Throw off your Clichés

I’m not on the same page as you
but, I might agree.
I don’t want to catch your drift
yet I might see.

My mind will not be boggled
but I may
need just a minute to adjust
to what you say.

Do not say this to say that,
I’ll close my eyes….
You can’t get right to your point
I will surmise.

My heart won’t be on my sleeve-
it goes inside,
where it functions best,
the lungs beside.

And while I may indeed be
out of my comfort zone,
I’d rather just be an uncomfortable
that is my own.

And if you’ve been there, done that
enough times,
your lack of original sayings
are like crimes.

But before you claim that
we won’t even go there,
I’ll have stopped listening and with you-
won’t go anywhere.

Please say what you mean,
verbally;
so I can stop with this tedious
hyperbole.

©P.Johnson 2015

Spring, Springs

Spring – springs in open flowered fancy.
Wings – wing their highest flight’s desire.
Rain’s rains collect to satiate the thirsty.
Sun’s light increasing warmth to heaven’s choir.

Cloud’s clouds shape up to resemble the familiar,
So children can ascribe them other things.
Queen’s bees collect to feed all the auxilliars,
self sacrificing even worn out wings.

By asking will I really find the answer?
In telling will the hearer even care?
We’ve waited oh so long for our creator;
yearning so to meet Him in the air.

© P.Johnson 2014