Best Joyce Poems
I do not know you well, Joyce
But I know your poetry
And your character and kindness
Are there for all to see
Your words are crafted carefully
And phrased with acumen
So woven like a tapestry
Of dreams, both now and then
Your brush is filled with imagery
Your canvas made of joy
Your poetic voice sings sweetly
With the care that you employ
Your temperance is gracious
With an empathy, profound
And all who read or know you
Are blessed to have you 'round
You write with such exuberance
And give to us, the same
So, it isn't any wonder
That "joy" is in your name
While I have never met you
I pray this poem imparts
My soul, which you have softened
Just one of many hearts
And perhaps, if I can query
Just one more grace of you
You'll share your words with us
Another century or two ...
All the best of wishes, friend ...
You are true POET ... through-and-through.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Happy 100th Birthday" Poetry Contest, Carolyn Devonshire, Sponsor.
Poetry
Aged eighty Joyce started to write
Her poems my senses ignite
Imagery so divine
I just wish it was mine
Great poetry brings such delight
Making Fudge
Joyce really loves making fresh fudge
I wonder if I give Joyce a nudge
She will send to me
Her fudge recipe
From my kitchen I would not budge!
Tulip Parade
Without Joyce being sat in her seat
The parade would not be complete
Gardens Joyce does promote
On the flower club float
Her zest for life cannot be beat!
Gardening club
Joyce travels to state garden shows
Her knowledge of plants overflows
It would be a great idea
In her centenary year
To honour her name with a rose
100th Birthday
All soupers we must now rejoice
And shout out with united voice
That we just want to say
Have happy Birthday
To a fabulous poet named Joyce
Happy 100th Birthday Contest
Sponsored by Carolyn Devonshire
4/18/18
Well, what can I say to help you celebrate such a momentous day!
I would like to speak about the things I know best about you Joyce,
That would be your gracious gift of splendorous poetry you share.
I ordered your poetry book 'Lifetime Memories in Verse' a delight!
Your poem 'The perfect Age' sums up 'loving the age you are living.'
Such is a glimpse of the wisdom you have to offer your readers.
Your love of your mother shines a bright light in 'Mother's Tender Care'.
The tender poems you have written to celebrate the love of your family,
Now being the last of your brothers and sisters left alive and alone,
The joy of your three children, the loss of your first-born son reveals
How your strength and faith helped you to deal with such deep sorrow.
Your sweet poems about your love of cats and dogs are so inspiring.
Your talented and charming poem 'The Blackberry and the Rose' just
Made me smile for a long while because these kind of poems linger.
You have gifted a legacy of your life's experiences for family and friends
That's wonderfully displayed in your book, and on the back cover I was
Delighted to discover a picture that shares the beauty of you, the poet,
A world of wisdom you share in your poetry, and your kind love for all.
Blessings for the best to you, Joyce, on your wonderful 100th birthday!
© Connie Marcum Wong
PS I will be having knee replacement surgery tomorrow, so I won't be
able to reply for a while.
I see you as you are here , oh! Lord
I need to be with you , dear Jehovah God!
Today ,tomorrow and forever !
Forever , forever and forever!
You are my happiness,
You are my Joyce,
You are my peace ,
You are my daily juice ,
You are my spicy foods,
You are the wise words.
I can say loud, loudly " I love you!"
Love you , love you , love you !
You are the only soap to wipe my heart!
My heart, my heart , my heart , my heart!.
May 07/ 2023
By Alfonso Warally Ngengethe
Mussabwa Chris
The frowning light of my desk lamp, the voice
of hell dissolved in strongest alcohol,
my drunk and naked shadow on the wall…
The printed wiki photo of James Joyce,
who died of stomach ulcer, shakes his head,
seeing I drink Laphroaig from the inkwell.
It is all right for you, James, you may well
speak of addictive practices: you’re dead,
you’ve been a famous novelist but I
yet have to be a famous and to die.
Life Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Ironic Zink
Thank you for your friend request.
Poem For my Poet friend Joyce Johnson.
MY WARM BEST WISHES FOR 4TH JULY TO ALL MY AMERICAN FRIENDS.
Dear Friend Joyce
I am unable to write back to you
Or even to send you a message
Due to technical reasons
I am sure
You would understand
Why.
I may leave that platform
In due course of time
Whatever big and famous it may be
Where freedom of writer
is controlled and crushed
Without any reasons and grounds
by the selfish interests of
The new rulers of internet and
By its prejudiced guards.
In my long associations
With my PS friends and even other friends
I have never used any language or
even words against any person, country, religions or
friend both male and female,
so it would not be a loss to me
Rather I would have more time
for my Musical Yoga, Paintings, Song writing and
Singing etc and other things.
With best wishes for you and
your good health and
Best wishes for all my poetry soup friends.
Ravindra
Kanpur India 3rd july 2021
PoetryForm:Apostrophe
Oh, Joyce
(A salute to Joyce Kilmer)
How could you know of molten skies
burning my skin to fiery glow
as trails of sweat ran ever down,
except to walk the same hard row?
You must have lifted flaming face
to catch the waft of cooling flow
as leaves stirred air upon your neck
bent down to guide the whack of hoe.
You must have stood beneath its arms
and held your frame secure inside
a shade cast out by wide-swept limbs
to draw sweet breath upon a sigh.
Your pictured trees bespoke my heart
your words remained a lifelong song.
Each time I viewed a splendid tree
came once again warm thoughts of thee.
Though faith is rare in Darwin’s sphere
your message still rings loud and clear.
Poems are made by fools like me
but only God can make a tree.
How scenic is phrenetic fantasy
Which fulminates within the manic mind
Yet hides inside synaptic revelry,
Articulated, yes, but hard to find?
The minor absolution one demands
From higher born authority than self
Is often found in foreign sounding lands
Or back of boxes hiding on the shelf.
The madness of the mad though sad is not
Without a nod transcendent, in a way;
Which forces Joyce to ponder over plot
And not which punctuation to display.
Now take your time and read Ulysses first,
Before the Wake of Finnegan is shown;
For Finnegan becomes eternal thirst
Where cognitive resolve remains unknown.
Now bitter battles still are fought with fire
In hallowed halls of higher learning fame
Where academic's fight against desire
To elevate James Joyce's brilliant name.
Finnegan's Wake can make a man go mad;
Incomprehensible at best, some say.
Such genius has a way of causing sad
Reverberations all along the way.
So read a Portrait of the Artist first
Then add Ulysses if you have the need;
But Finnegan's Wake - unquenchable thirst
A book to blow your brain and make it bleed.
Let’s hear those chimes
And raise a glass
A toast to Joyce
A cause for celebration
A tribute to a grand
Centennial milestone
One hundred candles on her cake
And not one less
One candle for every set of seasons
She’s ever savored
It’s her birthday
And what a special day it is
Imagine if at this party
Here with us
Everyone was present
Whose lives she’s touched
Whose hearts she warmed with kindness
Whose souls she lifted with her words
Whose days were brightened with her smile
Whose nights were enchanted with her poetry
Just imagine, Joyce
Just imagine…
From all of us and all of them
A warm and grateful embrace
To you, dear Joyce
Happy 100th birthday !
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Submitted on April 13, 2018 on contest HAPPY 100TH BIRTHDAY sponsored by CAROLYN DEVONSHIRE - RANKED 5TH
Joyce K
There is this Lady I know, I thought I knew.
Could I have been so wrong, from my point of view ?
She perceives herself, a cardboard silhouette of a soul,
a papier mache doll, an image we all should know.
A shallow pond residing in the middle of this human ocean
is how she sees herself to be – a very strange notion
for me to comprehend as I look into the depths of her mind
and reflect upon all I know, that has shown her to be so kind,
deep, thoughtful, caring - giving her all throughout
her living a life of advocacy, concern and no doubt,
much, much more than I know or of my word
- in this attempt at poetry – that she might have heard.
This Lady with such a fine mind – a model for man kind –
who looks back in time, within, and cannot seem to find
one moment in a long ( seventy eight years ) life time
to recall, remember, feel her humanness in a flake of love,
a speck of joy, a line of happiness, a pool of blissfulness from above,
a stream of contentment, satisfaction for and from all the good
she has done for this world of troubled mankind, where he stood
the self. the self-satisfied, the self-destructive, and the lost.
I want to believe she has known a flake, a speck. a line tossed,
a pool, a stream and that these have been a part of her experience.
Are known, if not in the conscious, in the subconscious existence.
Is she to be, not but – as we look upon and within – veneer ?
A mosaic overlay on cardboard papier mache, she wants us to hear.
Not a mighty Oak, Maple, Mahogany, Teak, Burl just a paper doll.
Is this the carefully contrived image she believes ?, is this her fall
from grace ?, she thinks herself to be ?, - not the beauty of soul, of acts,
of the face I know, - but a mask to hide what?/, what are the facts ?
Is she this hollow, empty cardboard papier-mache doll ?, devoid
of feelings, of love, just walking through life, living it, must avoid.
I think not, nor can I – not even in my wildest of dreams believe
or perceive of such possibilities - but then, who am I to conceive,
to question the perception of the one who should truly know
herself, intimately better than anyone else on this planet could show.
So all these assumptions I have put out there, I should retrieve.
B. J. “A” 2
May 14th 2005
a shooting star
crosses the heavens. . .
lands in traffic
I think that I have never known
a tree as lovely as a poem.
A poem that in a single breath
infuses life, defying death
with words that move in stylish grace
and give emotion resting place.
A poem reflecting life and love
and faith, perhaps, in He above
who gave the world the lovely tree
and the gift of rhyme to fools like me.
Though God made trees and I, this poem,
within its lines I find my home.
Dear Joyce, you've reached a milestone attained by very few!
I reJoyce at this accomplishment and offer my congrats to you!
Joining the elite Centenarian Fraternity is indeed very rare;
I hope you enjoy many more years of writing is my ardent prayer!
Your poetry flows from your talented quill like honey from a jar!
You've set high standards for others and raised high the poetic bar.
Your encouragement and support for me I shall ever treasure;
Reading your inspirational verse has given me many hours of pleasure.
When your work on earth is o'er, God will reward you with a crown,
Saying, "Welcome Joyce, you served Me and My people with great renown!"
Entry for Carolyn Devonshire's "Happy 100th Birthday" Contest
It was at Christmas time that she invited me to her home
This wonderful Northwest lady that I feel I’ve always known
Her coffee pot was brewing as I entered her living room
To find her tree adorned with an angel who had died too soon
Little Joycie was but a child when God called her back to him
As we shared a cup, tales of our past and future were woven
A grandmother with a gift for words reached out and touched my heart
I brought a hand-made Christmas stocking, hoping joy to impart
A special connection I made with this talented poet
To be able to call her a friend, I am blessed and I know it
Written by Carolyn Devonshire and Dedicated to Super Souper Joyce Johnson
For Michael's "First words over coffee" contest
retourne
Fully relying on God's sovereign grace,
spurning no more what she knows is His light,
Joyce has made a pledge - let God set the pace.
He'll help her win though she runs without sight.
Spurning no more what she knows is His light,
quickly renouncing all "right" to success,
gaining the courage God brings to this fight,
mission's ordained she once prayed He’d suppress.
Joyce has made a pledge - let God set the pace,
lifted in heart, she is filled with suspense.
Trusting His perfect support, she will face
mocking rejection from some on the fence.
He'll help her win though she runs without sight
welcoming limits, esteeming God's cost.
He'll track the course; she’ll depend on his might
awed by the treasure which she might have lost.
31 Jan 2015
for Judy Konos, Write a Poem contest
after reading Joyce Johnson's poems: Faith Is a Wonderful Thing and God's Wonders