In Memory of Her Late Majesty Queen Elizabeth II
our queen
our queen
was made of loyalty
truth. endurance
and 70 years
upon the throne
our queen
was made of granite
history
and an indelible faith
that gave us hope
our queen
was the commonwealth
and the church of england
she wore them proudly
like a flag of honour
our queen witnessed
the destruction
and the devastation of war
and pledged herself
to a lifetime of service
our queen
was home and family
horses trees and dogs
and a lesson on how to live
a good life
our queen was
motherhood and monarchy
and little red boxes
that arrived every day
except on christmas
our queen
was paddington bear
dinner on sunday
and a cup of tea with a slice
of chocolate biscuit cake
our queen
was a trailblazer.
an original who
like this very moment in time
can never be replaced
our queen
was a light that shone
in the hearts
in the minds
and in the will of the people
may her memory forever shine
upon the throne of england
©PJ Yukon Feb 24 2023
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Read more: https://pj-johnson-yukon-poet-laureate.webnode.page/2023/
Read more: https://pj-johnson-yukon-poet-laureate.webnode.page/2023/
dogs are someone
dogs are someone
not something
treat them like family
because they are
greet them like company
because they matter
connect with them
because they love to feel connected
share your joy with them
because they understand it
share your tears with them
because they care
thank them for enriching your life
because they do
touch them
because they are sentient beings
dance with them
because dogs love to play
sing to them
because the sound of your voice is magic
feed them well
because they deserve it
tell them you love them
because you can
allow them to run freely
because freedom makes the heart soar
talk to them
because sometimes dogs get lonely
walk with them
because footprints matter
respect their ways
because dogs will always be dogs
but most of all
treasure them
because moments make memories
and memories can last forever
but your dog cannot
because one day
god will want them back
©PJ Yukon March 13th 2022
Photo: Alix Collins
My brother and I were throwaways. We both ended up in the system and the system wasn’t kind. Only one of us survived. This poem is based on a true story.
My brother Dwight was born at a time when it wasn't alright to be biracial. My brother Dwight was born at a time when is wasn't alright to be gay. We both ended up in the system and the system wasn't kind. Only one of us survived.
We are all born equal. And then the world comes along and tries to tell us we are not. He was my big brother. His name was Dwight.
dwight
dwight was born bi-racial
at a time
when it wasn’t alright
to be bi-racial
dwight was born gay
at a time
when it wasn’t alright
to be gay
dwight’s mother
abandoned him
because she didn’t want
a bi-racial child
dwight’s foster parents
ridiculed him
because they didn’t want
a gay son
dwight's friends
beat him
because they didn't want
a fag for a friend
dwight jumped off a bridge
in vancouver in 1969
because he didn’t want
to live
he was my big brother
his name was dwight
all lives matter
He was my big brother. His name was Dwight. All lives matter.
©PJ Yukon February 15 2020
the heart never says goodbye
i don’t believe in letting go
or giving up on someone dear
i’m always here
i think you know
the heart never says goodbye
for i believe in forever
and dreams that learn to fly
and love that lives forever
as it burns across the sky
you may chase your dreams forever
and ride upon the wind
you may dance upon a mountain
i will dance with you my friend
you may sail a thousand rainbows
and gaze down from the stars
my heart is yours forever
wherever you are
i don’t believe in letting go
or giving up on someone dear
i’m always here
i think you know
the heart never says goodbye
we will always be together
and i can tell you why
you are in my heart forever
and the heart never says goodbye
you are in my heart forever
and the heart never says goodbye
©PJ Yukon 2012
View Video at: Video Songs & Storytelling
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Howlin' Time is a spirit song that my heart just wrote all by itself.
Howlin' Time
when the haunting howl of grey wolf
cuts across the arctic air
and you stand beneath the mountain
and the frost is in your hair
and your soul is bent and bleeding
but there's nothin’ you can do
you're awake and yet you're dreaming
all there is is god and you
it's howlin' time
and you are part of everything
and everything is you
yet you walk along forgotten
by a world you never knew
and your life is like a season
when the moon has gone insane
and it shimmers down your shoulder
comes to life and dies again
it's howlin' time
it's howlin' time
it's howlin' time
when the spirits of the lost ones
come to walk with you again
it's howlin' time
it's howlin' time
when there's only god and you
it's howlin' time
so you wander in the willows
and you cut across your pain
and there's magic in the treetops
and a raven calls your name
and your eyes are bright with sonnets
and you wonder if you're sane
as the spirits of the lost ones
come to walk with you again
it's howlin' time
and you ask about your mother
and the child that never was
as a thousand answers leave you
but the question never does
and you reach out to your father
he's a million miles away
he'll be gone by monday morning
but by god he heard you pray
it's howlin' time
and you know that he is dying
and you know that no one cares
as you stumble up the mountain
and the frost is in your hair
and you hunger for a reason
and you hunger for a clue
and you hunger for a season
but there's only god and you
it's howlin' time
it's howlin' time
it's howlin' time
when the spirits of the lost ones
come to walk with you again
it's howlin' time
it's howlin' time
when there's only god and you
it's howlin' time
when there's only god and you
it's howlin' time
©PJ Yukon1993
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The poem "she walks with a certain pride" was inspired by the vision of a Yukon elder I had seen many times in many forms. A most admirable spirit quietly living a remarkable life yet she is all but invisible. Some of the most amazing people go unnoticed.
she walks with a certain pride
moving slowly along the highway
each step a labor and leaning heavily
on a gnarled willow stick
she walks with a certain pride
her wispy hair flowing out
from under a fox-trimmed hood
that frames her sun-dark face
in the tedious tailwinds
of traffic rushing infinitely
her teak-brown gaze
unwavering
and destination-fixed
betrays no air of expectation
only the steady dark prints
of moosehide moccasins
and the rounded tracks
of her pack-laden Husky
trail out behind her
panting, the two plow unbroken drifts
their trail growing distant
in the lengthening of shadows
her old eyes bright in bitter winds that whisper
of a day when Raven stole away the Sun
of drumsongs. dancing.
and of legends passed down by elders
weaving baskets
over pine-scented campfires
as a cool December moon
outlines her smallness
she pauses to tug at the Husky’s harness
sighing frostily
and trudges on
the steady thrust of her
willow stick
piercing the snow
like the rhythm of an ancient drumbeat
she begins to chant a tuneless song
of burning sweetgrass.
sinew-threaded moccasins.
and great warriors
gone back to the earth
like old totems
returned as she
the circle of her life complete
will
©PJ Yukon March 1989
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According to Native legend it is said that when our days upon the earth have drawn to a close the owl calls your name. When a loved one moves on into the Spirit World there are often many things left unsaid. This song is dedicated to a friend of mine.
The Owl Called Your Name
Now the winds blow cold on the Skagway road
And the snow falls without end
And I never said goodbye to him
Even though he was my friend
Oh why is it so hard to say
What's hidden in the heart
The words that mean the most to us
Before we’re torn apart
Well I saw a sparkle in his eye
As he said, "I’ve got a load
Haulin’ ore from Whitehorse
Down the Skagway Road
Well she's a steep grade down to Skagway town
And it ain't much fun to do
But I'll drive that 18 wheeler
Just to make a buck or two”
I said "Hey that’s great, I’m running late”
He just smiled and walked away
I said "It's been fun I’ve gotta run."
But I wish that I had said…
"You touched my heart
You touched my soul
And I have loved you more than you could ever know"
And I wish that I could have told him so
But it was hidden in the heart
That night in a blinding snowstorm
On a winding mountain pass
The fog rolled in and the route got thin
And the road was smooth as glass
And somewhere on that mountain
On a lonely canyon lane
Came the growl and the squeal of smokin' steel
And the owl called out his name
Now sometimes when I'm dreaming
I see him lookin' good
I see that sparkle in his eye
And I would tell him if I could....
“You touched my heart
You touched my soul
And I have loved you more than you could ever know
And I wish that I could have told you so
Before the owl called your name”
Now the winds blow cold on the Skagway road
And the snow falls without end
And I never said goodbye to him
Even though he was my friend
Oh why is it so hard to say
What's hidden in the heart
The words that mean the most to us
Before we’re torn apart
The words that mean the most to us
Before we’re torn apart
©PJ Yukon 1999
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*Written on Feb 28 2004 while living in an old trailer out on Burma Road in Whitehorse Yukon.
morning falls finely through my frosted front window
morning falls finely through my frosted front window
quietly. silently.
almost afraid to wake itself up
as the incessant crackle of an errant radio
-Trader Time and other madness -
yak-yakking away in the background
dances a jig in my half-shut mind
and the first few rays of today
break over the massive mountains
revealing
old sleds and dog bones
frost-covered
and glittering-mad
with sun
about the endless ranch yard
and a string of straggly ravens
hanging on the clothes line
all lined up and waiting
to score a little breakfast
with the cows
the winter-dead river
ice-thickened and flushed with sun
cracks open like a gunshot
as the piercing shriek
of an enraged squirrel
shoots to the top of a rime-gilded pine
and the sharp shrill roar of a
snow machine howls through my soul
as it cuts across a pasture
somewhere in the distance
such is life
such is a saturday
such is a lazy winter morning
through my frosted front window
somewhere north
of Whitehorse
©PJ Yukon 2004
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From my earliest memory my favorite person in the world was my Grandmother. Her name was Ruth Caswell and although we were not bound by a blood-tie we are eternally bound by a heart-tie.
Once I was grieving the loss of my grandmother. "Where are you," I cried. “Why aren't you here? I need you!" The following words came to me: "Set not your face in grief against the wind" and I was inspired to write the following poem in 1988.
set not your face in grief
set not your face in grief against the wind
this death is but a word
that wanders in the night
planting sorrow in the hearts of men
cast down the seed
set not your face in grief against the wind
i am the rose so full of life i cannot die
celebrate me
for this death means nothing
i am beauty in full bloom
set not your face in grief against the wind
for i am new and perfect
like the snow that falls around you
i the silent miracle sift down from heaven
knowing heaven
set not your face in grief against the wind
for i am raven, free in spirit
soaring highly without bound
i am legend reminding you of life
reminding you to live
©PJ Yukon 1988
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The poem "Reclaiming" was inspired by respected Yukon Elder, Elijah Smith's famous call to arms,"Together Today For Our Children Tomorrow" that resulted in Yukon Native Landclaims finally becoming a reality.
The idea behind the poem it is that you cannot claim something that is already yours - you have to reclaim it.
"Reclaiming"
The Spirit of Raven is rising
The Wolf howls out to the moon
The day is ripe for honour
As lonely weeps the loon
The land cries out to the people
The people cry out to the land
“What price for the soul of Wolf and Crow?
Does anyone understand?
What price for the ancestral homeland?
What debt is there need to repay?
What ease for the loss of a heritage
That never was given away?”
As the stream knows its path to the ocean
The caribou knows where to roam
As each star knows its place in the darkness
A people must know a home
As the crocus knows when to be purple
The salmon knows when it must spawn
So the sleeping bear wakes in the springtime
To reclaim its place in the sun
©PJ Yukon 1988
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My second book Rhymes of the Raven Lady published 1995 was basically a reprint of my first book "I Sing Yukon" (published in 1984). The cover is a portrait painted by William Sinclair that was painted prior to my investiture hence no official insignia on my Stetson. The portrait portrays of Wolf & Crow representing the two Yukon First Nations clans. #yukon #worldpoetrymonth #poetrycommunity
