Robert K. Johnson
Born in New York City (in Elmhurst), I lived in several different places there but have memories only of The Bronx (off Fordham Road). Then my family moved out "on The Island"—to Lynbrook, where we stayed till I graduated from Hofstra (then a College). Several years after my wife, Pat, and I married, we, plus our two children, settled in the Boston area and have remained there (except for my daughter, Kate, who has lived in Manhattan for quite a while). I have been writing poetry since I was twelve (many moons ago).
On a Grey Morning
My dogged bit of yard
gives proof of the long winter:
grass that's more dirt than grass,
the battered remains of a rose bush,
a leaf-bare Japanese maple--
like a beached boat's ruined hulk.
And I warm with love
for the beauty of this scene.
I'm eighty-two years old.
previously published in REACH POETRY
Midnight in the Bronx on December 31st
We lean out of windows,
grip our big metal spoons
and bang bang bang
our big metal pots--
bang for the clanging fact
that despite everything,
we've made it through 1937--
bang for our clanging hope
we will somehow do in even better
grappling with 1938!
©2016 Robert K. Johnson
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