Category: poetry
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The Chemist
I can feel it happening Breaths getting thin Farther in between Like I’m fading in. I’m leaving, This opioid dream Not for me. Not where I’ve been. I want the sharp turns. I want the twist. I want my organs Rattle my ribs. I want my heart to drop, Just…
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Free
I’ve been reminiscing on the wind About gliding through the luster of my hair. I am transfixed— by the asylum found in there. My escape from my own pretenses. I walked through the meadow floor Stumbling upon the lives that appeared before me. An existence of utter tranquility That momentary…
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War
This poem reflects on a childhood shaped by conflict hidden behind the appearance of a normal family. In public, the father is charming and admired, present at recitals and quick to play the role of the attentive parent. At home, however, arguments and blame fill the space, and the child…
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The Hard Parts
The hardest part of a deep connection is the physical memory it leaves behind. It’s the way a scent or a shadow pulls you back to the start, even when you’re trying to move forward. You can “play it smart,” but the heart doesn’t always follow the rules.
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What the Walls Remember
Some houses hold the kind of quiet that never leaves. This one’s for anyone who grew up learning to read that quiet. It’s not about forgiveness. It’s about what stays after the noise is gone.
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On Your Sixth Birthday
Six years ago, I met the little lion who made me a mother. In this tribute to my firstborn, I reflect on the ache, the awe, and the hilarious meltdowns that shaped our journey, because raising Grayson has been equal parts joy, chaos, and love deeper than I ever imagined…
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B-52 Bar and Lounge
Bob made a choice he couldn’t take back, and the people who love him are left to question why. It’s not about closure. It’s about what’s left behind.
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Where the Light Lands
This Father’s Day, I wrote a poem. It’s called “Where the Light Lands,” for the man who holds our home together in quiet ways. It’s about love that shows up without asking for applause. For him, and for fathers who carry more than they ever say out loud.
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Built For The Storm
Motherhood is part circus, part sacred ritual. You get roared at by a tiny CEO in Spider-Man socks, then tackled by joy in a diaper. No medals, just crumbs. #BuiltForTheStorm #MomMode #LionCubChronicles
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The Silenced
Through the fire and chaos, I see you engulfed in the flames. Wearing the weight of the world on your shoulders. I hate to see crying Natives to these lands No one can see, nor hear your cries. Fists slammed against glass, nowhere to hide. We all look in on…
Nicole Johnson 