Poetry and Creative Writing for All

Jackie Johnson

Winner of our Top 5 Poets of September 2004 Online Competition

I am 56 years old and started writing poetry in 1995. I saw a poetry competition advertised and thought 'I can do that!'. So I did. I didn't win but got published and that started an erratic stream of poems.

Like many others, I find it better than counselling for relieving deep feelings about different episodes in my life - good and bad. I write serious poems and funny ones, but often find myself writing an entirely frivolous ending to a poem that started off very serious! 

A word or a phrase will set me off writing. For example, it was Monty Don in a Gardeners World Special on allotments that brought forth 'Bottoms Up', apart from which my husband has an allotment so I know it's all true! Losing my beloved dog was heartbreaking, and it all poured out about 18 months later, one poem after the other.

Forward Press, God bless them have published quite a few of my poems and that gave me a lot of confidence in myself to go on producing.

The Allotment

Down in Needham Market, but I'll not tell you where
There's a place where men spend half their time with their bums up in the air

You might ask what they're doing, have they been this way from birth?
Are they in touch with spirits or communing with mother earth?

Well spirits are invisible and if it's those they see
It's more likely to be the whisky, inside their flask of tea

You have to be a special kind, to enjoy the scent of sewer
For not many get excited about a pile of pig manure

There are lots of home made gadgets and known tricks of the trade
Involving plastic carriers and bottles of lemonade

There are lines of old CDs, flashing signals into space
I don't know who's receiving them but of my neighbour there's no trace

There are water troughs and garden sheds, all with country views
The only thing that's missing is a set of public loos

So never ask a man what he's doing behind a shed
Or he might turn round to tell you, and you'll see for yourself instead

They let their onions dangle and measure each other's beans
And if no-one else is looking, they'll inspect another's greens

They don't enter competitions or go in for a prize
But the length of someone's marrow, can bring tears to another man's eyes

There are evil smelling potions made of nettles and old weeds
Closely guarded secrets essential to their needs

They are used to douse the land, to increase fertility
Some splashed on a local girl and she gave birth to three

They say if you come at midnight at the time of Halloween
With all the ghosts and ghoulies, there's a sight not often seen

For dancing round the water trough as naked as the day
Are the men with their very own ghoulies giving a ballroom display

But it's just the annual barbecue, of the allotment club
They have to hold it here because they're banned from every pub

Colour Blind

I dream of a world where all men are wise
And people are born colour blind
For some things we see have no need of eyes
Colour is all in the mind

There is only love when a child is born
It knows not the colour of skin
The child learns through life to abuse and scorn
Hate stirred up from within

Prejudice raises it's ugly head
Handed down from father to son
This tunnel of vision is family bred
And an intricate web is spun

Of warped ideas and old wives tales
And folk lore taken as truth
When chinese whispers and rumours prevail
It sows seeds in the minds of youth

Children believe what their parents say
Propaganda of days gone by
But their minds should be free to turn away
And ask the question - Why?

Why does colour make a difference at all
And is white really better than black
Why we assume white is born to rule
Why do we always look back

Why can't we see we are all the same
Equal in body and mind
The colour of skin is not to blame
For the failings of mankind

It will take time but the future will show
A willingness to unite
Barriers will fall and respect will grow
To harmonise black with white

It's Only Daddy

It's that time of year when he dons Santa's gear
And delivers his children's toys
But a day on the drink and his brain just can't think
If his kids are girls or boys
He eats the mince pie and drains the glass dry
Really getting into the role
But he can't find the stairs, he's drunk - and who cares ?
After all, he's a merry old soul
He's high as a kite, turns left and not right
Everything seems a blur
The lady next door, fell flat on the floor
When he waved his credentials at her
His dog gave a bark, 'cos he glowed in the dark
His fairy lights twinkled and shone
The dog went for his beard, which was really quite weird
'Cos he'd forgotten to put one on
With a mischievious grin, he breathed deeply in
Which caused his trousers to fall
He took off his vest and flaunted his chest
Then left his boots in the hall
Looking wrinkled and chewed, he stood in the nude
And decided to sing a carol
He laid on a chair, with his legs in the air
And started on " Roll out the barrel "
He jingle his bell, his lights flashed as well
His baubles began to sway
He had no idea, who the people were here
Where he was, or the time of day
His wife said " Look here, it's the same every year
You make yourself look a pratt
The children think, Santa's turned to drink
And arrives just wearing a hat
Well, I've had enough, so you can stuff
Your sack - where the sun don't shine
You can stick your holly, where it ain't so jolly
Or else I'm gonna resign ! "
He was silenced at last by an icy blast
Of ice cubes dropped on his head
She put out his light, crushed his bells with delight
And left him all night in the shed

Missing You

I miss you in the autumn, when the leaves begin to fall
And the dewy mists hang diamonds in my hair
I miss you in the winter, when Jack Frost sets out his stall
And the trees stand so majestic and so bare
I miss you in the summer, when the flowers stand so tall
Like perfumed jewels they scent the evening air
But I miss you most in springtime, when the cuckoo starts to call
For this was when I walked alone, the first time you weren't there

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