Ode to My Hair Clip
We’ve been together now
for years,
and I think it’s time we
comb the area and
put down some roots.
I need to keep you in my life.
You help me hold it together
when it all gets squirrelly.
Without you, it would all
come tumbling down
in a matted heap,
leaving wayward strands
confused, not knowing
which way to go.
I’m grateful to you for
having my back and
keeping me cool
for keeping me untangled
and able to see things
for what they truly are.
You keep me in my lane –
and help me avoid collisions
with walls and cars and
people and random things
like pickle displays in
Kroger and
cactus plants in Lowe’s.
You encourage my reading habit
even more than my glasses do.
You really help me keep a clear head.
I admire how you keep holding on
for the wild ride,
never letting go,
even when everything is hairy.
Oh Goody, you’re my main squeeze!
Connecting
Empty journals –
new and blank,
for student writers
who need a fresh start,
a blank slate,
a chance
to begin anew.
A smile –
an opportunity
to connect with a student who doesn’t get many smiles.
A conversation –
a way
to encourage a student who feels
disconnected,
passive,
unmotivated,
an inspiration and a nudge to write
and be known
and heard
and loved.
We kicked off National Hispanic Heritage Month at Pike County Middle School with the book Turning Pages: My Life Story by Sonia Sotomayor. Here is a link to a YouTube video that I used, in conjunction with her book, to create an acrostic poem using her name:
SONIA SOTOMAYOR
Supreme Court Justice
Of stories – of poems, of comics, of law and mystery
New York’s Bronx her stomping ground
Influenced heavily through reading and books
Advocates for literacy
Security and comfort and adventure through books
Of science and science fiction in English and Spanish
Turning Pages: My Life Story is her picture book
Of her place in the world, books provided a sense
“My Life Story” built on hugs from Grandma and pages of books
A foundation of who she could become was told on pages
Yesterday’s journey through books forged today’s walk of life
Of love of diversity – of people, of genre, of language
Reading was her guiding light of her understanding of the world
-Kim Johnson
German Interludes
customs in Berlin
a venomous attitude
is he rude at home?
does he have a family?
has he ever smiled before?
city walking tour
with guide Silke Schlittermann
history unfolds
Topographie des Terrors
timeline of atrocities
don’t get run over
stay aware of where you are
Berlin has bike lanes
car and subway train traffic
street trams and buses fly by
plexiglass in ground
empty bookshelves underneath
remember the fire
“If they’ll burn books, they’ll burn souls”
that’s exactly what they did
quinoa salad
Auf die Hand Feinstes fast food
beet root and edamame
spring mix and small green apple
water to drink with this lunch
black licorice sticks
postcards for all four grandkids
blue Berlin neck scarves
gummy bears and schokolades
Kinder egg with a surprise
swindlers swaggering
Pickpockets people-picking
graffitied buildings
maryjane-berlin dot com
colorful hair and tattoos
white asparagus
in season six weeks in spring
buttery in soup
never seen the light of day
green above ground, white below
Weidendammer Bridge
lovers’ names engraved on locks
fastened to the rails
authorities cut the locks
the love they symbolize lives
-Kim Johnson
“Please, Don’t Squeeze…”
I’d had a crush on you
since high school
my parents tried
to nip it in the bud
but it couldn’t be squelched
since high school
my parents tried
to nip it in the bud
but it couldn’t be squelched
I hugged my pillow
to sleep
pretending it was you
to sleep
pretending it was you
when you squeezed my hand
on our first date
I knew you were
the one for me
on our first date
I knew you were
the one for me
when you fixed my hamburger
gently squeezing
the mustard and ketchup
onto my buns
I had to fan
the flames of desire
gently squeezing
the mustard and ketchup
onto my buns
I had to fan
the flames of desire
you had a good grip on life
sold your ball python
to buy me a ring
sold your ball python
to buy me a ring
we got hitched
managed to squeak by
even in our poorest days
managed to squeak by
even in our poorest days
before long
little Whipples came along
You cheered me on-
“PUSH!”
little Whipples came along
You cheered me on-
“PUSH!”
I showed you how
to swaddle babies
to swaddle babies
you were
a wonderful dad
always
molding Play-Doh
squeezing fresh OJ
showing proper toothpaste dispensing
winning the
Whipple Reunion award
for best hugs
a wonderful dad
always
molding Play-Doh
squeezing fresh OJ
showing proper toothpaste dispensing
winning the
Whipple Reunion award
for best hugs
I noticed something
you had a particular skill for the job that made you famous
the rest is history
I, Charmin Whipple
will always
be your main squeeze
I’ve got your back
will always
be your main squeeze
I’ve got your back
The end
-Kim Johnson
Black Shawl
Black shawl
Crocheted, finely fringed
Like a lampshade
Wayward, lucid bristles
Poncho-patterned wrap
Thrift store treasure
Matching velvet bowler hat
Edge-flocked faux fur
Accessory pair to turn heads
Crocheted, finely fringed
Like a lampshade
Wayward, lucid bristles
Poncho-patterned wrap
Thrift store treasure
Matching velvet bowler hat
Edge-flocked faux fur
Accessory pair to turn heads
Found in your closet
After the funeral
I gave them new life
After the funeral
I gave them new life
Every Christmas, I wear them
With your favorite color – red
With your favorite color – red
And every Christmas, Dad gets a sparkle
In his one good eye
“Nice shawl. Where’d you get that?”
In his one good eye
“Nice shawl. Where’d you get that?”
“It was hers,” I always say.
Then both his eyes glisten,
Like a melting snowman,
remembering
That fateful Christmas Eve
When you spoke your last words.
Then both his eyes glisten,
Like a melting snowman,
remembering
That fateful Christmas Eve
When you spoke your last words.
-Kim Johnson
Picture Perfect?
Snapshot Berlin:
Brandenburg Gate
I walked through
All alone, without you
Snapshot: London
Westminster Abbey
Crowns and scepters tell who’s who
Doesn’t matter – they’re not you
Snapshot: Paris
Strong Espresso
Non-Americano brew
Tasteless beverage without you
Snapshot: Florence
San Miniato al Monte
Overlooking scenic view
No as gorgeous without you
Snapshot: Rome
Colosseum
Last adieu
Not a victor without you
Smiling proudly, checking in
Friends all liking where I’ve been
In my heart, not even Rome
Compares to what I have at home
Forgetting
I remember our first dates
eating barbecue in Papa Willie’s as lunch turned to
dinner
riding your motorcycle to see the countryside, secretly
scared to death
the orange Gatorade staining your mouth as we sat on
the concrete picnic table
I remember not wanting a third date
“No,” I answered
I was too ambivalent, too unready to date again
I cut you off and left for the beach
I remember driving home
getting the call that you and your parents were in a
freak accident
a car crashed through a restaurant window, hitting you
all as you ate dinner
you were staying at their house as you all recovered
I remember the church bringing food as you all healed
I signed up for pineapple and raisin glazed ham
delivered it and saw you sitting in a chair,
deliberately not looking up at me
and that was when I realized I’d made a mistake
I remember thinking what a bitch I’d been
feeling the urge to apologize and find out what you’d
been through
texting you, “Do you want to talk?”
my heart skipping a beat with your reply: “Well, YEAH!”
I remember the phone ringing
you didn’t waste a second
we talked for hours about the accident, about my trip,
about us
you asked me out again, and I accepted
I remember our next dates
walks in the Griffin city park,
sitting on a swing,
talking hours on end, conducting “traffic counts”
I remember our first kiss
you opened the car door for me, took my seatbelt and
fastened it
your lips accidentally brushed mine as you backed out of
the car
“There you go,” I smiled, and kissed you back, and then
kissed you again.
I remember the Valentine’s date to see Gordon Lightfoot in concert
finding a smashed trinket ring in the parking lot
probably a Cracker Jack surprise, tucking it in my pocket
humming “Rainy Day People” all the way home
I remember our memorable walks in the Griffin city park,
but none more so than the day you left the swing
and got down on one knee, and reached in your pocket
and proposed with the Cracker Jack ring that you’d
resurrected with pliers
I remember your royal blue shirt and your jeans and the love in
your eyes
and the matching royal blue car speeding by
a teenage boy fist-pumping cheers out the window as he
watched you propose
and answering “Yes,” even before you said, “I want us to
choose a better ring together.”
I remember our tenth anniversary
lying in bed, late at night, when you rolled over and said,
“Oh no!”
alarmed, I sat up. “What?!”
“I forgot what today was, and I just remembered,” you
sorrowfully confessed
I remember that I, too, did not realize it was our tenth anniversary
until you reminded me
there are 365 days in a year, and an anniversary should
be celebrated
especially a tenth anniversary
but when two people love the way we do every day, it’s
so easy to forget…
-Kim Johnson
My Daughter
baby girl, 7 pounds, 14 ounces
beautiful, smart, third year art student
the devil took you to the hell of
heroin, meth, and homelessness
tinted your windows with glassy eyes
tilted your world with blurred perception
traded your baby for needles and pills
through it all, your mother prayed daily
and every time the phone rang: please not the morgue, please bring her back
but a call came
an arrest – hope!
an empty shell huddled in a cell, finally broken enough, willing to try living again
a reformative 9-month womb: the Bethany House
God performed another Technicolor miracle
righted your ship, focused your lens, restored your soul
I praise Him for re-gifting you, even better than before
and pray especially for the many still lurking in the shadows
– Kim Johnson
Common Threads 
Johnson Funny Farm Peepers
Peepers on the Funny Farm
Bantam, Ameraucana,
Australorp, and Orpington
Asian Black and Dominique
Rhode Island Red and Leghorn
preening, prattling pullets
steering clear of Chanticleer
footloose biddies rue the coop
moody brooders rule the roost
free-range fowl feed family
breakfast-supper meals each week
scrumptious eggs from scrambled breeds
feathered personalities
entertain, to say the least
much like people, yes indeed