© Carl Martin Johnson, All rights reserved

 

THE BEAUTY THAT MEN DO
By Carl Martin Johnson

The beauty that men do
Shows we have a soul.
It is why we seek what’s true,
Why perfection is our goal.

We are like no other being.
We have potential to be great.
In the future I am seeing,
We have a Divine fate.

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AMBUSH SERENADE
By Carl Martin Johnson

The songbird sang soft to me,
Heralding the dawn
Innocent to what would be.
The bloody mission I was on.

Had he known why I was there,
That my purpose was to kill,
His song, sung sweet and clear,
Would change to harsh and shrill.

I could not hear the enemy creep
Over the morn song of that bird.
And, when the bayonet cut deep,
It was the last sound that I heard.

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DANCE WILD
By Carl Martin Johnson

Dance wild beneath the sun.
Spin with joy under the sky.
Make your life fully done.
Live hard until you die.

Don’t chew, but swallow whole,
All love that comes your way.
Grow your immortal soul,
For none of us can stay.

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YOUR TREMBLING BODY
By Carl Martin Johnson

I feel your body trembling hot,
Burning with desire.
Your breasts willing, firm and taught.
You burn me with your fire.

Your claws rake down my back,
Slicing lines of scarlet.
Like a tigress on attack,
A hungry, raging harlot.

Soon your lust I’ll sate,
Cool your fiery heat.
Like animals we’ll mate,
Making our love complete.

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THE MOUNTAINTOP
By Carl Martin Johnson

I stood high on the mountaintop.
Looked down on the world below.
I felt life would never stop.
In my veins I felt it flow.

Had Fate’s strong winds not found me,
I would be there still.
But hard gusts unbound me,
And blew me from that hill.

I tumbled to the earth
Into the world of tooth and claw.
‘Twas only then I had real birth.
Was involved in what I saw.

As in the blood I fought
To keep whole and survive,
I found what I had sought
What it meant to be alive.

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WORDS, COME HEAL ME
By Carl Martin Johnson

Words, come heal my heart.
Tell me what to do.
Please grant me a fresh start
In the arms of a love that’s true.

I feel my sad heart breaking.
She took me by surprise.
My wounded soul she’s taking.
Driving hot tears from my eyes.

I pray with time I’ll heal,
That love will come again.
Next time itwordsw will be real,
And a new life will begin.

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LITTLE SPARK
By Carl Martin Johnson

I’ll find you, Little Spark.
Don’t think you can hide
Within me where it’s dark.
I know you’re there inside.

I will blow you to a flame,
And from that flame wildfire.
From the great Star whence you came,
Create my Being’s pyre.

You will warm me with your cheer,
Bless me with your light.
We’ll make living dear.
Our existence a delight.

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THE SOLDIER’S LETTER
By Carl Martin Johnson

He held the letter tight.
It was spattered with his blood.
He had not survived the fight,
Now lay lifeless in the mud.

Yet a smile was on his face,
Warm, though it was frozen.
What thought did he embrace
When he became Death’s chosen?

I unpried the cold, clamped fingers.
Maybe the note would give a clue
To the memory that lingers,
That death could not undo.

Most of the writing was obscured.
Crimson covered and dried.
I prayed he had endured
To read the script inside.

“Dear Charlie”, it began
After that, much was hidden.
Then “I’ll see you when I can.
I don’t care if I’m forbidden.”

“My darling, don’t you die.
I will be here waiting.
Every day I will cry,
Until we’re celebrating.”

“I will count the days.
My love gets ever stronger.”
But the way this damn war plays,
She’ll have to wait much longer.

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LOOK NOW
By Carl Martin Johnson

 

Look now, do you see me?
I am just like you.
Close your eyes and be me.
You will know it’s true.

 

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HEARTSTRINGS
By Carl Martin Johnson

Pluck gently at my heartstrings.
Play softly with my heart.
I know the grief that love brings.
Perhaps best not to start.

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DID I HEAR GOD LAUGH
By Carl Martin Johnson

Was that God’s laugh I heard?
It was a mighty sound.
I was searching for a word,
But my mind had run aground.

Yet the tone was kind.
A gentle, rumbling thunder.
He sees into my mind,
Is tolerant of my wonder.

He knows the way I pray
Is through verses, poor they be.
They are the only way
I can bring Him close to me.

His mirth was sweet and mild,
Not to demean or humble.
Like a father to his child.
A loving sort of rumble.

Indeed, it made me smile.
I felt Him there behind me.
It made me warm a while
That He took time to find me.


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WHAT I'VE DONE IS DONE
By Carl Martin Johnson

What I’ve done is done.
What has passed is past.
Of all I have begun,
Only memories will last.

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GHOSTS ON THE DAWN WIND
By Carl Martin Johnson

Ghosts fly on fresh dawn wind,
Spirits happy to be free
Mortal limits at an end,
Now unchained in eternity.

They kiss me in elation,
Whispering praises of their state,
Inviting me to the celebration,
But I tell them I must wait.

 

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SOMETIMES THERE IS NO WORD
By Carl Martin Johnson

Sometimes there is no word,
No poetry that will do,
Nothing that can be heard
That tells a heart what’s true.

Then the soul must speak
To send forth your meaning,
The messaging you seek
Without words intervening.

Communication pure
Unimpeded by the tongue,
And the clean thought will endure
En route from whence it sprung.

Language inhibits understanding.
Words are unworthy tools
Whose use remains commanding
Only for we poet fools.

 

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NIGHT FALLS IN COLORS
By Carl Martin Johnson

Night falls soft in colors bright,
Guiding me to dream,
Bringing joy through my mind’s sight,
My sleeping thoughts agleam.

Vivid fantasies excite me,
Entertain me ‘til the dawn.
Glowing scenes invite me.
All my sorrows gone.

And they linger through the day,
Painting life with pure delight.
Giving cheer as I make my way
To another brilliant night.

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FEARING LIFE
By Carl Martin Johnson

Is life a thing to fear
Because it has an ending?
Or can we hold it dear,
No matter what’s impending?

We know that we are mortal,
The only animal so aware.
We all pass through death’s portal,
Yet unsure as to where.

Is it a curse or unique blessing
To have this path unsure,
To exist in fearful guessing,
All hours waking to endure?

We can also see a Light,
We have knowledge of a soul.
And fully in our sight
Is a higher human goal.

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GRANT ME TO BE KIND
By Carl Martin Johnson

Grant me to be kind.
Let self be not my goal.
May happiness I find
In the sharing of my soul.

I am full part of others.
They are part of me.
All are my sisters and my brothers
Throughout eternity.

Let me not cause them harm
In body or in soul,
Let me keep love for them warm.
We are one being…we are whole.

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ONLY ME
By Carl Martin Johnson

Am I a world unique?
Are there others of my kind?
Should I stop and seek?
If I look what will I find?

If I am alone,
I pray I’ll not be lonely.
Some things are best unknown,
Revealed to poets only.

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SOMEONE TO HOLD ME
By Carl Martin Johnson

I need someone to hold me,
To take me in her arms,
With her love enfold me,
Make me feel her charms.

She’ll soothe me when I’m lonely,
Warm me when I’m cold,
She’ll say she loves me only.
Together we’ll grow old.

I’ll love strong in return.
I will be true and caring.
Every gentle kiss I’ll earn.
And all my life be sharing.

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MORNING SUN
By Carl Martin Johnson

The morning sun drives into me,
Burning dark thoughts from my heart.
Bright golden rays renew me.
All sad images depart.

Spreading happiness I feel,
The glow within me growing.
The joy it brings is real.
I cannot help it showing.

From sunbeams my love springs,
My affection spreading ‘round.
And aloud my glad heart sings
For the wonder I have found.
 
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THE LAST FLOWER
By Carl Martin Johnson

She was the last bloom in the field,
But she stood tall and proud.
To Death’s season she’d not yield
Her orange petals, brash and loud.

To Summer she held on
When her sisters could not last.
She refused still to be gone.
To sweet Life she held fast.

Yet one day she would fall.
She would shed her plumage brave.
Though she’d be the last of all
To submit to Winter’s grave.

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THE BEING INSIDE OF ME
By Carl Martin Johnson

Inside me there’s a Being,
One that makes me whole.
One that no one’s seeing.
One I call my soul.

My soul is the true me,
The me that will live on.
And all the world that knows me
Will still feel me when I’m gone.

My spirit will roam free
When at last I see God’s face.
And the soul that’s really me,
Will all of you embrace.

 

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TODAY'S A DAY OF CHEER
By Carl Martin Johnson

Today’s a day of cheer,
And so will be tomorrow.
I’ll hold all Mankind dear.
I’ll write away their sorrow.

 

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I FOUND A WONDERFUL LINE OF VERSE
By Carl Martin Johnson

I found a wondrous line,
Who wrote it I don’t know.
I wish that it were mine,
But that doesn’t make it so.

Sweet music every word,
Soothing my troubled mind,
Felt, rather than heard,
A truly treasured find.

If I really try,
I will write like that one day.
I pray, before I die,
Worthy words will come my way.

 

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MY VERSES ARE FOOL'S CRYING
By Carl Martin Johnson

My verses are fool’s crying,
Sounds wasted in the wind,
Seeking knowing before dying,
But that comes only at the end.

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LONG TIME COMING
By Carl Martin Johnson

Today’s been a long time coming.
One chance, then long time gone.
I hear the battle march drumming,
Bringing a wondrous dawn.

A grand thing will be done.
I feel the strength within.
A great victory will be won,
But this day will not come again.

I am ready for the test.
It will not find me shy.
This day will be my best,
Until the day I die.

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LIFE IS WORTH THE PAIN
By Carl Martin Johnson

Life is worth the pain,
The hardship and the sorrow.
I think I will remain.
God gives us all tomorrow.

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THE HORROR IN MY EYES
By Carl Martin Johnson

Did you see it, friend,
The horror in my eyes?
Did you know it was the end?
Did it take you by surprise?

I thought it would be me
Dead in that stinking mud.
It was my life I could see
Flying off for good.

Your bayonet grazed my ear.
Your spit sprayed my lips.
Then I pulled my knife to spear,
And you drank blood in bubbly sips.

I held you close and tight
While my blade released your sigh.
I’m sorry we had to fight.
I hate you had to die.

Soon one of you will kill me,
Leave me bleeding out and crying.
The horror in my eyes he’ll see
Will be the terror of my dying.

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MY FAVORITE COLOR
By Carl Martin Johnson

My favorite color is the dawn.
By it I know I’m living.
It paints the world to carry on
With the gifts that Life is giving.

One morn that hue will not appear.
Then I’ll be here no longer.
And I, who held this life so dear,
Will see a palette even stronger.

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