Poetry is the art of imagination mixed with the language of choice, the creativity of the mind, and the effects of the senses. Poems do not necessarily reflect the personal thoughts or beliefs of the Poet. I think when you browse a Poet's page, you should take the poems for what they are and not what you may think they reflect. Like an Artist who paints a canvas and creates a scene of heavenly beauty, that painting does not mean he is religious. As you browse my poems, remember, they are just reflections of my desire to be poetic at that point in time and not necessarily an accurate nor descriptive reflection of my beliefs or thought processes. I do allow my daily life to influence my poems, but that does not mean it is an accurate reflection of my existence, thoughts, beliefs, or intentions. Nor does it mean I'm directing them towards anyone. Often I will send my poems out for some feedback. Sending them does NOT mean the poem is written about anyone. All artists desire feedback no matter the medium they are using. No matter what happens somebody will find a way to take it too seriously.
"You see, but you do not observe."
Arthur Conan Doyle
(1859-1930)
Errors and misconceptions no doubt remain, and are my own.
Now please enjoy yourself here.
"The weight of a burden of life can exceed the benefits of living but then our family and loved ones enter our sight and that makes living worth enduring. " Me.
Fear not the mind of the fearful nor envy the mind of the warrior - Me
Conflict comes in many clothes, poetry wears a variety of expressed vestments.
The mind is a cistern
a cesspool of thought
occasionally inspired
usually not.
This site may not be reproduced anywhere else. Copying is prohibited
" The Poet makes himself a seer by a long, vast and reasoned derangement of the senses - every form of love, of suffering, of madness." - Arthur Rimbaud
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----///-\\\----Put This
---|||---|||---On Your
---|||---|||---page If
---|||---|||---You Know
----\\\-///----Someone
-----\\///-----Who Died
------///\-----Of
-----///\\\----Cancer
Joined date: 18 December 2003
My love of nature is reflected in this simple poem:
The Desert
The summer breeze caressed the trees, beneath the desert moon,
And fragrance drifted in the air, from the flowers in full bloom.
Purple mountains framed the scene, beneath the cloudless sky,
And in the distance one could hear the coyote's mournful cry.
A summer rain began to fall, and quenched the desert's thirst,
So soft and gentle it began, just before the storm clouds burst.
With raging winds the lightning flashes, and lit the darkened sky,
And in the distance one could hear the coyote's mournful cry.
Now the storm released its power, the rains became a flood,
Trees and flowers washed away, in streams of flowing mud.
It seemed as though all life would end, and everything would die,
And in the distance one could hear the coyote's mournful cry.
Came the dawn the storm was gone, the air was fresh and clean,
A gentle breeze caressed the trees, and the birds began to sing.
And everywhere were signs of life, the desert seemed to sigh,
And in the distance one could hear the coyote's mournful cry.
And like the desert we too will face the storms of pain and strife,
The wind will blow and bend our will, to test us through our life.
But we can weather all the storms if we place our faith on high,
For in the distance God can hear our lonely mournful cry.
My AP Daughter "ValleyofEchos" @ http://allpoetry.com/ValleyOfEchoes
(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Check her out! Everyone! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)
"You see, but you do not observe."
Arthur Conan Doyle
(1859-1930)
Errors and misconceptions no doubt remain, and are my own.
Now please enjoy yourself here.
"The weight of a burden of life can exceed the benefits of living but then our family and loved ones enter our sight and that makes living worth enduring. " Me.
Fear not the mind of the fearful nor envy the mind of the warrior - Me
Conflict comes in many clothes, poetry wears a variety of expressed vestments.
The mind is a cistern
a cesspool of thought
occasionally inspired
usually not.
This site may not be reproduced anywhere else. Copying is prohibited
" The Poet makes himself a seer by a long, vast and reasoned derangement of the senses - every form of love, of suffering, of madness." - Arthur Rimbaud
-----///\\-----Please
----///-\\\----Put This
---|||---|||---On Your
---|||---|||---page If
---|||---|||---You Know
----\\\-///----Someone
-----\\///-----Who Died
------///\-----Of
-----///\\\----Cancer
Joined date: 18 December 2003
My love of nature is reflected in this simple poem:
The Desert
The summer breeze caressed the trees, beneath the desert moon,
And fragrance drifted in the air, from the flowers in full bloom.
Purple mountains framed the scene, beneath the cloudless sky,
And in the distance one could hear the coyote's mournful cry.
A summer rain began to fall, and quenched the desert's thirst,
So soft and gentle it began, just before the storm clouds burst.
With raging winds the lightning flashes, and lit the darkened sky,
And in the distance one could hear the coyote's mournful cry.
Now the storm released its power, the rains became a flood,
Trees and flowers washed away, in streams of flowing mud.
It seemed as though all life would end, and everything would die,
And in the distance one could hear the coyote's mournful cry.
Came the dawn the storm was gone, the air was fresh and clean,
A gentle breeze caressed the trees, and the birds began to sing.
And everywhere were signs of life, the desert seemed to sigh,
And in the distance one could hear the coyote's mournful cry.
And like the desert we too will face the storms of pain and strife,
The wind will blow and bend our will, to test us through our life.
But we can weather all the storms if we place our faith on high,
For in the distance God can hear our lonely mournful cry.
My AP Daughter "ValleyofEchos" @ http://allpoetry.com/ValleyOfEchoes
(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Check her out! Everyone! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)
- Last seen 2 hours ago. Member since December 18, 2003.
- I'm a tigereye texture poet for 1,380 comments.
- My mood is , and quote is "Comes and Goes".
- I am a man from California (United States)
- When I'm not writing, I'm Retired USAF.
- Visit my homepage at www.charlesallenjohnson.com
- I support the site as a silver member
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(31)- I am in the groups Cowboy And Cowgirl, Motorcycle Poets, Our Golden Years Over 50, Pirates N Watery Graves, Pirates RP
- I have 1,380 comments, 7 contests, 1 column, 325 poems, 2 stories, 2 journals
My Lists
- Adventure
- Family & Friends
- Humor
- Inspirational & Spiritual
- Military & War
- Motorcycles
- My Trophies
- Nature
- Old West
- Personal
- Pirates & Watery Graves
- Police
- Romance & Love & You
- The End
- Tributes
Poems I'm focused on
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There are very few women in the world
who have been truly beautiful. Very few.
50 lines, 130 comments, October 31, 2005. In Love
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The dog drooped his tail and looked wonderously sad.36 lines, 40 comments, December 18, 2003. In Humor
My Poetry
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Just a poem with horror on its mind....taken from the movie "Fog".
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In this day of Internet
When there are so many to connect
My Stories
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A single tear escaped his eye. The first of many more tears to come. His dirty hand wiped his face but it only smeared the mud around.
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It was dark when she spoke to me. I was sound asleep. That cry in the night as her water broke woke me up. We were miles from the hospital and I had just fi782 lines, 7 comments, May 25, 2005. In <200 lines, Other
My other items
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- Column: Friendships from AllPoetry.com at allpoetry
Friendships developed on Allpoetry.com, unique, lasting, true friendships are there if you need, desire, or are just lucky enough to enter one. I have been lucky in the friends I've met here on this site and in real life. Today I met such a friend fro
My journal entries
Guest Book
1 - 4 of 5
Show all
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Stuart Higginson on June 27Interesting page, Chuck, and some worthy advice at the top. I'll take a look and comment on some of your work today.
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toomysterious on December 3, 2008Thank you for your reply to my comment on your poem, I came to browse though I am short of time to read right now. I love what you have written on your page, so many comment on my poems as though they were literal depictions of my circumstance when they actually are a montage of all I've learned over a lifetime. Sometimes I feel like I am channeled to express the heartbreak of others, sometimes it is my own. Art should be univerisal, it is not always a self-portrait. I'll return when I have more time.
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Maureen : Hi Chuck, on March 22, 2008I just read Mark Rickerby's tribute to you and I want you to know that I'm looking forward to getting to know you better because of Mark's high regard for you. I'm adding you to my list of favorites because I have a good memory but it's short!
I've reached the age where I need little reminders to make sure I don't forget to do the things that I believe will be good for me. I think reading your poems will be good for me. I enjoyed the poems that Mark included in his tribute to you. 
Happy Easter, Chuck!
Maureen
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Touchof1der : Just dropping by... on March 13, 2008
