New Poetry Video Series

Poetry

I’m stepping out of my comfort zone, pushing myself to stretch my creative muscle and continue to learn. That’s nothing new (not really). It feels like my life has been in flux for the past 6 years, shifting from one life-altering upheaval to the next.

This evolution is self-inflicted, though. I’ve found myself feeling stagnant and needing to be jolted out of my near zombie state.

I’ve thought about embarking on this new path for a while, and with the help and push from just the right people- here it is. My first poem video.

If you spend the 2 minutes watching it, I would appreciate any feedback, reactions, or suggestions you may have.

Here, poetry and art collide; and, more than anything, I hope it inspires you to keep (or start) creating.

I’ve spent the past few weeks reflecting on 2023. Accomplishments, struggles, points of joy, rush of tears. And looking forward towards 2024. The precipice of new chances, new beginnings, possible endings, and the brink of the unknown.
There is a lot I’ve wanted to say. To write down. But I haven’t managed to put it all into adequate words.

So, instead- here’s my word for 2024
—> S P A C E <—

As in: making space in my life for new things. Clearing out clutter that weighs me down. Making space for new people, new opportunities, new feelings, new experiences.
As in: holding space for others. Meeting them where they are, without judgement. Accepting them as they are, without expectation.
As in: giving space to situations and circumstances, without anxiety.

2024 will not be “my year” or “the best year ever.” Like any other year or day, it will be a mixed bag. There will be causes to celebrate, heartbreak to endure, and love to give and receive.

Let us meet each new day with a replenished store of grace to offer others, joy for ourselves, and hope for our world.

2024 Focus Word

2024 Happy New Year!

Poetry

Cloudless October Sky

Poetry

It still takes my breath away. Realizing there never will be any new pictures. After I’ve recycled all the best and my favorite photos of us, of you… there will be no others.

No new memories to be made. No more laughter at silly mistakes. No more time to get things right. No more chances at a marathon. No new medals or PR bells.

The rush of anger that overtakes me— still, after 4 years— of letting go of everything we had and all that we wanted. It surprises me even now.

I have work to do. Some that I’ve tackled. Some that I’ve used simply to keep me busy and preoccupied. Some that I continue to avoid. Mainly because I fear what it will cost me in the doing.

Because I am afraid.

Of feeling too much.

Of feeling not enough.

Of forgetting.

Mostly— I am afraid of forgetting.

Happiness no longer shames me. But, if I am smiling in the now, will I still be able to hold your face in my mind? Will I still hear the echo of your laughter when I close my eyes? Will my stubborn determination to see the light of each new day still allow a space for you?

I believe it does.

Because even 2,103,840 minutes have not dulled the sharp edge of your loss. Fourteen hundred sixty-one days without you have not lessened the love you left behind.

Cloudless October sky, so much like the day you left. I wrap its beauty around me as grief twists and knots within me, and I acknowledge that I am capable of holding both simultaneously.

It is the complexity of our uniquely human experience. And I do not want to miss out on any part of it.


I still miss you.

Date night, December 2016

Calvin Keith Johnson

May 9, 1957 – October 23, 2019

Missing Things

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Have you ever been frustrated by misplacing something important?  Thinking you’d lost it for good?  

Your check card you didn’t know was missing until getting ready to pay for the $200+ of groceries in the supermarket checkout lane with 5 impatient customers waiting in line behind you. Or your favorite pair of shoes you’ve torn your whole house apart looking for because you can’t remember the last when or where you saw them. Or that favorite tshirt you always wear when you need a little extra luck but haven’t seen since you threatened to burn it after your football team lost that last heart-wrenching game.  

I am a creature of habit. Few things frustrate me to the point of insanity like having to look for something that is not in its designated spot. Neurotic or not, I’ve always believed that if you put things in the same place and return them to their place after each use, you won’t have to waste time searching for them or taxing your brain to remember the last place you put them.  But even the best systems fail sometimes; and I live alone, so I can’t even blame anyone else for sabotaging my system (lol). 

And so, when I lost my car key SIX MONTHS ago, I was mystified by its disappearance.  

I remember the last time I saw it. March 7th. I was packing for a trip and had emptied my purse onto my bed. Transferring all my necessary items into a different bag, I distinctly remember thinking there was no point in taking my car key. It’s a bulky, heavy metal fob that I just did not want to carry around with me unnecessarily. And since I would not be driving my car to the airport the next morning, there was really no need to have it with me at all.

Beyond that very specific and vivid memory, I have ABSOLUTELY NO RECOLLECTION of what I did next with that key fob.  

I remember continuing to pack, going to bed, getting up the next morning, having a wonderful trip over the next week, and safely returning home. Not until the day after my return did I realize, in a panic, that I could not find my key. I searched everywhere I could think. Luggage. Desk. Every junk drawer in my house. Under the bed. Under the mattress. Laundry hamper. Washer. Dryer. Every nook and cranny of my closet.

Nothing.

Over the following weeks I continued to search. Couch cushions. Outdoor furniture cushions. Refrigerator. Deep freezer. Trunk of my car. Under car mats and in the console and glove compartment. Every drawer of my chest of drawers and nightstands. Jacket pockets. Pants pockets. 

Still nothing.

I gave up. Resigned myself to never find that key fob and grateful that I at least had the spare to use. 

For the next few months, a friend would randomly ask about my lost key and if I had found it. “Nope,” was always my answer. Then nothing more would be said about it until it randomly made its way into our conversation again. It was gone. No use spending time worrying about it. But, occasionally, I would wonder at its mysterious disappearance.

Then, this morning as I was transferring the items from one purse into another, I noticed something in a small pocket of the inner lining of the purse I have been using for the past 2 weeks. It was an odd shape, and I didn’t remember putting anything in particular into that pocket. I ran my finger down into it to pull out whatever it was and was shocked to find my long-missing key fob. I laid it on the desk and quickly checked my wallet for the fob I’ve been using to make sure I wasn’t mistaken. For a long minute I just stared at both of them, not believing that missing fob had been here the whole time.  Right under my nose. Tagging along with me everywhere I’ve been in the past two weeks, even while I believed it was lost forever.

Which got me thinking… Isn’t it just like that sometimes? Life, I mean. All the things we cannot see, that we assume are lost or non-existent because we can’t see them, that are right here with us all along.  

Like the love of someone who has passed on? Or the loyalty of a friend? Or a faith that sustains us through the toughest times? Or the support of a community that is interwoven through every thread of our lives? 

My life is filled with the goodness of all these things; and yet, sometimes I forget. Sometimes I despair and stumble and flounder. Sometimes I fall face down and think I don’t have the will or energy or desire to get back up again. And then somewhere, in the most random moment and unexpected place, I find a treasure hidden in a pocket. And I am reminded that what I thought was lost has been with me all along.  

Book Release

announcements, Poetry

It’s official! My first collection of poetry “Pretty Little Widow” is now available.

Order paperback here https://www.amazon.com/Pretty-Little-Widow-Shelley-Johnson/dp/B0C6BFCY5X

Download ebook here https://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/B0C64VTPD9/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?ie=UTF8&qid=&sr=

Friends in the Central Louisiana area, look for upcoming announcements on availability at local retail locations.


Thank you to everyone who has already ordered! “Pretty Little Widow” is currently at number 10 on the Amazon New Releases in Poetry by Women list!!! Thank YOU!


If you have ordered and received your copy, please leave a review to help others discover my book. https://www.amazon.com/review/create-review/?ie=UTF8&channel=awUDPv3&asin=B0C6BFCY5X

Review Me

This project has been one more step in my journey through grief. I am grateful for the friends that have traveled with me and the lessons of love I am learning on the way.

Cover Artist Spotlight

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If you follow my social media, you will have heard by now that my first book is nearing it’s official release date. This collection of poems has been a labor of love over the past (nearly) 4 years, and I am excited to share it with the world.

When imagining the look and feel of a physical book I could hold in my hands, I struggled to visualize the cover. I wanted something that would capture the emotional chaos that grief brings and yet something that was beautiful and rich in color. For months I considered various options, only to discard each in frustration. It was like trying to find the right outfit for that big, important occasion. This dress fit just right but was the wrong color. That suit was the perfect color but was unflattering when tried on. And so on…

Until finally it dawned on me. The answer was hanging right in front of me all along!

Windward” by Amber Voorhies

The very first time I saw this painting by my friend Amber Voorhies, I felt an instant connection to it. It was like she had gotten into my head and painted my emotions. Deep and dark, roiling – moving into light, airy hope. I asked her about it several times over the course of a few months, until finally, when I could not stop thinking about it, I bought it and brought it home with me.

It hangs on the main wall in my bedroom where I can see it when I wake up each morning.

It is a special thing when one form of creativity sparks another form and inspires another to create. I am grateful to the makers and creators in my life. They keep me inspired and encourage me to keep reaching for more.

Amber is a talented artist. I encourage you to visit her website. You may find something there that ignites a spark with in you.

https://www.ambervoorhies.com