Loud booms of bombs going off,

shakes the ground he is lying on.

He hears the gun fire making

its way closer and closer to him.

Missing shots hitting the dirt,

causing a huge sand-storm,

almost blocking his vision.

But he has no fear,

as he lies on the hard rocky surface.

Because they will never see him,

behind this four foot rock wall

because he, is in camouflage.

marines battle.jpg

Prompt inspired by Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha, from my Writing101 Poetry class.

Photo credit Wikipedia.

©2015 Sheridan Johnson @Journey with the Johnsons. All Rights Reserved.



You know that one topic,

that people can either love or hate?

That would be graffiti.

There really is no fine line.

For me, graffiti is a form of expression.

It can be used to express emotions,

such as hope, love, anger

and even tragedy, and loss.

For me, this is powerful.

To be able to see the final product,

of something that was just a mere thought,

 a picture, or words on a piece of paper.

For me, graffiti will always be a form of art.

And I will always be that person,

to notice it on a wall, a train,

or on a sidewalk.

For me, graffiti is the unknown.

I may not understand the full

meaning behind the image itself,

but I do know what true beauty is,

when it is right in front of me.


Artist: Unknown

Photos taken by me.

©2015 Sheridan Johnson @Journey with the Johnsons. All Rights Reserved.


There is a person,

a man in fact.

Who gave me life,

and chose to bless my parents,

with a second child.

Who was watching over me,

before I even knew He existed.

Who loves me unconditionally,

when I was trying to so hard,

to find it in my own father.

Who constantly provides for me,

in strength, courage, and protection.

Who has accepted me,

and forgiven me,

despite having made some

terrible choices in life,

and still chooses to see the good in me,

and provide blessings.

Who has given me such a great husband,

and three beautiful children.

No one can truly describe

how amazing this man is.

He gave his life so we could have ours.

He is the beloved,

Jesus Christ.

©2015 Sheridan Johnson @Journey with the Johnsons. All Rights Reserved.


As I look at all the walls around me,

I am quickly reminded of where I am.

The days go by,

the sweet memories of what life was like,

slowing starts to fade away.

The times where having a door to the bathroom,

just seemed like a necessity.

Now, I am lucky if I have enough

sand-paper like toilet paper left to use,

when it’s my turn.

Or the time where walking outside barefoot,

in the freshly-cut green grass,

was just something that

came to be second nature.

Now, I all I have is this cold,

grey-colored cement to put my feet on.

Or maybe the time where I could

put on my pajamas, and hop into bed,

and drift off into a peaceful nights sleep.

Now, I all I have  is this paper-like thin,

shirt and pants that I get to use,

to lay on my hard-as-a-rock bed,

and sleep, well that’s gone.

At the end of the day,

all of those times were mine before,

if I could only have remembered,

that freedom is never free.


Photo Credit: wisegeek

©2015 Sheridan Johnson @Journey with the Johnsons. All Rights Reserved.