Poetry of the People featuring Lisa

This week’s poet of the people is Lisa McVety-Johnson, a gentle soul, who I first met at an exhibition of her husband's artwork. It was a while before I became aware that she was finding her voice through poetry at the 2021 release of Fall Lines. Her work is kind, understated and revealing. I look forward to her continued blossoming and coming into her own as a poet.

Al Black

Lisa Johnson-McVety is a non-fiction writer whose work was previously only heard by college professors, or friends and family at funerals. Born to a southern patriarchal family, her work focuses on the transformative healing from traumatic events in her life and is dedicated to those before her who had no voice. In 2018, at the age of 49, during lunch breaks and evenings after work, Lisa graduated from the University of South Carolina with honors earning a Bachelor of Arts Degree in Creative Writing. Lisa was awarded her first publication in 2021 Fall Lines, where you may read her poem, Sad Feet. Lisa’s poem, It’s 4 a.m., was awarded publication in The South Carolina Bards Poetry Anthology 2023. 

  

In my fall

The leaves crunch

beneath

my feet

and yet remain,

only changed

in form.

 

This season brings

a shedding,

a new stage,

and with it, new buds form

on the landscape

of my page.

 

I choose my response

to both the blooms

and the blight.

I’m a work in progress

an eternal dreamer

a student of this life.

 

  

Earth Angel

 

I was living with no clue

until I saw him for the first time

through new eyes,

the cataracts of my past removed.

 

Hardened tree limbs

for arms and legs

that engulf and protect

my wilting self.

 

I soar so very high

knowing not what the future brings.

He holds my cares, my cries

in the comfort of his wings.

 

I find relief in him

from the heat of the flames

for in his cool breeze

I live again.

 

I allow myself to float.

Expansive sky above

sun on my shoulders

safe in the sea of his love.

 

 

Shhhh

 

I am the devil

I am man himself

I am father

 

His words echo in my head

as his hand presses my face

deep into the bed

my jaws wrenched

out of place.

 

He always screamed “hush!”

 

He’s still trying to quiet me

 

He’s dead

 

The Box

 

The year 2028.

Abortion, firmly in our past.

No more bi-partisan hate.

New policy on the scene.

New government to intervene.

 

Email provides a link

to our portal.

Your fate sealed

as your date of birth will reveal.

If male, press the circle.

 

Minimally invasive,

it touts to be of great appeal.

A quick nip and tuck

no need for drugs.

Just a slice at birth, and home to heal.

 

And so, ends

the divisiveness

of this quarrel.

 

History books speak of

our barbaric acts,

how our young society suffered.

Don’t worry about these cracks.

For under our reign, we shall recover.

 

No more unwanted births.

The burden no longer on her.

Absolution founded by a mother.

Apply inside once notified

we deem you worthy to give life to another.

 

Thank god for a woman

I think God is a woman

 

Don’t worry. Whether you like it or not, we’ll protect you.