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Where He Listened Alone

There was wilderness that took them to Eden

A whirling glass that took them home

A broken vase that took them to a shattered life

But that was the only place they’d known;

 

Which would bring them back to paradise, naked and alone.

 

It was a sight sought in a melting moon,

A pink ribbon wrapped around a branch,

Deep waters in a shallow pond,

Somewhere beneath that game of chance.

 

A soldier slaughtered in the field of battle,

A betrayed lover lost to lust,

A wandering spirit who’s chance had been taken, 

And then in time turned to dust.

 

It was the next moment in the hour, the week or the month,

The next time his eyes had opened,

The next time in life he did trust.

 

Another’s promise or guarantee, truthful swear of certainty,

Step into darkness where trust is unknown,

A place he’d hope would take him home.

 

It wasn’t Alice, the rabbit or a throne,

Not a giant who’d been tied down by little people in a place unknown.

 

Not a sleeping beauty in a crystal box

Or watched over by dozens of gnomes.

 

But a story like all of the stories before,

Where he sat in the corner and listened alone.

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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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