October 2015
I try to make poetry enjoyable. Not necessarily happy, although a lot of people find my work entertaining, but something that any reader might take pleasure from, the way she enjoys music or movies. This is a very different approach than what we are taught in college. To "illustrate" this, my first collection is a comic book of graphic poetry, Stairs Appear in a Hole Outside of Town, which is meant to be served with a bottle of root beer. www.johnphilipjohnson.com
There Have Come Soft Rains
In kindergarten during the Cold War,
mid-day late bells jolted us,
sending us single file into the hallway,
where we sat, pressing our heads
between our knees, waiting.
During one of the bomb drills,
Annette was standing.
My mother said I would talk on and on
about her, about how pretty she was.
I still remember her that day,
curly hair and pretty dress,
looking perturbed the way
little children do.
Why, Annette? There’s nothing
to be upset about —
The bombs won’t get us,
I’ve seen what’s to come —
it is the days, the steady
pounding of days, like gentle rain,
that will be our undoing.
-originally published in Rattle, September 2014. Issue #45
In kindergarten during the Cold War,
mid-day late bells jolted us,
sending us single file into the hallway,
where we sat, pressing our heads
between our knees, waiting.
During one of the bomb drills,
Annette was standing.
My mother said I would talk on and on
about her, about how pretty she was.
I still remember her that day,
curly hair and pretty dress,
looking perturbed the way
little children do.
Why, Annette? There’s nothing
to be upset about —
The bombs won’t get us,
I’ve seen what’s to come —
it is the days, the steady
pounding of days, like gentle rain,
that will be our undoing.
-originally published in Rattle, September 2014. Issue #45
©2015 John Philip Johnson