When I first saw this page a few hours ago as it appeared to me as a mental picture, I thought for sure I would be writing about toilets. My dear wife, Carrie, pokes a little bit of fun in my direction because of a word I use whilst trying to be proper when asking where I can relieve myself… shall we say. I can’t help it.
Today was no different. While at a place of professional business, I asked a receptionist if there was a “facility” handy. She looked at me and asked, “Is there a what?”
Of course this throws one’s attempt at subtlety straight down the toilet. After a little bit of coaching, and some slight embarrassment on both of our parts, I was correctly directed to the room I needed at the time.
How I got from there to wanting to share a poem may be beyond psychological help. Still, that is where I am.
Where do you come up that stuff to write about? That is a question I have been asked on a regular basis since I was in high school. Answer: I don’t know. I would really like to think it is more a matter of inspiration finding me than my looking for it. A partnership is in the mix somewhere, for sure.
I enjoy writing. All kinds of it. Songs, poems, these little columns; I even wrote a 74 thousand word novel. It is unpublished mind you…until the right treatment for it comes along (if ever).
A few reports have already come down the line that I will tire of this (blogging) in three weeks time and not have enough steam to keep it up during football season. Hopefully more about football will be written then!
In earnest, I have been looking for this writing chance again for some time. In my first post, “Why Speak the Rights?”, I gave my dear wife, Carrie, thanks for inspiring me to write more again. Now I must give her the credit too. She doesn’t want it, mind you. But it certainly doesn’t belong to me. So, I’ll just thank the Good Lord for giving me the opportunity and the ability to share.
In my younger days I fancied poetic verse over all others. The romance of it all, I suppose. We all have passions that run so wild when we are young. To this day my favorite poem is by James Wright. The poem is called “Autumn Begins in Martins Ferry, Ohio.” It is a poem that melds the human condition and the game of football, unlike anything I have ever read. I have always loved football. If you played and still love this game, you understand what the term “suicidally beautiful”…with all apologizes to that word’s use in other connotation…can begin to mean and you celebrate it!
The following poem is of a brighter nature. I wrote it in March 2012 as I was looking at the Atlantic Ocean off a lovely porch in North Carolina.
Carrie and I visit the North Carolina shore…one little piece of it in particular…as often as we can. The two or three times a year we get down there is much more than we deserve. Such a sentiment brought forth…Ocean Visit.
OCEAN VISIT
My spirit is lifted My breath purposeful My eyes see colors They will not see again Unless they return Hope and pray they will When I close my eyes When I ignore my breath A serenity greater still Overcomes my soul Thus the sounds of the Wind acquiring my ears Pelicans that swoop and glide in formation Waves that sing in and out And occasionally crash about
March 29, 2012
Danny Johnson
