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Best Joyce Johnson Poems

Below are the all-time best Joyce Johnson poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

View ALL Joyce Johnson Poems

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Details | Joyce Johnson Poem

Mother's Apron

Mother wore an ample apron
to cover her clean dress.
She'd tell you that's what it was for
if you asked her, I would guess.

But that apron had more uses
than I could even count.
It brought in eggs and vegetables
and could hold a large amount.

I've seen her use that apron
to wipe her dripping brow
as she labored over the big range
that's just an antique now.

Her apron could bring giggles
in a game of peek-a-boo
with her newest, sweet grandbaby
as she hid her face from view.

When we kids were hurt or crying
we'd run to find her lap.
She'd wipe the falling tears away
with a bit of apron flap.

That apron dusted tables
and shooed away the flies.
It did just fine as oven mitts
to take out bubbling pies.

But the greatest of the treasures
that old apron could hold,
was the endless love from Mother
abiding in each fold.


Won 2nd place


Details | Joyce Johnson Poem

Wild Love

The blackberry's love for the garden rose
Brought down the gardener's wrath.
The blackberry sensed the danger
As he wended the garden path.

" A love so true as mine", he sighed,
"Must dare to brave the hoe.
Just a few more feet to reach her,
My true love she must know."

He crept along so quietly,
Sometimes quite out of sight
Until he nudged his darling's feet.
Did he dare to trust the light?

He heard the gardener's heavy boot
And hid in craven shame.
He knew he'd soon be weeded out,
A seedling with no name.

"Have I no worth since I don't rate
Some Latin nomenclature?
Without a well known parentage
Am I a freak of nature?

His darling's line was long and pure,
No skeletons in her past.
He had to make his feelings known.
Those boots were treading fast.

Gently then he wrapped his vine
Around his loved one's spine.
In great amazement he opined,
"Her thorns are sharp as mine".

The sweet rose felt his tender touch
And realized his fear
And wondered at his bravery
In coming to her here.

She heard the swishing of the hoe,
She heard those nearing feet.
Quietly letting down her leaves 
In a manner so discreet

She covered her wild lover.
The gardener unaware,
Stopped but to view her beauty.
He saw naught hiding there.

She whispered, "You are safe now".
The blackberry's heart was light,
Thankful that his dear sweet rose
Had not exposed his plight.

"A rose is still a rose." she said,
"By any other name
And in our distant ancestry,
We share some of the same".

"I'd rather know your wild love,
Than a love that's dull and tame,"
Cuddling close, returned his kiss
Without a bit of shame.

Next season there were seedlings
Of a very different kind.
The gardener delighted, cried
"A horticultural find."

The moral of this story?
Things aren't always what they seem.
The love you look down on today,
Could be tomorrow's dream.




Details | Joyce Johnson Poem

Super Bowl Day

They're playing in the bowl tomorrow
and we are so very proud.
We Seahawk fans are loyal
and also very loud.
We'll be settled by our TV sets
before the game begins.
We'll stay for the fifth quarter
no matter which side wins.
I'm thinking of my men folks
who had cheered them through the years.
Are they watching them from Heaven
and applauding with loud cheers?

The Seahawk's  franchise was formed
back in Nineteen Seventy-Six.
My husband and four brothers
would yell like lunatics
when the Seahawks added to their score
And it seemed as though they'd win.
I would look at them all yelling
and would shudder at the din.

Then when my son was older,
he joined that happy crew.
I threw in the towel and recognized
I would have to join them too.
They taught me all about first downs
and field goals and touch downs also
and many of the games intricacies
that a good fan needs to know.

My husband and my brothers
and even my loved son
have all gone on before before me
Their cheering on Earth is done.
I wish that they could be here
to see their loved team play.
Daughters and grandchildren will cheer with me
tomorrow on Super Bowl Day.

By: Joyce Johnson


Details | Joyce Johnson Poem

Twelve Months

January brash and bold,
Brings the worst of winter's cold.
February's stay is brief,
Green sprouts showing some relief.

March may come in like a lamb
And soon become ferocious ram.
Changeling April flirts a bit
And well may have a stormy fit.

We revel in the days of May
And beg her to extend her stay.
We could not bear she leave so soon
Did she not bequeath us, lovely June.

When perfection comes, it comes in June
While July plays a hotter tune.
August can be warmer still.
September brings a welcome chill.

October can go either way
With cooler night and warmer day.
November comes with wind and rain
Predicting winter's wrath again.

December brings the holidays
Silver bells and Christmas plays.
These happy times help us forget,
About December's snow, a bit.

Accept each month the best you can.
God needs them for His yearly plan.

By: Joyce


Details | Joyce Johnson Poem

Mama's Apron

Mamma wore an ample apron To cover her clean dress. She’d tell you that’s what it was for If you’d asked her, I would guess. But that apron had more uses Than I could even count. It brought in eggs and vegetables And could hold a large amount. Her apron could bring giggles In a game of peek-a-boo With her newest, sweet grandbaby As she hid her face from view. That apron dusted tables And shooed away the flies And did just fine as oven mitts To take out bubbling pies. But the greatest of the treasures That old apron could hold Was the endless love from Mamma Abiding in each fold. Won a no. 1 in John's contest.


Details | Joyce Johnson Poem

Welcome Carolyn

Please come in dear Carolyn.  I am thoroughly delighted.
Since I heard that you were coming I’ve been happily excited.

It was so kind of Michael to arrange that we should meet.
You’re exactly as I pictured you, both beautiful and sweet.

Let’s have coffee in my garden underneath the cloudless sky.
It’s April in my Northwest home. We’re so lucky it is dry.

The tulip tours have started, as has salmon fishing season.
The nearby Skagit holds the big ones, catching one’s not out of reason.

We’ll have our lunch and then start touring Skagit Valley tulip farms.
I want to show you quaint LaConner and explore all of it charms.

By: Joyce Johnson  lLWon first place

Welcoming Carolyn Devonshire in Michaels's "First Words Over Coffee" contest.


Details | Joyce Johnson Poem

When All I've loved

When all whom I have loved are gone,
Dear Lord, when I'm the only one
Who cares if I should live or die,
When there is no one left to cry,
Then Lord, take me.

But if there is a single soul
For whom I play important roll,
Who might just stumble, lose his way
Without my guidance through the day,
Then I would be

Content to stay another while,
To give him courage, bring a smile,
Teach him to look to You above
For truest guidance, purest love
His way to see.

Then I would say, "My work is done.
On Earth there is no other one
Who needs the love I have to give.
No reason now for me to live.
Dear Lord, take me."


By:  Joyce Johnson


Details | Joyce Johnson Poem

Butterfly Kisses

Butterfly kisses on his head
On that beautiful, early morn,
Welcoming him into the world,
My adorably, sweet first-born.

Butterfly kisses on his neck.
He'd giggle at feathery touch.
Butterfly kisses told him that
His mama loved him very much.

All through his earliest childhood
We kept playing this happy game.
I gave him butterfly kisses 
And he returned the very same.

Babies turn into teenagers
And a little kiss on the cheek
Was the most that he could manage
And was all that I dared to seek.

And then as he grew tall and older
Another claimed all his kisses.
He had forgotten all about
Our game of butterfly kisses.

The saddest time of all my life
When they told me my son had died.
Forgotten were butterfly kisses
In the million of tears I cried.

But when I'm tending my garden
A butterfly lands on my cheek.
I know that he has sent them
Those butterfly kisses I seek.


Details | Joyce Johnson Poem

Lost Words

Sometimes I catch them easily,
The words I'm reaching for;
At other times watch helplessly
As they crash to the floor.
I try to reassemble but
They've landed in a jumble.
I grab too fast for floaters and
My chair and I both tumble.

Susie thinks it is hilarious
And joins into the fun.
Before she hears my "stop", she has
Already swallowed one.
I am truly very sorry
There are no poems from me.
You will know why when I tell you
My dog ate my poetry.



Won 3rd place


Details | Joyce Johnson Poem

No Need for Divorce

King Henry VIII wed them
In order to bed them.
When they no longer suited
Had them executed.






For Catie's contest


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