The Poetry and Prose of Johanna Kaye Fugitt
The gaping cavern in my chest
is hidden from unknowing eyes.
Mine seek yours
everywhere I go.
Should they find what is sought,
would I be made whole?
The possibility exists,
I may be whole already.
Still,
it is my wish,
my dearest dream,
to find you.
© Johanna Fugitt 2017
Words no longer flow like they used to,
Stoppered up like a fine wine
Waiting to mature before pouring out,
Sluicing into a fine crystal glass.
These letters and spaces are tempered
By years that pass,
Soaking up the taste and experience
That life holds in its round cycle.
There are moments when
The opened barrel is ruined
By a weakened seal,
The words lost long before.
Echoes of those emotional torrents,
Still fill the space left.
The broken is then fixed,
Filled again to soak in those experiences .
Steady traditions and techniques
Ensure that within these vineyard tears
Form a tale in each splash upon the tongue,
Sorrowful or hopeful.
One day the place these vintages are kept
Will be discovered.
Their individual vast experiences tasted,
Revered by an appreciative lover.
© Johanna Fugitt 2017
Poet’s note: I started this one intending to be something called “lyric” but it turned into something else.
I remember.
Love seemed so incredible and magical.
Love was true and possible.
Love was a bond between two of the same.
Love seemed to be waiting just for me.
I forget.
When love became a far-off fantasy.
When love became impossible.
When love seemed stuck on appearance.
When love seemed not meant for me.
© Johanna Fugitt 2017
Shots echo, rockets destroy,
instinctive hearts wish to run.
But for love of free words and country,
harden fear around a gun.
© Johanna Fugitt 2017
Bright sunlight glowing
jewels of morning dew shine
foal’s first steps on earth
© Johanna Fugitt 2017
Tense foreboding,
muscle primed for action,
fear knows not
what makes it run
only that it must.
© Johanna Fugitt 2017
Thunder collaborates
with human hands,
to create song and rhythm
a reflection
of the pulse beating
in all life.
© Johanna Fugitt 2017
If a page bound I had never turned,
might I not wish for shorter sleep.
If a song sung I had never heard,
might I not wish for lover’s kiss.
If a stitch never crossed,
might I not create.
If animation I had never viewed,
might I not learn language.
If that face I had never seen,
might I not know true friends.
© Johanna Fugitt 2017
Those words that seem so unreal,
to hear their wanted song
likened to seeing
in reality
a flame birthed by dragon-mouth.
If only.
The reality sought is as such
the one-horned equus,
rare
if in truth never found,
fantastical.
© Johanna Fugitt 2017
Memories seem to flood,
floating,
pressed against the dam of mind.
Cresting, pausing at the rim,
as if in stasis,
until the drop too much
dribbles down the edge.
Funny moments squawk,
indignant,
and amusingly dislodged,
breaking a smile into the outer causeway
as they follow the endless path
into the all-encompassing sea.
Laughter
burbles in the gleaming waves,
as a moment caught
in glass-smooth surface,
pulled into the depths
reminds how silly
youth can be.
© Johanna Fugitt 2017
in the end i am yours 