Jeromy Johnson | February 2, 2008
Share Gone are the days of people wanting to put on their “Sunday’s best”, wearing plastic smiles, pretending everything is perfect and all is well. People are looking for communities where they feel safe to be themselves and pull off the plastic veneer of their false-self. Where in the midst of revealing their unhappiness and [...]
Jeromy Johnson | January 27, 2008
Share “God’s people” in Jesus’ day had a hard time with this… JUST ME, JUST ME Sweet Marie, she loves just me (She also loves Maurice McGhee). No she don’t, she loves just me (She also loves Louise Dupree). No she don’t, she loves just me (She also loves the willow tree). No she don’t, [...]
Jeromy Johnson | January 21, 2008
Share The hard thing with these poems is I want to place my commentary in after them. Sometimes I do. But as I look at my words, I see how they rob the poem of its heart…how they cheapen its message. So I delete my words and let the poem stand, as I did with [...]
Jeromy Johnson | January 14, 2008
Share THE SEARCH I went to find the pot of gold That’s waiting where the rainbow ends. I searched and searched and searched and searched And searched and searched, and then– There it was, deep in the grass, Under an old and twisty bough. It’s mine, it’s mine, it’s mine at last…. What do I [...]
Jeromy Johnson | December 13, 2007
Share Here’s another zinger from Shel Silverstein (my son and I love these): Messy Room Whosever room this is should be ashamed! His underwear is hanging on the lamp. His raincoat is there in the overstuffed chair, And the chair is becoming quite mucky and damp. His workbook is wedged in the window, His sweater’s [...]
Jeromy Johnson | December 6, 2007
ShareNote: The traffic light in this poem is referring to a pedestrian light. TRAFFIC LIGHT The traffic light simply would not turn green So the people stopped to wait As the traffic rolled and the wind blew cold And the hour grew dark and late. Zoom-varoom, trucks, trailers, Bikes and limousines, Clatterin’ by-me oh my! [...]
Jeromy Johnson | December 6, 2007
ShareWhat does this poem mean to you? ALICE She drank from a bottle called DRINK ME And up she grew so tall, She ate from a plate called TASTE ME And down she shrank so small And so she changed, while other folks Never tried nothin’ at all
Jeromy Johnson | November 27, 2007
ShareWhat I love about poetry is the interplay between the surface meaning of the words and the deeper meaning that lies within. Shel’s poems have a way of seeming funny and light and innocent, but then, like a fresh breeze, his intended deeper meaning speaks softly and leaves you thinking… ENTER THIS DESERTED HOUSE But [...]
Jeromy Johnson | November 26, 2007
ShareI broke out my old Shel Silverstein book that I read when I was a kid, Where the Sidewalk Ends. My son and I sat down together, blew off the dust and cracked open its cover. I had forgotten all about the humor and wisdom that lay within. So periodically, I will open up its [...]
