipers by Denise Johnson

  • Kelly Seale (3/30/2013 1:45:00 AM)

    Denise...this is absolutely, an amazing write... and for your first post... I'm truly impressed. Look forward to more from you. Great Ink! ! ! ; -)
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Poem Submitted: Saturday, March 30, 2013

Poem Edited: Saturday, March 30, 2013

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