Bonnie's prose and poetry page

At Sullivans Cafe (a villanelle)

2007-03-22T12:38:00.000-05:00

At Sullivans Café (villanelle)

Remember sitting around the table,
Hanging out at Sullivans Cafe,
You and John and Victoria and me?

We'd talk of politics and war.
What we would do to save the world,
Remember sitting around the table?

Our voices rose in excitement
The drinks flowed fast and free,
You and John and Victoria and me.

Sometimes others joined in with us.
Opinions argued debated free,
Remember sitting around the table?

We didn’t always agree on things.
But the friendship remained true,
You and John and Victoria and me.

Time moved on. Now we're fifty something,
John passed away but still with us even now.
Remember sitting around the table,
You and John and Victoria and me?

Prayers

2007-03-22T12:37:00.000-05:00

PRAYERS

You say you will pray for me
Because I attend no church
That I have no god to save me
No hope for eternal life.

I say my church is the mother earth
Who nourishes our bodies and souls,
With food and water,
With the sun and moon.

My prayers are the songs of the bird,
The rain drops that feed the earth,
The chirps of the crickets at night,
The sound of a baby’s first cry.

My salvation is the wing of the bird
As it flies across the blue white skies
It is in the fire of the sun
That warms our earth each day.

My soul is hope, my prayer is peace,
My salvation is love for the human race,
My prayer is that mother earth will
Continue to care for us even while we destroy her.

Erin Go Bragh

2007-03-22T12:36:00.000-05:00

Erin Go Bragh

My mother wasn’t born in Ireland,
But Ireland is in her blood,
The legacy of her father,
And his father before him.

The songs of Ireland were shared,
My youth shaped by graceful lyrics,
Lilting notes of lullabies,
As me mother sang me off to sleep.

(sing)
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, hush now, don't you cry!
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, that's an Irish lullaby."

And the melancholy melodies,
Would fill the Irish heart.
Yet their lilting laughter,
Could lift you and carry you away.

Ah, yes, the Irish have the fighting spirit,
Yet, the drink moves them to sing,
Of Kilgary Mountain or Lanigans ball,
With a song in their heart and tear drop in their eye.

(sing)
When Irish eyes are laughing
All the world seems bright and gay,
And when Irish eyes are crying,
Sure, they steal your heart away.

But, aye, they could dance
The Irish jig to hearty tunes,
While the penny whistle bands,
Kept their feet a-flying high.

And, aye, the Irish are sentimental,
For their hearts are soft and pure,
As they sing of Kilkarney,
Or Cockles and muscles alive alive-0.

(sing)
In Dublin's fair city, where the girls are so pretty
I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone
As she wheeled her wheel-barrow
Through streets broad and narrow
Crying cockles and mussels, alive, alive-O!
Alive, alive-O! alive, alive-O!

The wild thyme so precious and rare,
Fills the air with scents so sweet,
And the rocky road to Dublin,
Leads you home again.

The mountains of Irish heather,
Surrounded by meadows of green,
The homeland of my ancestors,
Now does call to me.

Erin go Bragh

Duct Tape

2007-02-24T09:59:00.001-05:00

Duct Tape by Bonnie Johnson - 02/07

When the water hose broke,
She didn’t panic,
Knew just what to do,
Duct tape fixes everything she said.

She never worried
Duct tape sticks to everything,
Even mends a rip in a
Car seat a child put there.

As her life slowly fell apart,
She knew how to fix what broke,
The pipe under the kitchen sink,
Duct tape fixes everything she said.

Her husband never noticed,
When she went into her own world,
As long as dinner was done,
He just didn’t care.

The washing machine leaked,
But not for long,
Out came her trusty roll,
Duct tape fixes everything she said.

Some days her world would spin,
Circles around her mind,
Leaving her dizzy and lost,
Reality too much to bear.

A lose attachement on the tv,
The picture lost in snow and fuzz,
She made it right again,
Duct tape fixes everything she said.

As the connections in her brain,
Began to short and fail her,
No one paid attention as she,
Spun further from control.

When anything got broken,
They brought it to her to fix,
They knew she could do it,
Duct tape fixes everything she said.

The children would scream,
Demand their own way,
Quietly she would let her mind
Take her to a world far away.

And if they broke a toy,
Or ripped a book,
She could fix it all,
Duct tape fixes everything she said.

Even as her mind began to crack,
At times failed her completely,
Leaving her confused
She knew what to do.

When her mind finally broke,
She looked at me blankly
As they took her away,
Duct tape fixes everything she said.

The Power of Love

2007-02-24T09:57:00.000-05:00

The Power of Love by Bonnie Johnson - Feb. 2007

He told me, if he died first, he would come back for me.
I would laugh and tell him
I’d believe it when it happened.
I have learned now to never doubt the power of love.

On March 24th one of my cats passed away
On March 27th I had a dream that my cat was crying
I had to find him. When I found the cat
He turned into my best friend, Rick.

He was lying there crying. He said he was sorry.
I woke up and later that morning
Received a call from his wife.
Rick had passed away in the night.

He told me he would come back for me
and I laughed. Never doubt the power of love.
That night Rick came to me in my dreams
He told me he was taking me with him.

After a forty-two year relationship
Where we would vacillate between lovers
And friends, he couldn’t go on
Into the after life with out me.

He put me on a bike and had me
Riding down a mountain pass.
He watched on as a truck plowed
Down the mountain, out of control,

It headed right towards me.
At the last second I was able to jump
Off the bike out of the path of the truck.
But he wouldn’t give up.

He wasn’t ready to let me out of his life.
Even if it was the after-life.
I found myself back on the mountain pass,
But this time with a group of people protesting.

I was never quite sure what
We were protesting, but there he sat,
In his wheelchair watching and waiting.
A fire broke out in the trees around us

It quickly worked its way to the mountain pass.
I ran and ran! My legs moved faster
Than I ever thought they could.
I literally ran for my life.

Then I was off the mountain
I found myself in a building.
He told me to follow him.
We could be together forever.

Taking me to a window I looked out.
I realized we were very high above a city.
I could barely make out the traffic below.
“Follow me,” he said. “It’s safe. You can do it.”

Then he rolled out the window and was gone.
I backed away quickly and woke up.
But it was over for the night.
I felt he had been given three tries

To get me to go and then he had
To leave without me.
He was sad I hadn’t chosen to go with him,
I told him I would join him when my time came.

Until then he could visit in my dreams
Whenever he chose if he agreed to never try
To take me before my time again.
He has chosen to visit and mostly

We play guitars and sing old songs.
We remember the happier times of our youth.
He told me if he died first he would come back for me.
I have learned to never doubt the power of love.

My Poems

2007-01-18T23:01:00.000-05:00

These are the poems I shared at open mic tonight. I am working on a second book of poems, for publication, and this will be the lead in poem.

My Poems

I am not a prolific poet,
Each poem is a labor of love
Each is like a child to me
Wondering from the conception
Will it be born perfect
Or will it be like me, flawed and imperfect.
Some say the pain is in holding
The poem inside until they can
Put the words in print and read them out loud.
For me the pain is baring myself naked,
Letting my feelings stand defenseless
Before you to be embraced or rejected.
Each word, each line, each stanza,
Struggles to be born.
Inside the words are soft and hushed,
But in black ink on white paper
They are stark and vulnerable at once.
Now they are no longer images
Hiding, snuggled in my thoughts,
But words, real words representing
What hides innermost in me
And I am not ready yet to expose
Myself, to stand naked before you,
There are some things that should
Remain private, remain mine alone.
They are my treasures, my gems,
They are my alms, my gifts,
To hold close and cherish
And share when the time is right.
These are my children,
My labors of love,
These are my poems.

This is the poem I wrote to welcome in 2007.

Happy New Year?

A new year has dawned
And I can only wonder
What have we done to
Change the world for the better?

Have we accomplished peace?
Ended hunger? Ended hatred?
Or did we once again
Leave a bloodstained legacy?

The year ended and another
Began leaving us immersed
In what was and
What we hope will be.

Now we must each
Look into our hearts
Into our souls to find
A new promise of hope.

Did we learn our lesson
As the sun lay dying?
The bitter cold of life
Stilling us from moving forward.

Perhaps we should not wish
Such futile words as
Happy New Year when
No hope endures within.

Are they more than cheap wishes?
Or a substitute for the truth?
Are they merely nice words
We speak hoping they’ll come true?

Yes, a new year has begun,
And we will pay the price for hope,
With lives lost and dreams destroyed
My country tis of the sweet land of liberty

Of thee we sing poised on the future
Imprisoned by the past
The years turn with hypnotic grace,
We wait to see what fate will bring.

Love Means Nothing

As a young girl reading
The romance novels found
Hidden under my mothers
Bed or on the closet shelf

I thought love must be
Found through ribbons
Pulled from hair too
Tightly pulled back

Or ripped bodices
When rough manly
Hands turned your anger
Into a passionate kiss

That later you would
Try to pretend didn’t happen
Because after all he was
The villain in the story.

And you the poor young
Heroine who in the end
Would triumph over defeat
And win the love of a

Gallant and true gentleman.
Of course, later you would
Find the one you reviled
Was the lord of the manor

And you would feel betrayed
That he had led you on,
In the end though he would
Prevail and win your heart

While you protested your love
For him but then you
You and he would embrace
And walk off into the sunset together.

But, as I grew older I understood
Those were the fantasies of
Frustrated housewives who dreamt
Of bare-chested heroes rescuing them.
From their lives of boredom
And that in reality love is
Nothing more than caring, giving
Accepting that no one is perfect

That love is not violent,
Has nothing to do with money,
Bare chests, ribbons,
Or ripped bodices.

The reality is that real love is
Often not fair or returned
But still worth the effort to
Pursue and cherish when found.

And to fill in some time while Karleigh worked on getting the individual line poem together I read the following - a bit strange but...

Cat Dreams

In my dream or state of dream
The cats lead me to a strange,
Dark abandoned place where
Lions and rhinos live behind

A fence of barbed wire and chain
There is no escape up the wall
Of stone and I stand and face
Them head on – eye to eye

They back down and move
To let me see the secret that
They guard so loyally
A secret that ought not be shared.

I am tired, travel weary,
Worn from exhausted flight,
Wanting only for the dream to end
And peaceful sleep to come to me.

But the secret waits and I must see
With eyes that will not lie
I approach them ever closer
Fearing not their horn and claws

Soon it will be mine to hold
To share or keep as see fit
With excitement I move closer still
Anticipating the knowledge held

Secret within their strange domain.
But as I am within range of owning
This secret held so dear
The alarm awakens me and pulls

Me into an awakened state
Where stark reality awaits.
There is no secret waiting,
No magical light does shine.

Just the cats sitting, staring,
Demanding to be fed,
Wanting me to either pet them
Or get my butt up out of bed!

Ein Bahn Strasse

2006-11-18T07:32:00.000-05:00

Ein Bahn Strasse

You call shortly after your son is born,
Except for your young husband,
You are alone in a foreign country,
Will I come for a visit?

I ask my boss for two weeks off,
February is my birthday month,
He’s from Germany, he gives me a month
Tells me two weeks is not enough.

On the ride from Frankfurt to Weisbaden,
We have time to catch up,
To talk of the family, giggle,
And just enjoy being together again.

Reminiscent of our walks around Erie, PA
We walk the streets of Weisbaden,
The baby in a backpack, we experience the city,
Your son sleeps, his head nestled on your back.

It’s so different from home, yet so familiar.
Houses built against each other,
No room for backyards or swing sets,
The buildings old yet beautiful.

The air is cold and bitter,
We sip strong hot coffee,
Our cheeks are rosy from the cold,
We laugh and walk and talk.

Die baby’s Kalte one woman says,
I touch his cheek warm from sleep,
He’s bundled in the back pack,
The knit hat you made him on his head.

We sample the dark German chocolates,
Take turns carrying your son,
We walk until we’re exhausted,
“I think we’re lost,” you say.

“No, we can’t be,” I tell you,
“We’ve been on the same street.”
“What’s the name of it?” you ask
“Ein Bahn Strasse.” I reply.

You laugh, “We’re lost,” you say.
That means one way street!
We both laugh, ask directions,
Find our way back to your apartment.

The month passes too quickly,
I find myself at the airport,
Announcements come in a language,
I still don’t understand.

You stand there alone,
In a foreign country,
Surrounded by strangers,
Your son sleeps, his head nestled on your back.

Twixt the Waxing and the Waning

2006-10-20T09:39:00.000-05:00

TWIXT THE WAXING AND THE WANING

Twixt the waxing and the waning,
The moon quarters, halves,
Then once full tis time for
Spirits to dance upon the night.

Keep watch! Keep silent!
Fear not but do not speak,
Do not let them know you watch,
As they dance upon the night.

For ye will see what mortals,
Dare not admit exist,
The magic of the mystical,
As they dance upon the night.

As spirits speak though they are dead,
And cast spells upon the earth,
Beware the spells don’t land on you,
As they dance upon the night.

Incantations ye shall hear,
Words you will not understand,
Be careful ye don’t speak the words,
As they dance upon the night.

Tis the night for spirits to roam,
And witches fly across the moon,
Their cackling laugh will chill you,
As they dance upon the night.

You may want to lock your doors,
Hide behind the walls of stone,
But if ye dare, ye will watch in awe
As they dance upon the night.

So keep your children safe inside,
Your loved ones hidden from their sight,
And ye alone shall watch and learn,
And you’ll dance upon the night.

Calculate That!

2006-10-20T09:21:00.000-05:00

My husband is a math teacher and has never come to my poetry
nights, because as he says he isn't into words. But he did
Challenge me that if I could write a poem using math he would
come. Be careful what you ask for....

CALCULATE THAT

If X equals me
And Y equal you
Then X + Y
Equals me and you.

But if Y is
Dividing itself by 2
Then X isn’t getting
100% of you.

You say at 59
You’re in your prime
Well honey listen to me
Things aren’t what they used to be

Did you ask what’s your cosine
What’s your angle?
Don’t get your undies
All in a tangle

You aren’t the only one
With a young one on the side
And baby mine takes me
On an all night ride

And remember this old axiom’s true
18 goes into 59 more times
Than 59 goes into 18
Absolute value rules!

Piecewise the variables work for me,
Your expression I calculate
Is finally seeing the formula
Seeing how I equate

That if X = me
And Y= you
X - Y equals
Me minus you.

Calculate that!

Autumn Equinox

2006-09-22T14:11:00.000-05:00

Autumn Equinox

Come all and share in the harvest,
Prepare for the winters cold winds,
Tonight we are the harvesters and hunters,
The light of the water and earth.

We will cut the willows,
Gather seeds and pods,
Grapes for our winter wine,
Give offerings to the land.

Give praise to Mabon and Modron
God and Goddess of the harvest,
Honor the ones who left this land,
With apples upon their graves.

Together we walk the forest,
Gather dried plants and herbs,
Fill our baskets with the offerings,
Passion flower, sage, rose, and myrrh.

Our friends the wolves and eagles,
All animals of the forest and skies,
Share in our harvest as they too
Prepare for the winter to come.

We will feast upon cornbread.
Squash, grains and berries,
Drink wine and ale to hearts content,
Sleep a good sleep,

For soon the autumn will end,
The harvest will be over,
The gods and goddesses be praised,
As winter blankets the earth.

No Apologies

2006-09-22T14:10:00.000-05:00

No Apologies

Say what you want about me,
They are only words,
I am who I am
No apologies

I may be different than you,
Look different,
Think differently,
No apologies.

Our beliefs may differ,
Thoughts wander different paths,
Yet we can find common ground,
No apologies.

I don’t ask you to believe
Everything I say, think, or feel,
Just to see me,
No apologies.

There are no incriminations,
No saying you are wrong,
Just saying I am me,
No apologies.

You may listen to others,
Put me down for being me,
Telling stories you may believe,
No apologies.

Just listen to your heart,
You know who I am,
You know me,
No apologies.

In Kindergarten

2006-09-22T14:08:00.000-05:00

Kindergarten

In kindergarten we learned the ABC’s,
That naps were good and were often
Followed by cookies and milk
And a wonderful story time.

In kindergarten we learned to share,
Our toys and to play with others,
That finger painting was messy
And oh! So much fun!

In kindergarten we learned to be polite,
To say please, and thank you,
Excuse me and bless you!
When someone sneezed!

In kindergarten we learned whispering
And telling secrets about another
Wasn’t nice and wasn’t how
Good people acted towards others.

In kindergarten we learned to
Take our muddy shoes off
Before entering the room
So not to track dirt on the floor.

In kindergarten we learned
Teachers were to be respected
To listen when they spoke,
To learn what they taught.

In kindergarten we learned
We could make new friends,
But the old friends would
Still be there when we got home.

In kindergarten we learned making cards
For our parents was fun and
Our parents liked them! The
Gift meant more than the cost.

In kindergarten we learned
To clean up our messes when done,
To put away our toys
Or crayons, scissors and paper.

In kindergarten we learned not to
Talk behind others backs or to
Tell stories to their friends,
To make them not like them.

In kindergarten we learned
We didn’t judge each other,
But accepted each other
As we were for who we were.

In kindergarten our fights were
Over who got the red or blue crayon,
Not over who voted red or blue,
Or what government policy was right.

In kindergarten the teacher
Settled the dispute and we
Accepted the decision and
Went on with our play.

Sometimes I wish we could
All go back to kindergarten.

I Wish

2006-08-15T12:43:00.000-05:00

I WISH

Sometimes I wish my thoughts were deep,
That my words would make people think,
Make them ooh and aah,
Be amazed by my mind!

I wish I could write of war and peace,
Of Xanadu and beyond,
Talk about the stars and moon,
Of deep space, black holes and Mars.

I wish my words would flow,
Like a river of honey sweet,
And could melt your minds and hearts,
Make you taste and smell and see.

I wish I were politically savvy,
Could write a poem to end all wars,
And make the politicians hear,
And make them care about the things they do.

I wish I could write of poverty,
Of injustice and hardship,
Of struggle for freedom and,
Somehow with my words make it right.

I wish I my poetry would make people understand,
Religion isn’t meant to be used,
In anger and hatred and killing,
But to love your neighbor as yourself.

I wish my words could get the world together,
To understand we are all different,
That cultures need not clash,
But could blend and enrich each other.

But I’m not a complex person,
My poems and words are simple ones,
So while my poetry will never rock the world,
I will share it and my love with you.

Queer Victoria - a google search poem

2006-08-12T10:58:00.000-05:00

This poem needs some explaination. This was written from google search words that took people to my sister, Victoria's, blog. The words were: Queer Victoria, Karate, Separtist planet, driving on the left side of the road, hairy black women, fucking Chamarro girls, Kit Kat Klub, anal, autistic psychopathy, and main and kill periodical love.
Victoria said there's a poem in there somewhere, so I set out to write one and here is the result.

Queer Karate Victoria from a
Separatist Planet of beautiful women,
Wrote a letter against driving
On the left side of the road.

We sat, the pseudo-intellectuals,
Around a table at Sullivan’s,
Drinking pitchers of beer,
Solving all the problems of the world.

Separatist planet of beautiful women are
Against hairy black women
On the left side of the road,
Fucking Chamorro girls,

Around a table at Sullivan’s,
Priscilla, Kip, John and me,
Solving all the problems of the world,
Young and so sure of all we said.

Against hairy black women in
Kit Kat Klub anal movies
On the left side of the road
Of autistic pschopathy as

Priscilla, Kip, John and me,
Friends and lovers joined in mind,
Solving all the problems of the world,
All the problems except our own.

Kit Kat Klub anal movies
Maim and kill periodical love,
Of autistic psychopathy,
On the right side of the road as

Friends and lovers joined in mind,
Seeking truth in a pitcher of beer,
Young and so sure of all we said,
We knew nothing and no less today.

They maim and kill periodical love,
Not beautiful, skinny or rich, standing
On the right side of the road
Are the real women.

Seeing truth in a pitcher of beer,
Never finding what we sought,
We knew nothing and no less today,
Still we did try to change the world.

Fast Food Girl

2006-07-12T09:43:00.000-05:00

She serves up burgers and fries,
Fake smiles and happy lies,
“Would you like a drink?”
At least she doesn't have to think,
Just take the money, give back the change,
Don't worry if she's a little strange,
She serves up burgers and fries,
Fast food and happy lies.

She wipes the tables, washes trays,
Never has much to say,
Ask her opinion she doesn’t know,
"Is that for here, or do you want it to go?"
That's what you get from a fast food girl,
She lives in her own little world,
Serving up burgers and fries,
Fake smiles and happy lies.

She sweeps the floor, gets out the mop,
Cleans up other peoples slop,
Her hours change from day to day,
She doesn't care, collects her pay,
Knows in her heart there's so much more,
Says goodnight as she walks out the door,
Goes home smelling of burgers and fries,
Serves fake smiles and happy lies.

He Made That Guitar Sing

2006-07-01T10:53:00.000-05:00

He Made That Guitar Sing
By Bonnie Johnson (Rivas)

I went to listen to his music,
Someone told me he was good,
Said he could really make,
A guitar take off and sing.

Looking like a young Chris Christopherson,
He brought those strings to life,
And made that guitar laugh and cry,
And yes, he made it sing.

As the sun set on pale pink skies,
He transported us in time,
To smoky rooms and champagne bubbles,
His riffs did dance and sing,

Right through your soul,
To tapping feet and hands,
Sitting still was not an option,
When he made that guitar sing.

When he put his guitar down,
You knew you hadn’t had enough,
He left you wanting just,
Once more to hear that guitar sing.

Walking out into the night,
The crescent moon above,
His music echoed in the air,
Yes, he made that guitar sing.

From Where I stand - a pantoum

2006-06-29T13:14:00.000-05:00

(this is one of those in the middle of the night poems)

From where I stand,
I see her at the corner,
The light changes,
Yet, she patiently waits.

I see her at the corner,
Others cross and stare,
Yet she patiently waits,
She doesn’t seem to care.

Others cross and stare,
The sun highlights her blue streaked hair,
She doesn’t seem to care,
They are not part of her world.

The sun highlights her blue streaked hair,
The ear I can see has three earrings,
They are not part of her world,
I touch my own unpierced ears.

The ear I see has three earrings,
I wonder if I would dare,
I touch my own unpierced ears,
Shaking my head I know the answer.

I wonder if I would dare,
Why does she wear baggy clothes,
Shaking my head I know the answer,
Covering her budding woman’s body.

Why does she wear baggy clothes,
Once was asked about me,
Covering her budding woman’s body.
On the brink of adulthood, the wonderment

Once was asked about me,
As she stands so aloof, cool, yet sweet,
On the brink of adulthood, the wonderment,
She sees me turns to me and smiles.

As she stands so aloof, cool, yet sweet,
“Where have you been?” she asks
She turns to me and smiles,
"Watching you," I answer.

“Where have you been?” she asks
I just admire for the moment,
Watching you I answer,
“Oh! Mom!” she laughs

I just admire for the moment,
From where I stand
Oh! Mom! She laughs,
Yet, she patiently waits.

Poor Dumb Animals

2006-06-29T12:43:00.001-05:00

Yes, this actually happened. Kind of makes you wonder
who the poor dumb animals really are!

Poor Dumb Animals – by me

I was careful to check,
Made sure all the cats were
Locked upstairs safe and sound,
Before I opened the door.

But as I opened it, trash bags in hand,
A flash of orange zoomed past,
Oh! Sh_ _ (use your imagination –
Insert appropriate expletives!)

Dropping the bags I was carrying,
I gave chase as he approached
The neighborhood stray tom cat,
I had been feeding every morning.

But, there were no hisses or growls,
Just nose touching and off they went!
It as then I realized I was standing
Outside in only my nightshirt.

After hurriedly dressing I went back,
To rescue my poor cat,
As it was now raining and
He didn’t seem to know enough,

To come in out of the rain.
I walk in the downpour calling
Getting soaked when I hear a
Familiar meow answer my call.

Yes, there he and Scarface were,
Deep in the bushes dry as could be,
Watching me with concern,
Trying to call me in out of the rain.

Finally, taking pity on me,
My cat tentatively takes a
Step out and I grab him and
Run inside where he’d be safe and dry.

While peeling off my soaked clothes,
I tell my husband what had occurred.
He never questioned the intelligence
Of chasing a cat in the pouring rain.

“You got him back in then,” was all he said.
“Of course,” I replied. “After all, he’s just a
Poor dumb animal who doesn’t know enough
To come in out of the rain.

Irish Songs

2006-06-25T09:12:00.000-05:00

This is a song/poem I wrote for my maternal grandfather.

IRISH SONGS

Grandpa used to drink a bit,
And sometimes he’d get drunk,
And when he did he’d sing soft Irish tunes,
Grandma would act mad,
But I’d see her smile as she turned away
And even now today
I see them there,
Grandpa at the kitchen table,
Grandma in her rocking chair.

Oh, time you moved too quickly by,
Taking love and laughter and Irish songs,
And childhood memories of mine,
Oh time, you treated me so wrong.

Grandpa used to drink a bit,
And sometimes he’d get drunk
Then he’d dance an Irish jig,
He said he’d dance at my wedding,
But he died before I married,
As his coffin pallbearers carried,
I sang a soft Irish tune,
Dance the Irish jig,
Oh, grandpa, you died too soon.

Oh, time you moved too quickly by,
Taking love and laughter and Irish songs,
And childhood memories of mine,
Oh time, you treated me so wrong.

Grandpa used to drink a bit,
And sometimes he’d get drunk,
And he’d talk of God and heaven,
I wonder is God sings Irish songs,
With grandpa and do they dance
The jig, is there a chance,
Grandpa and God will share a drink,
And talk of Ireland so green,
It’s just something I like to think.

Oh time, you moved too quickly by,
Taking love and laughter and Irish songs,
And childhood memories of mine,
Oh time, you treated me so wrong.

Grandpa used to drink a bit,
And sometimes he’d get drunk,
And now I miss the Irish songs,
Dancing the jig with him,
Twirling round the kitchen floor,
We didn’t need anything more,
Grandma would smile,
As we danced and sang,
Laughing all the while.

Oh time, you moved too quickly by,
Taking love and laughter and Irish songs,
And childhood memories of mine,
Oh time, you treated me so wrong.

IN YOUR EYES

2006-06-25T09:04:00.000-05:00

The night air was cool as we walked,
He held my hand tightly as we talked,
Of love and life and telling lies.
Then I told him I no longer loved him,
And he said, “Don’t you know the stars
Are brightest, when the moon is in your eyes?
When the moon is in your eyes.”

And I said, “I enjoyed the night,
Preferred the darkness to the light.”
The night wind mingled with my sighs,
I knew if he said he loved me,
Underneath the stars and moon,
He’d just be telling me more lies,
Telling me more lies.

We continued walking in the night,
Kissed and held each other tight,
Holding on while love dies,
Neither of us knowing why.
We were hanging onto memories,
And broken hearts and lies.
Broken hearts and lies.

I said, “Maybe we should say good-bye.”
Wasn’t prepared to see him cry,
Tears mingled with both our sighs,
We turned to walk our separate ways,
And he said, “Don’t you know the stars
Are always brightest, when the moon is in your eyes.
When the moon is in your eyes.”

I AM NOT GETTING OLD!

2006-06-25T08:59:00.000-05:00

I am not getting old!
Just because I can’t remember your name
Or the day of the week
My mind is slowing, but not yet old!

I don’t know Tony Hawk,
Or Snoop Dog,
Or what kind of tool
An MC Hammer Is!

I do remember The Beatles,
Corner soda shoppes,
Juke boxes, noon day
Dances, and penny candy.

You laugh and say I have
What you call oldstimers disease
When I forget my words
Or lose track of my thoughts.

Kids shake their heads when
I ask, Britney who?
Or cover my ears and in my
Mothers voice say, you call that music?

Joan Baez, Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell,
They knew what music meant
Not just screaming words,
But representing the time and speaking out.

Reality TV? What is that?
What happened to Leave it to Beaver
Or when Father knew best
And Lucy! I’m home made us laugh?

Where are the corner stores and bakeries,
Children no longer play hopscotch
On busy city streets and going home when
The street lights come on means nothing now.

A play station was the tree everyone returned
To in hide and go seek when the person who
was IT called all in free! Do kids even play that now?
Yes, I am getting older, but! I am not getting old!

The Shadow or Final Breath by Bonnie Rivas

2006-06-03T17:55:00.000-05:00

The Shadow - a Pantoum

The tree in the front yard looks bigger tonight
The locusts chirp louder than ever before
In the darkness I do not fear my plight
As the shadow crosses my door.

The locusts chirp louder than ever before,
The sound is almost fake,
As the shadow crosses my door,
I ask are you here to give or to take.

The sound is almost fake.
The shadow stares with piercing eyes,
I ask are you here to give or to take,
He just shakes his head and sighs.

The shadow stares with piercing eyes,
His hand slowly reaches for mine,
He just shakes his head and sighs,
I reach back but there’s nothing to find.

His hand slowly reaches for mine,
I find I’m changing too much,
I reach back but there’s nothing to find,
Yet he’s chilled my soul with his touch.

I find I’m changing too much.
He says I’ve danced this dance before,
Yet he’s chilled my soul with his touch,
Remember the dance, to remember more.

He says I’ve danced this dance before,
But was afraid of what I would find,
Remember the dance to remember more,
In the halls and corridors of my mind.

But I was afraid of what I would find,
He just shakes his head in disgust,
In the halls and corridors of my mind,
Will I find anything I can trust.

He just shakes his head in disgust,
But I follow him through the door,
Will I find anything I can trust?
He says he has to even the score.

But I follow him through the door,
Seeking life or seeking death,
He says he has to even the score,
As I take my final breath.

Seeking life or seeking death,
The locusts chirp louder than ever before,
As I take my final breath,
The shadow crosses my door.

Michael

2005-11-20T19:53:00.000-05:00

This following song/poem was written for a friend I met over the internet. She told me of a lost love and from her emails the following was composed.

Michael told me that he loved me,
Would love me for forever,
But I would have to choose,
The time was now or never.

I chose to take the other one,
Give him all my life,
I often wonder how it would have been,
Being Michael’s wife.

Michael said he wouldn’t forget me,
Made sure I would remember, too,
Said he had a fantasy, a
Dream about us two.

We would meet years later,
Drinking coffee in a New York café,
Both of us would be divorced,
Feeling lost and betrayed.

Then he’d look up and see me sitting there,
He would know me instantly,
Even though twenty years had past,
Seen he’d last seen me.

He would come over to my table,
Not have to say a word,
The love in our eyes would do the talking,
Sweetest words ever heard.

Without a word we would leave,
Walking hand in hand into the day,
And we would live and love again,
Forever and for always.

One day I found myself,
Drinking coffee in a New York café,
I wondered if Michael was there,
If he was what would we say.

Michael told me that he loved me,
Would love me for forever,
But I would have to choose,
The time was now or never.

Tostidos and Vodka

2005-11-20T19:20:00.000-05:00

This was written after a very emotional night between friends and lovers:

Tostidos and Vodka

It was a night for Tostidos and vodka,
A night for silent words,
A night of unshared feelings,
For messages left unheard.

It was a night for nervous breakdowns,
A night for unshed tears,
A night we will all remember,
A night of unspoken fears.

No one could have predicted,
Known the final out come,
Until the silence was shattered,
By the blast of her pearl handled gun.

It was a night when eyes did the talking,
When tongues lay silent and still,
A night of understanding,
The saying, “If only looks could kill.”

It was a night of great understanding,
When it all became crystal clear,
When some of us gained and some of us lost,
All that we ever held dear.

No one could have predicted,
Known the final out come,
Until the silence was shattered,
By the blast from her pearl handled gun.

It was a night when we all bled in silence,
A night of unspoken grief,
A night when life was stolen,
By and unseen, unfeeling thief.

It was a night of final redemption,
A night to settle the score,
A night of final decisions,
That matter to us no more.

No one could have predicted,
Known the final out come,
Until the silence was shattered,
By the blast from her pearl handled gun.

Nervous Breakdown

2005-11-20T19:17:00.000-05:00

This was written while sitting in a traffice jam on I-4 in Tampa, Fl - I had just found out someone I trusted had left me for a younger woman :-).

NERVOUS BREAKDOWN

I’m on the I-4 Parking lot,
Heading for disaster,
Heading for a nervous breakdown.

I’m on the I-4 Parking lot,
Heading for Orlando,
Not making very much ground.

He told me he would love me,
Forever and for always,
Love me ‘til the day he died.

Well, he must have died yesterday,
‘Cause I’m still living,
And I’m the one who cried.

Said he wouldn’t break my heart,
If I came back to him,
We would never part.

He’s found another,
That’s what he said,
But she only got him after he was dead.

‘Cause he told me that he’d love me,
Forever and for always,
Love me ‘til the day he died.

Well, he must have died yesterday,
‘Cause I’m still living,
And I’m the one who cried.

Said he hadn’t planned it,
Just one of those things,
Now we’ll be taking back our gold wedding rings.

Said she was younger,
More fun to be around,
But she’ll have to find him in the cold ground.

‘Cause he told me that he’d love me,
Forever and for always,
Love me ‘til the day he died.

Well, he must have died yesterday,
‘Cause I’m still living,
And I’m the one who cried.

Met her at work awhile ago,
She lives in Orlando,
Now wouldn’t you know,

In a little townhouse,
On a great big street,
I’m headed there ‘cause we’re gonna meet.

‘Cause he told me that he’d love me,
Forever and for always,
Love me ‘til the day he died.

Well, he must have died yesterday,
‘Cause I’m still living,
And I’m the one who cried.

I’ve got my little white pistol,
With my little gold bullets,
To put through their cold, cold hearts.

So, he’ll keep his promise,
That he would die,
Before we would ever part.

‘Cause he told me that he’d love me,
Forever and for always,
Love me ‘til the day he died.

Well, he must have died yesterday,
‘Cause I’m still living,
And I’m the one who cried.

I’m on the I-4 Parking lot,
Heading for disaster,
Heading for a nervous breakdown.

I’m on the I-4 Parking lot,
Heading for Orlando,
Not making very much ground.

I’m on the I-4 Parking lot,
Heading for disaster,
Heading for a nervous…. Break…. Down!

My Parents Dreams

2005-11-20T18:53:00.000-05:00

My Parents Dreams
by Bonnie (Rivas) Johnson copyright 1999

My father dreamed an artists life,
Creations of his mind and soul,
All he felt would make him whole.
My mother did not know my father’s dreams.
My mother dreamed of fortune,
Far away from poverty and strife,
A life of leisure as a rich man’s wife.
My father did not know my mother’s dreams.
Dreams were lost forgotten as,
Children came along. They tried,
Bills took over, at three Lydia died.
Sadness and pain buried my parents dreams.
My father grew old in his steelworkers life,
My mother grew bitter as a poor man’s wife.
Neither cared about the other’s dreams.
My father dreams an artists life,
Creations of his mind and soul,
My mother dreams a richer life,
All the things to make her whole,
The do not know each others dreams.