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Trip Johnson Poem
"Little Squirrel"
I hear the chatter,
I hear the whirl.
I hear the noise,
of the intruding squirrel.
The damage isn't slight,
and I hope they don't bite.
Something must be done,
or else they have won.
So what can I do,
how can I win.
If I do nothing,
they'll come back again.
I don't want to hurt them,
don't want them to suffer.
I just don't want them,
to come here for supper.
I could leave them a trail,
of nuts to my neighbor.
But how do I know,
they won't come back later.
I like squirrels until they come in,
so I'll keep on trying until I win.
By
Trip Johnson
Copyright © Trip Johnson | Year Posted 2011
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Trip Johnson Poem
"Music of the Woods"
Morning sun shine,
through branches of trees.
Fog on the pond whirling,
with red maple leaves.
Whirling and dancing,
to music of the woods.
Slight smell of bacon,
in brisk morning breeze.
Small rippled waves tapping on shore,
tapping tapping then tapping some more.
The call of a Loon majestic and pure,
this is a spot that I hold very dear.
Natures symphony soothing the ear,
draws me back to this place every year.
By
Trip Johnson
Copyright © Trip Johnson | Year Posted 2011
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Trip Johnson Poem
"It's all up to me"
There are so many things to write about,
it boggles my mind without a doubt.
I could write about love, with caring and glee,
with great emotion, it's all up to me.
I could write about pain, with anger and sorrow,
with the hope that I'll have a better tomorrow.
I could write about death, with grief and despair,
where I'll go when I die, and when I'll get there.
I could write about life, what a marvelous thing,
about flowers and birds, that perch their and sing.
I could write about writing,
now that would be exciting.
All the things I could write about,
gives me an urge to stand up and shout.
Writing simply sets me free,
and whatever I write is all up to me.
By
Trip Johnson
Copyright © Trip Johnson | Year Posted 2011
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Trip Johnson Poem
"My chair"
It glides and rocks,
and spins galore.
It gives great comfort,
to me and my bones.
And it fits quite nicely,
by the window near the door.
If my chair ever had a few words to say,
it would probably tell me to sit there all day.
Just sit there all day,
to glide rock and spin.
Don't look at the clock,
just spin glide and rock.
It gives me spare change,
and holds my remote.
It doesn't need much of anything at all,
except small repairs from hitting the wall.
I tell my daughter not to spin so fast,
not to rock too hard or my chair won't last.
But you know how kids are,
and the minute you leave.
The spinning starts over,
when she knows that I'm gone.
She must spin real fast,
it's a contest you see.
To set a new world record,
get her name in the book.
Only to stop when I give her that look.
By
Trip Johnson
Copyright © Trip Johnson | Year Posted 2011
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Trip Johnson Poem
"Thanks"
Thank you toes,
for keeping the balance,
with your wiggling abilities,
and all of your talents.
Thank you feet,
for doing your share.
while your locked up all day,
it doesn't seem fair.
Thank you legs,
for keeping me tall,
for keeing me stable,
so I don't fall.
Thank you arms,
tan from the sun,
for all you have endured,
for all you have done.
Thank you hands,
your both unreal,
with your sense of touch
and your sense of feel.
Thank you stomach,
for being so brave,
from what mouth took in,
but should have saved.
Thank you brain,
for connecting with them,
for guiding them through,
my hat's off to you.
By
Trip Johnson
Copyright © Trip Johnson | Year Posted 2011
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Trip Johnson Poem
"A few simple words"
In a moment I was born,
In a moment I'll die.
I looked up to a face,
and asked him why.
He told me we're here,
for a short time to live.
To be caring and loving,
and raise up our kids.
To try to do good,
however we can.
To pick yourself up,
when you've been kicked down.
To Wipe yourself off,
keep your feet on the ground.
To do your very best,
the very best you can do.
Is all I'll ever expect of you.
By
Trip Johnson
Copyright © Trip Johnson | Year Posted 2011
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