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Johnny Calhoun (FL) / Poetry

Poetry By Johnny Calhoun

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Dream Streaked Days and Tomorrow’s Melodies
by Johnny Calhoun

There are the simple words of an easy man
I am a man lost in a distant land
These words were created with gentle hands
These powerful hands are made of shifting sand

Languidly I wait for days yet to come
These are days holding things I’ve not yet done
There are so many things I have still to see
And there is so much love I’ve not yet won

All of these jumbled words that I now speak
They are composed of my wishes and wants too
In disbelief I stare as my eyes fill
With all the many things I have yet to do

With my unsteady hands I clumsily search
For beautiful hands I have not yet held
Brokenhearted I have searched high and low
For unimaginable lands I have not dwelled

I am holding tightly to these few things
These are all of my wishes, wants and worries too
I am inundated with such desire
As I feel these ambitions tearing through

These are all the things I would like to see
My son strong, tall and standing as a man
And to have my ears ringing with the squeak
Beneath my tired aching feet of cool fine sand

Now I will leave you to lay in these dreams
Of daybreaks yet to come and deeds undone
These dreams they are like heartstrings that sing for

Looks unseen and hearts that’re no longer one


Jail Bird

By Johnny Calhoun
I remember wringing my hands
While saying that I was through
I felt these impotent actions
Were the only things left to do
I remember my nervous hands
And how they did shake and tremble
And how falsely my buoyant heart
Felt utterly spry and nimble
My weary legs were still working
As the moment carried me away
If only I could’ve used my arms
And somehow found the strength to stay
Billowing down has no control
As it tumbles in the soft breeze
I also have been blown off course
With such an astonishing ease
Life, it is the savage trade wind
Which I’m irrevocably caught
A wind in which I have struggled
To and from seemingly for nought
I do not stand on solid ground
But I am caught in a current
My existence has been washed away
As I am caught in this torrent
I feel that I have been set aside
As I am lost in empty space
And now I’m securely locked away
Here in this sad forgotten place
My memory’s so worm-eaten
By all the gazes I’ve forgotten
If only my cells bars and walls
Were as decrepit and rotten
These walls construction is solid
And impenetrable as night
I am here alone caught in my coop
And I have no wings to use for flight
The Journey
By Johnny Calhoun
I have had birds of beauty
Embraces which I help in vain
No matter the birds beauty
Their flight was feathered in pain
I have walked up a long road
And stumbled back down the hill
I ate all I was given
But my hunger would not fill
Whether we laugh in the dark
Or choose to cry in the sun
All the laughing and crying
It’s only for tears and fun
When we finally reach the end
There’s no privilege or pay
Awaiting us will be no rest
Or bed for our heads to lay
The whole time we were running
We had failed to realize
The trophy for which we searched
Was passing before our eyes
Johnny Calhoun Q26629
Florida State Prison
P.O. Box 800
Raiford, FL 32083
My name is Johnny Calhoun and I am presently serving time on Florida’s death row.  
I am thirty-nine years old and enjoy writing poetry and short stories.  
Having been born and raised in rural Alabama, the country landscape etched in my memory sits in stark contrast to the concrete walls that now surround me on all sides.

Further Reading...

Art & Poetry By Jose De Anda

December 10, 2022

Poetry by Stevie Lamar Fields

November 13, 2010

Poetry by Michael Kent

February 27, 2023

1 Comment

  • Mia Chay Brown’s big sister
    May 11, 2025 at 12:05 am

    So interesting how he speaks so eloquently about hands, his hands yet he burned my sister while she was still alive so severely her hands were gone. Interesting enough he speaks of the life he’s not able to live when he forcibly and selfishly took hers. I have searched for years and thought I had found the forgiveness I so desperately wanted to bestow upon this gentleman, but it is on this platform on which he is allowed to share his hopes, his desires and his miss opportunities that I am struggling to find it. You say this is a creative outlet a place where he can express himself…. Please tell me where and how MIA may do the same?!? Forgiveness I hope to one day give(not for him but for myself), But do not confuse that with forgetfulness because my mind is like those concrete walls impenetrable and forever remembering the choice He made to take an innocent life and to then write “poetry” like something was taken from Him and that he sadly thinks of all the places he will never see or go. Mia was 23! Think of all she has missed, not seen or had the opportunity to do. The poems go right along with his actions, pure unapologetic selfishness.
    Now let’s see if this comment actually gets posted or is this just a safe place for murders to express themselves…..

    Reply

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