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Truth

Anna Roseboro challenged us to write a 20/20 poem – something that wasn’t clear last year that is clear this year, in only 20 words. 

Truth 

I thought I knew the culprit.
But then the truth came clear.
Like a cockroach skittering away from
the light.

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Anagram Poem

 

Anna Small Rosewood inspired my writing group to write Anagram poems using words formed from letters in our names today. I decided to take snippets of the Haikus I’ve written this week during my fall break travels and combine each day into a character’s journal (I am the “character”) as a primary source document. 

Kimberly Haynes Johnson

Salem, home, shore, Bearskin, one, sea, joy, sail, shore, air, early, on, skim, Amie’s, Ann, she, rose, line, makes 

Day 1 Rockport Walk 

early morning walk
in Rockport, Massachusetts 
streets of Bearskin Neck

waves crash on sea wall
breakfasting gulls skim the shore
sunrise fish morsels 

lobster fisherman
revving up Amie’s engine 
moored at Tuna Wharf

coastal New England
autumn splendor holds such charms
travelers revel 

Day 2 – Salem Tour

Uber to Salem
Witch Museum, history
witch hunts still exist 

Day 3 – Sea glass Search

sunrise sea glass search 
surfside, seeking shattered shards
seaside souvenirs 

Day 4 – Whales, Music

Cape Ann Whale Watching
gentle giants of the sea
Oh, look! Thar she blows! 

tribal drums, cello
hand-carved rosewood balafon 
electric guitar 

bluegrass, funk, rock-fused
traditional African 
unexpected joy! 

Day 5 – Freedom Trail

City View trolley
much too tired to walk the line
where it all began 

travel is fun, but
coming home is part of what
makes the adventure! 

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World Music

 


World Music

tribal drums, cello

hand-carved rosewood balafon 

electric guitar 
bluegrass, funk, rock-fused
traditional West African 
unexpected joy! 


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Flutters from Heaven

 

As I searched for seaglass this morning, I was reminded of my mother’s love of angel wings, shells joined together in the shape of wings. “No way,” I thought when I hoped to find a pair, because the rocks would have crushed them. But how wonderful would it be to have a hello from Mom in heaven?! Then I stepped down onto the shore of White Wharf, and there she spoke! She was listening…..

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Rockport Walk

 

Rockport Walk 

early morning walk

in Rockport, Massachusetts 
streets of Bearskin Neck
waves crash on sea wall
breakfasting gulls skim the surf
sunrise fish morsels 
lobster fisherman
revving up Amie’s engine 
moored at Tuna Wharf
coastal New England
autumn splendor holds such charms
travelers revel 
 


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Witch Pranks

 

Witch Pranks

When a witch at night goes 

walking with a witch, at times 
a black cat will appear and a
witch will pretend not to know. A witch 
will try not to cackle but will 
turn her head to not seem 
suddenly to be privy to pranks
and in looking serious will struggle to pretend she’s at peace against truth. 
To keep her promise to an elder, she’ll 
look at her own shadow, unknown 
at dark, an image she’ll force into something lionish in appearance, stronger than 
very evil spells, a prank funnier than a small cat in a window, then reveal herself! 
A triple golden shovel poem using three vertical lines from Elizabeth Willis’s “The Witch”


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The Spell Shelf

 

The Spell Shelf 

An injustice causes an 

unrepentant wife to use overwhelming 
witch potions as a power that 
may cripple a cheater, compels her to 
be in control of her 
“converted” husband, to treat him 
with his own golden rule, to take 
a voodoo stab at “something 
little,” then heft a blow from a 
lead pipe and hold a lit match 
in dead places once rich with desire… 
the Foster’s Effect of a man’s roving  
eye are punished from the spell shelf…
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Frog Tea

 


Frog Tea 

A double golden shovel poem using two vertically written lines from Elizabeth Willis’s “The Witch”
A fellow traveler and I visited a 
witch to have frog tea… I 
will tell you the oracles we heard:
gaze at a past of 
wistfully longing but a future 
at taking your poor outlook to 
the dump. Become a woman of 
glitter by changing the present 
of today. A woman herself makes 
a difference by looking into a 
clear yellow owl’s eye on a dark 
night. Never trust a pigeon.