A
Torn Moment...
Welcome
Serendipity
Squirrel Calls
If Only...
A
Torn Moment... home
by Jane
Johnson
June 25, 2000
A Torn Moment
Do you hear the roar
the motorbike makes
As it rips Time apart
in our day?
It separates Future
from all of our Past
As it unzips our hearts
on its way
It stops conversation
and communication,
Makes thoughts pause
and flicker, wink out...
It demolishes dreams
and is not what it seems
It's the Trump Call,
the last Angel's shout
Then, silence in Heaven
for half an hour
For a season, an Aeon,
thought stills...
Just for a second
Eternity beckons
Enlightenment opens,
heart fills...
Then up starts the chatter,
the noise and the clatter
The World resumes,
waking once more
Threads of thought shatter,
they no longer matter
For nothing's as
it was before...
Welcome
home
by Jane
Johnson
June 24, 2000
Welcome
In the deep sea-spaces of the womb
Before Time began
There is no sun, but Light
Swathes round the form
An Old Soul swims, eyes closed, hands
Folded in prayer
In peace and rapture, waiting
To be born
In trust, and knowing Life
Empowers her own,
A welcome waits, but yet
No welcome known
In perfect peace, pregnant potential
Pervades the womb
A new Old Soul floats, hands
Folded in prayer
Before the Tapestry of Life
Is set to loom
Before the hurly burly breath
Of first raw air
In trust, and knowing Life
Empowers her own,
A welcome waits, but yet
No welcome known
By Jane Johnson,
copyright 2000
Serendipity
home
by Jane
Johnson
June 24, 2000
Serendipity
You are out early,
walking the dog,
and wondering
what to make for breakfast,
when suddenly
something comes along
to remind you that
YOU
are one of Life's
limitless collections
of miracles,
existing in probability
clause one,
two, three,
or infinity.
Maybe there is nothing.
Maybe a dewdrop is held
at the tip of a leaf,
the world shining
in its single eye,
and is then,
finally, let go...
And in that moment
of reflected heaven,
a thousand worlds collide
and are splashed, unseen,
onto the grass below.
The 'lightness of being'
that takes your step,
transformed from
shuffle to skiffle,
from stance to dance,
lifts your arms,
your head, your heart;
you sway, feeling yourself
stretching up to the sky,
suspended and hanging down
to the ground,
sky beneath
your uplifted feet,
hardly reaching
the earth...
And a daydream
from childhood
is, for a moment,
given birth,
as you really feel,
your dream revealed,
that should you try,
there's no reason why,
you might not just
for a moment fly...
Yet,
moving three inches above
the surface of the grass
that hardly bends its head
as your feet float past,
your arms, beating and pulsing
like swan's wings,
shed rainbows
and flowers flow,
landing star flung,
seed sprung,
on the places where you pass.
The diamonds and pearls
of dawn dew drops sparkle,
twinkle, sprinkled
with colours and
coruscating fire,
and in an infinitesimal moment,
your eyes gape wide,
your heart aflame,
then close in bliss,
as you feel
your heart's desire...
Oh, you breathe,
have I landed in heaven?
Or is this but a dream?
Is this May magic?
A glimpse of Faerie
for the fey?
A parallel world,
a glance afforded children,
storytellers, and poets,
not meant
for the solid beams of day?
Jane Johnson
Copyright May 2000
Squirrel
Calls home
by Jane
Johnson
June 7, 2000
Squirrel calls..
Mutterings and chatterings
Pitterings and patterings
Flicks and flecks of
Fluffy feathery tails
Hurryings and scurryings
Ferryings and worryings
Squawks and squeaks,
Echoes of querulous squeals
They're burying their nuts again
Just like they did in way back when
Remembering Novembering is
Where their feather-brain fails
So they squawk and squat and excavate
A square of ground they demarcate
Under leaves shed deep
From frequent autumn gales
Nibbling and swallowing
Squirreling and quarreling
They feast before the frost
And sudden squalls
For soon enough to hibernate
Ravening hunger as they wake
It's a miracle
A squirrel calls at all
Jane Johnson c.1998
If
Only... home
by Jane
Johnson
May 20, 2000
If Only...
If only you could know youth for it's power
The gift to sit and waste away an hour
If only you could see how strong you are
You can outstrip your elders, travel far..
If only you could see that vast potential -
Far huger than the goals that we've achieved
for ours is dressed in parcels compartmental,
Yet yours a vista, endless, to be believed
If only you could see how truly graceful
Are appreciation, awe, and pleasure too
To recognise those supreme gifts in others..
Which yet await discovery in you
Sweet child, your life's ahead, yet ours is passing
And ever swifter march encroaching years
What if some here have already lit a beacon,
It's only so you'll step free of your fears
Discovering the Joy, within those tears..
c. Jane Johnson 2000