My fingers trace your landscape
From neck to thigh,
Your back a rolling plain
In the image of Gaia.
You are the Mother in microcosm.
I am the all-encompassing Aleph.
Electric shivers when we touch
Wake passion in the bones of the world.
— Stace Johnson, 2004
New buds sprout from stems
Mountain runoff swells the streams
I drown in your eyes
Sunbeams radiate
Grasses grow, lush green, breeze blown
I bask in your warmth
Forest paths wear moist
Leafy blankets; chill air blows
I feel your fall frost
Air itself crackles
Bare trees hold empty bird nests
I mourn the love lost
— Stace Johnson, 2003
This poem appeared on the now defunct RomanticShortLoveStories.com website in January 2006.
for Lannette
The milky Goddess, Arianrhod, guides
Her silver chariot across the sky
Her strength affecting more than just the tides.
Why she should shine on me, I know not why.
She welcomes me inside her castle wall,
Where incense burns and candles banish gloom.
She leads me in between her turrets tall
And through the halls into her secret room.
It’s there I learn that Arianrhod weeps;
The Goddess and her past are battling.
The damage done by men before me keeps
Her soul from feeling safe enough to sing.
Although I am no hero among men,
I hope to help the Goddess sing again.
— Stace Johnson, 2003
“Arianrhod” image © 1990 by Jen Delyth, used with the artist’s gracious permission. Please visit www.kelticdesigns.com to learn more about Jen and her art.
This poem appeared on the now defunct RomanticShortLoveStories.com website in January 2006.
(after Robert Frost)
Whose words these are, I think I know.
She couldn’t bear to speak them, though.
Instead, she let me find them here,
And she departed with the snow.
My friends will likely find it queer
To see me walk without her near
Down to the park and by the lake
Where I proposed to her last year.
The hands that hold her missive shake.
I’m sure there must be some mistake.
Her graceful letters swirl and sweep
As whirling winds would toss a flake.
My heart is lonely, dark and deep,
But I have only words to keep
And memories plague my fitful sleep,
And memories plague my fitful sleep.
— Stace Johnson, 2002
(Please take the time to read Frost’s original poems,
“Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” at
www.favoritepoem.org and “The Road Not Taken” at
www.bartleby.com)
They lie in bed, back to back,
Together yet apart
The only sound is the
Drip
Drip
Drip
Of their love seeping away,
Mixing with the dirt in the floorboard cracks.
Each wonders what happened;
Where did the “us” go?
But they don’t discuss it.
That would be too much like
Communication.
— Stace Johnson, 2002
This poem appeared on the now defunct RomanticShortLoveStories.com website in January 2006.
