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Best Poems Written by Johny Roberts

Below are the all-time best Johny Roberts poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Johny Roberts Poem

Where Did You Go

Where did you go?

Where did you go?
Yesterday you were here,

But now you lie still
Your eyes closed,

Gentle face,
Facing up towards the sky,
Up towards the stars,

I know this is the way of things,
That we must all one day let go!

But still, we cry out,
Where did you go?

Your laugh, your knowing eyes,

Waiting for us,
Welcoming us with a smile,

It seems so clear,
standing here,

so quiet,

No more machines
clicking,
Everything surrendered,

We never knew how much time
was left?

But now we know,
It’s passed,

And as we push back your hair,
We see,

It’s time to
let you
go.

John Roberts (dedicated to my beautiful Mum)

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A Child Stands

The Tears of Gaia

Wash down over a silent place,
Washing clean our plastic, 
Our Empty cans, our debris,
Tears flowing gently over, 
Humanity’s darkest fruits,

A child stands with her arms outstretched,
Waiting for the winds to change,
Waiting for sun light to break through clouds,
For daylight to kiss tired sleeping skins, 
For Lost Poets, artists, visionaries, story tellers,
Myth makers, alchemists to awaken from their sleep;

She waits;

She waits for Healers to arise from their shallow graves,
For dreamers to dream us a new place, 
For lovers to show us how to kiss again,

For the healed, 

To allow the Tears of Gaia
to flow 
Freely once again.   

John Roberts

Details | Johny Roberts Poem

Transport For London Shaman

The TFL Shaman- A Journey Home.

Raindrops trickle down the misty train windows,
Obscuring views of coloured graffiti,
Works of passion sprayed on to embankment walls.
Bright colours splattered onto neglected structures,
Wild Statements of art,
Arising from the urban ashes of creativity.

Serious and distant faces find the protection,
In-ear plugs and Smartphones, from a carriage,
Painted in soulless grey and from fellow travellers,
Silhouetted against stark Fluorescent lighting,
From contact that might demand a human response.

Hopeful eyes, searching screens for some outreach of love,
Social media, this agency of sometimes silent desperation,
Of outsourced spirituality,
Paper castles and empty rooms,
Designed to steal us from the very now,
This very now, that would wake us,
From a digital nightmare.

Suddenly the sunlight slips through dark clouds,
Transforming the soulless city grey
Into instant beauty,
Sunlight bounces of wet sparkling windows,
Shafts of white light scatter across sky and
Concrete Landscapes, highlighting and making special
For just a moment, the ordinary.

And against a quietness,
Only disturbed by the rumbling train,
Comes the faint voice of a passenger singing.
Awkward feet shuffle as people turn away,
But as she sings, this TFL Shaman tears down a hidden vail,
And for a moment we stand exposed, real,
Scared others might see our pain.

Next stop, Chadwell Heath a soft voice says.
The doors fly open, and the TFL Shaman steps off,
Her glowing Red hair lifting gently in the breeze,
Her Shopping bags cutting into her small hands.

Outside In the warm summer sun, a blackbird sings with all its heart,
Falling silent for a moment, and then sings again.

John Roberts

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Southwold I Love You

Southwold (Suffolk).
 
 Dear Southwold

 How I love to visit you,
 To stand barefoot,
 On your bright yellow sandy beaches,
 To stand and admire your pretty streets,
 Your glowing white Lighthouse,
 and your quirky Pier.
 
 Your cottage homes
 Framed like calendar pictures,
 Decorated with,
 Striking lavender gardens,
 Gardens that smell,
 Like a small piece of heaven.
 
Your Front room windows,
 That draw in,
 Visiting Strangers eyes,
 Eyes that long to glimpse into
 someone else’s
 World.
 
 But Southwold,
 There is something missing now.
 Like a silent person,
 Whom has lost their song,
 Your homely cottages,
 and Victorian shop fronts,
 Now just a Theaters stage,
 For the rich,
 and their Summer homes.
 
 For when Autumn leaves start to fall,
 and the dark clouds of winter,
 Descent upon your tidy streets,
 The sound of laughing children,
 Parents shouting,
 Old people chatting,
 They have all gone.
 
 For now,
 These Suffolk bricks,
 The playthings
 of a wealthy few,
 To rent out or Second homes,
 Changing rooms for the beach,
 For dinner parties.
 To Wipe clean sandy feet,
 and to sleep off the summer sun.
 
 But Southwold,
 I still love you,
 And I wish to return,
 To stand and pick summer lavender,
 From your cottage gardens,
 To Roll it gently between my fingers,
 Until its oils leak out,
 and provide me,
 With a small glimpse
 Of Heaven.
 
John Roberts August 2017

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Better To Love

Nothing stays the same,

We sing, we dance,
We weep,

And we grieve for what was,
For what might be,

And so we love,
For it's better to love,

We dance,
For it's better to dance,

And we chase the end of rainbows,

Better this,

Then stand at the side,
And just

Watch.


John Roberts

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And They Say, the Darkest Hour Is Just Before the Dawn

And they say,
The darkest hour
Is just before the dawn,

Before the glow of morning sunlight,
Can break a night time spell,

And they say,
The darkest hour
Is just before the dawn,

When night time feels it has no end,
And on our knees, we pray for the day,

And they say,
The darkest hour
Is just before the dawn,

Just before,

The sky starts to glow,

And the Blackbird
Sings,

John Roberts

Details | Johny Roberts Poem

Message To the Future

To the Future

What would they have done if they had known?
Would they have let the Earth burn,

Let Eco-Systems shut down before their very eyes?

Would they have watched,
As men, women,

Faces hidden,
Cut down our trees,

Forests levelled,
Burnt to the ground

Tell me,

Would they have chained them self
to a fence?

Sat and blocked roads in front of their Parliament?

And cried tears as brothers, sisters
are carried off?
in screaming vans to pay their price.

Or maybe;

They would have stood by helpless,
and just watched;

As a million shades of Life become decimated,
and the human race,

Drowns
in a passive ignorance?

John Roberts

Details | Johny Roberts Poem

Skating On Solid Ice

Stretching forward, 
To test the ice,
I pull back, 
Scared the ice may fracture, 

Scared I might fall into, 
The cold dark, dreamless, 
Abyss below. 

Turning  to walk away,
I watch the Sunlight sparkle  
Across the polished  lake,

And I think of you,

How it had been, 
When we  first danced, 
Our hearts in our Hands, 

Across the frozen lake, 
We slid and twirled, 
Frictionless,

Free on Solid ice,

Safe with a love 
We never thought 
To question.

And as rays of moonlight,
Illuminated  the frozen night, 

Our minds Melted, 
All doubts dissolved,

No Today or Tomorrow,
Day or night,
Only this moment.
 
But now as the spring sun, 
Lifts higher into a deep blue sky, 
New warmth, 
Claims back, 
Last winter’s gains,

And yesterday’s certainties
Slowly melt away,

Perhaps when the ice,
Becomes strong once more,
and a glowing moon,
Reveals itself, 

With Crystal rays, 
that pierce through, 
Dark Silver edged,  
Snowy  clouds,

I will find you,
Out there, 

Just you,
Dancing in the golden light,

No other dancers, 
No other longing eyes,
To tempt, 
or steel,
Our gaze.

Just us,

Free to dance, 
Spinning,
On solid Ice.

John Roberts (October 2017)

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I Did Not Know of This Pain

For I didn’t know,

I didn’t know of,
This fire of pain, 

From the fingers, the hands,
the feet,

Can’t stand up,
Can’t lay down,

Dreaming, 
Longing for my body to  float away on water,

For this pain to melt away,
For a healer to lay down their gentle hands
on me,

To  lift me up again,
So once again I might see the stars,

Breathe the summer air,

For I did not know,
I did not know of this Pain.

Soon through the cracks, 
Through the partially open curtains,

I hope for the morning light to find its way to me,

For the long shadows of night to be in retreat,

Then,
I will
callout 
for
Help.

John Roberts 
(I had a flare-up recently of Rheumatoid arthritis and I wrote this poem to give expression to the experience and for all people suffering pain. 
Pain can seem even greater at night when the world is still outside)

Details | Johny Roberts Poem

Tears of Gaia

Tears of Gaia

Across the majestic mountain tops,
Down on the valleys floors, Drifting in the oceans,
Floating in the air, Buried in the deep Earth,
The whispering songs of Gaia,
Bind all Life on Earth.

A beautiful glowing ball suspended in the dark,
Shinning like a sparkling jewel, in this universe desert crown.
A tapestry of life, worth more than any wealth can buy,
But with the human face of Gaia tears are being shed,
The tapestry of Life is unraveling, 
its intricate woven threads.

Have we forgotten or did we ever know?
Each of us is born, from these dusty earthen lands,
Dust shaped into form, Risen Homo sapiens,
Standing upright, eyes to the stars,
Ascending from the Waters,
Wandering, often lost, transcended dreamers,
Searching for our Promised Land.

John Roberts