Ph: Oklahoma: Still Counting Past Blessings! Poem by Brian Johnston

I'm Seventy-Seven and happy to live in the State that I'm in!
As a child, Oklahoma near blew us away! The ‘Dust Bowl' killed some too,
and a passing tornado, some thought mite too friendly, missed homeplace by blocks
(in the year I turned four) . Then the poliovirus infected my sister!
Boy (twelve at the time) , got farmed out to Dad's brother in Tulsa, a while,
where I worked for my uncle remains of the summer. It's pain to explore
how child ‘trophy' was shuffled from ‘main house' to ‘doghouse? ' My relatives
fine - loss quite real with my sister near death, no friends near, so few things of my own.

Though life wasn't hard in my youth, I had little free time, less for sin
I could hide from my folks or temptation to lie: we would sup, with no skew
from fixed bedtimes. Dad woke at six-thirty (‘cept Sunday) , kid's doors brooked no locks.
No one got to sleep-in, and Mom fixed just one breakfast, I'm telling you, Mister,
though school weren't till nine. My dad fought to be fair, but my mom could beguile
to the point that I wonderd at times, I confess, if close friends liked her more?
She was art: laced with words so emotive, her heart minted adjectives!
Writing these words still their waves smooth my way. I see days, Lord, I feel so alone!


Brian Johnston
12th of May in 2020