John E. Milam

Wellton, Arizona

John calls the Desert Lands of the Southwest "God's Cathedral." It's there that he finds peace and love for his fellow man. Hope and faith for his searching soul. He was born April 19, 1914 in Arkansas as Depression Flotsam. He settled in Yuma, Arizona in 1935. He is a state Life Member of the Arizona Congress of Parents and Teachers Associations, and he has been a Boy Scout leader. Before retiring, he was a "Day Custodian" in schools of Yuma. His poems are fed by his sincere belief that all men are brothers and that all of life is a blessing.

The Song of Silence
In the mountain's clutching shadows
That crept across the desert floor,
In the soft light of the evening,
By my hogan's lonely door;
I hear the spirits sing in silence
A song of peace - a soothing quiet;
and their nothingness caressed me
With soft fingers of the night.
I heard the song of mankind's peace
Played upon my heartstrings - and
I looked with awe - yea with reverence
Across the star washed desert land.
Silence thundered to the mountains
And then echoed back to me
All the friendliness of loneness
To a lonesome one like me.

Desert Night
A desert moon is shining
on a road that's dim and quiet;
Where I fain would sit and ponder,
through the stillness of the night.
On a stately little hillock
is a pile of gleaming sand;
it lies in peaceful solitude
and does not hint of man.
Where I can sit and watch the birthing
of a new day, fresh and bright;
as with its infant fingers it
rolls back the shades of night.
I dream my dreams of yesteryear
and things that might have been;
and words that ne'er were spoken
and places I have seen.
Life is a desert day.
It breaks in bright crescendo.
It climbs in warmth, declines in peace,
and ends in velvet splendor.

Night Spirits
Come Spirits of the night,
Unfetter my bonds.
Let me roam the woodlots,
Dance in a moon lighted glen
Run and frolic as when a child.
Let me revel in the freedom
Of the days I once knew.
Let me taste again the
Midnight dew nestling on the leaves
Feel a moonbeam strike my palm -
Bathe in the melody of a night bird.
Race the fingerlets of dawn
As they softly herald the
Birthing of a bright new day.

All poems Copyright © 1996 John E. Milam. All rights reserved.