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My Mammy’s Pond

MY MAMMY’S POND 

Those were the nights

Hounds bayed in the distance,

A coon being hunted in the yellow moon lite.

Bullfrogs gathered for a summertime opera

Baritone groans alive come twilight.


The rain had just passed

The old grey board farmhouse

Crickets fiddled

And sang in the hay.

Opposite the right bank

A night owl beat cool winds

Rushes whistled, past cattail cotton

That springtime evening at my Mammy’s place.


Just like a snare drum in a jazz tune from the ’50s,

Cicada would soften,

A distant train’s roar

Way off in the night,

A Gator croaks loudly as he sits on the levee,

In search of a mate,

The love of his life.


Treefrogs chirped softly in a breeze filled with wildlife,

The night now alive in winds from a storm,

Beatdown and blew in the fast-moving rains,

That springtime evening at my Mammy’s farm.


Tonight, was a night where tales would be answered,

In wildcat screams and mule deer calls

A midnight serenade, of sorts from the hoot owls,

High and far out on beams top the barn.


Moonlight danced brightly along glistening streams,

Ducks would be calling in whistles and quacks,

And way in the distance rumbling thunder as the serenade blossomed from memories way back.


These were the sounds heard in the spring nights,

A childhood remembrance of which I am found,

No place have I ever recalled or cherished,

No place like those nights on my Mammy’s pond. 

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Johnny Johnston
Johnny Johnstonhttp://www.blufengr-art.com/
An artist/writer as well as graduate of the University of South Carolina with degrees in journalism/20th Century American Literature, and retired senior executive of several international hotel/resort corporations, Johnny is the product of the south having been raised in the ever-changing transient lifestyle of a Carolina coastal resort. A point where he discovered, within his 300-year-old heritage and the world's dramatic social/cultural shifts during the late '60s to early 80’s an ambitious hunger and overwhelming curiosity to touch, see and become a participant in the virtually unlimited possibilities offered to those who wish for and seek life experiences. A journey which when hearing its details initially makes one a bit skeptical, questioning its validity as it is hard to imagine that incidents such as these may have crossed one man’s lifetime. This is the fodder required to step into zones exposing one's personal inner self, which many of his paintings and the words he writes do, openly. An ability to see and hear the tragic, beautiful, accomplished, exciting journey in a life free of inhibitions allowing others the opportunity to live vicariously and become, through his works, a part of its future. His larger works which have been featured in several Colorado and Fredericksburg Texas galleries and resorts have produced a number of collectors and fans. However, over the years, his paintings are mostly viewed by friends, enthusiastic new artist encountered on the streets or a small number of acquaintances he meets when dining in local cafés with his wife.

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2 CONVERSATIONS

  1. This is Tender Ink my brother. The sweetness of the memories reflect the duality of life as a verse brought me laughter and joy yet another verse tears from your cherished memories. As I grew up on a farm this one is very special to me. This has to be my favorite one. Your talent is a gift to us all .

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