Home » Poems » Best » Neil Johns » Best Neil Johns Poems

Best Poems Written by Neil Johns

Below are the all-time best Neil Johns poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Neil Johns Poem

Seven Variations On the Opening Line of a Senryu

seven variations on the opening line of a senryu

“We seek the teeth to match our wounds”.
Kenneth Tynan

sometimes what we seek
is not necessarily
the final answer

sometimes what we seek
is the unfound, the profound
beyond dreams and hopes

sometimes what we seek
is the truth and nothing but
the awful sad truth

sometimes what we seek
is what we were prescribed
not what we wanted

sometimes what we seek
is bigger than our bellies
bigger than our minds

sometimes what we seek
is a different equation
to age old problems

sometimes what we seek
is inside us all the time
waiting to be found.

27.2.2010

Details | Neil Johns Poem

Advice To My Younger Self

Listen to this advice, this is good advice
If you can’t be honest, be nice
Don’t spend unnecessary money
Don’t call girls chicks or honey
Be not afraid to speak the truth
And don’t ever ask “what’s the use?”
Be the best person you can be
Frequently succumb to sentimentality
Whatever you do don’t carry a knife
Resist the urge to find a wife
Believe in your job or don’t be there
Listen, plead, explain you care
Whistleblow if you think it right
But be prepared to take on a fight
Know your limits and limitations
Your best, your worst, your imitations
Choose your football team wisely 
Or disappointment you’ll see
Don’t go get yourself a new car
Older ones are cheaper by far
Eat well, drink well, enjoy today
Or before you know it they’ll be away
Be proud of your town and country
Be as diplomatic as you can be
Don’t worship a false prophet
Get on the bus then get off it
Make your study the biggest room
Unless paid don’t pick up a broom
Contest misjustice and deny
Anyone’s mission to make you cry
Choose a pen and book to write in
Time for yourself is not a sin
Hold your shoulders up and true
Buy two suits, black and blue
Tell yourself often you have worth
Deny children, conception and birth
Remember fondly lost loves
Buy a decent coat, hat and gloves
Try experimenting in the kitchen
Get a stock pot, see what fits in
Know much, learn much and read
Don’t give yourself away to greed
Learn an instrument, organ, guitar
You never know you might go far
Remember who you are always
Look, don’t stare, look and gaze
Enjoy to excess once in a while
Always live and love and smile
Make opportunities for your health
This is my advice to my younger self.

Details | Neil Johns Poem

Dribbling

Dribbling

If someone continually gets knocked down
Eventually they will give up the ghost
If around every corner is more negativity
Which of us has lost the most?

Started to believe
More fool me
Be another page
In my sad history

Knock me back
I’m used to it
Should I care
Should I give a 

If you had me and lost me
How much did you lose?

I never dreamt this for you
But then, 
I never dreamt it for me,
Too

Never got beyond the opening gambits
The if's the that's
The why's and wherefore's
The dangled conversation
The fandangled expression
The ooh's the ah's
The more's the baa's
The ponderous the wonderful
The hip the snakey 
The half asleep
The wide awakey 
The shakers
The quakers
The jitterers
The poem makers
The right from wrongs
The singers the songs
The left from right
The right from not-so

You never understood
None of you
Never had a clue

Poem as
Cathartic expression
Class dismissed
End of lesson

I’ve told you a thousand times
Don’t exaggerate 
And if you’re not early
Don’t be late

Mind your p’s and q’s
Your x y z’s and your w’s
Let it flow
Let it grow
Mind what’s going on 
Down below
Every sperm is sacred
Monty Python taught us so

How long’s a rollercoaster
Compared to a sapling
If you think about
Why is money happening

Haven’t had this much fun
In years and years
Still wondering about sweetcorn
WTF? Ears, ears?

Just letting my mind
Cleanse itself
Nothing left
On the shelf
There’s an infinite number
Of poems to be written
If I call this one,
Will it be forgiven?
I’m here and now
Ducking and fighting
A paper bag
Doesn’t come when writing

There was an old poet called Neil
Who wrote something for the thrill
Everyone groaned 
Some even moaned
At poor Neil Neil orange peel

Don’t worry
I’ll get me coat 
Not wanted here
I won’t get the goat

There’s barely a day goes by
Without me trying to marry
Sigh with my
I wonder why
This butterfly
The poems cry
And if I’m high
Or do or die
I’ll fly
Aye
I’ll fly
Aye
For the end is nigh…

PS
There’s a reason for this coda
Nothing to do with odour
But I’m not going to tell you
Or give you a clue
The best poems are written
To make you think,
I think.

28.4.2022 9:06am

Details | Neil Johns Poem

D Poem

This damned domain of dominoes destined to fall
This doddering diatribe deliberately designed
This dwelling damp as deadwintered Darlington
This deeper dream of dungeons and dragons

This desperate dirge of dying deliberations
This drum droll as December’s daylight done
This decorated delightful deck of diamonds
This driven date that doomsday deselected

This dotted, dashed diary of dark desperation
This demystified danger we dryly decompress
This dead, defunct day that drew disgust
This damned domain of dominoes all fallen down.

17.4.2022     6pm

Details | Neil Johns Poem

Boxful of Scotland Souvenirs At a Car Boot Sale

boxful of Scotland souvenirs at a car boot sale

a life’s possessions
in thirty or so boxes
from the back of a white Transit

knick-knacks from Scotland
a wee man with ginger hair
tam o’shanter
and a corkscrew 

a picture of Ben Nevis
with all the red vibrancy
sucked out of it
by years of rising suns
through flat windows

a toilet roll holder
from Edinburgh
cartoon spider and an inscription
taken straight from Robert Bruce
“if at first you don’t succeed,
 try, try again”

an empty whisky bottle
shaped like a hand bell
a small bundle of colourised postcards
in brown, green and purple
of the Scottish Highlands
a tea towel with a stubborn brown stain
of the Isle of Skye
a pint glass with a colour scene
lettered Aberd—n
and a dried bunch of heather
bound by a tartan ribbon
from the banks of Loch Ness
that bunch of heather,
forty six years picked
owned from honeymoon to death

thirty or so boxes
of worthless detritus 
to rummage and ransack
on a summer Sunday morning
a life lived
in one of thirty boxes.

6.6.2011
revised 6.6.2022    6:45am

Details | Neil Johns Poem

If the Poem

if the poem tastes too sweet
add a pinch of salt

if the poem tickles you
wear medieval armour

if the poem hits a nerve
numb yourself into submission

if the poem scratches you
place gloves upon its hands

if the poem is angry
placate it, talk it down

if the poem reflects your life
consider it autobiographical 

if the poem is abstract, phonetic
grm, drm, frm, (e)ko, da(k)

if the poem is hungry
feed it typewriter ribbons

if the poem copies e.e.cummings
does it, said he/she

if the poem sets off fireworks
take away its matches

if the poem thinks dictionary
tell it to exeunt 

if the poem blames others
remind it of its responsibilities 

if the poem dangles over the edge
push the b*stard in

if the poem is rude, lewd, crude
teach it some manners

if the poem ejaculates
make it clean it up itself

if the poem colourises 
show it the value of monotone

if the poem bawls like a baby
smother it, drown it

if the poem gets sent to jail
let it fester, let it rot

if the poem was written by you
then you are a liar

if the poem fades away
let it go and know

if the poem says “and another thing”
then I advise deafness...

July 1996

Details | Neil Johns Poem

Free Verse Poem

You want a poem?
I’ll give you a poem!
All words and meanings
Slightly odd leanings
A pinch of this
A sprinkle of that
All chucked randomly
In a velvet top hat
A fistful of stars
And topped with whipped cream
Nothing is ever as it would seem
It’s a bit of nonsense
Which is no and sense

Do you ever read a word,
So many times
That it sounds wrong
Placed in rhymes
Words, huh, what are they good for?
They mean less, they mean more

Sorry if I’m wandering
It’s just I was wondering
How long this could be
The poem I write in front of me
Do I stop it now
Or now, somehow
Keep driving nails in
Until I spin
Out of control
And back down my hole

This is my calling
This is what I do
Put words together
And give them to you
Sorry if my free verse take
Has made you think me fake
I just started typing
Then found myself hyping
Words and rhythms
That-isms and this-isms

PS has anyone come up with a poem
Dedicated to rhyming with orange?

26.4.2022 8:50am

Details | Neil Johns Poem

The Price of a Poem

what’s the price of a poem
in cash, blood, sweat and tears
what experience suffered
how many months and years

what’s it worth to you
and will you be touched, pleased 
will it explain, elucidate
will all your fears be eased

and did you see it coming
and appreciate it’s being
I think I wrote it for you
you are seeing what you’re seeing 

if everything I ever
wrote, thought, memorised 
came flooding back to haunt
I would be traumatised

and the pain that brings
the poem, screaming
tricks me into thinking
I was only ever dreaming

so, what’s the price of a poem
a collection of words skewed
up, down, all over the place
studied, read, discarded, viewed

it’s not the sentiment you leave
when you close the book
that moment came, happened, went
and you had to look

poems? ten a penny
a sad f*cker scribbling
giving his best, his darkest
and left dribbling

psst, want to buy a poem?
it’s price is negotiable
it won’t change your world
and is not guaranteed reliable.

18.1.2020 11:13am

Details | Neil Johns Poem

Becoming Dust

will you still be at my side
when my teeth have dropped like rotten apples
and bleeding, shrunken gums form a smile
will you still want me
as my waistline expands
and my belt buckle becomes obscured
will you still need me
when sounds once clear trail away
and I stare like a mad priest to hear.

will you accept me for me
and not wish for a cardboard cut-out
devoid of sensibility and personality
will you remember
that my tea should be weak and sweet
yet my spirit will be strong and sour
and make a note of my romanticism
(if you find it please return)
I’ll forget birthdays and anniversaries for sure.

will you still desire me
when I am old and bent and wizened
cackling politics, inflation, foreigners
when my poems become vicious slogans
venomously scrawled onto bare paper
as I forget my way in our bedsit
as I forget our shopping on the bus
will you still love me
as I slowly turn into dust?

Details | Neil Johns Poem

Because - Version 2, Stanza 1

(this is the first verse of 10 I started in January 1997 and substantially revised in April 2010 some 12 years ago. I think it’s still growing.

because morning comes and daylight happens
because yesterday may well be put right
because there were better memories (remember)
because truth was not always to the fore
because whatever is said is said regardless
because things do go wrong, awry, fall apart
because two plus two does equal four
because the rumours had more truth than lies
because a minute is divided into sixty seconds
because damnation and salvation are opposites
because life itself isn’t always as expected 
because memories linger and you can’t change them
because people starve, hurt, cry, feel pain
because you’re ridiculed, stoned, hit, beaten
because tomorrow may bring a bunch of flowers
because waiting is significant though it may not seem
because the city will stand long after you’re gone
because three million words don’t change one action
because one word is sometimes more than enough
because criticism stings and praise goes ignored
because balance is subjective, open to argument
because the fool suffers in an angry cloud of smoke 
because theories are dispelled with a flick of the wrist
because my left hand writes lines fast as you like
because a measured footstep is a social statement
because from tiny acorns grow massive oaks
because this poem is mine it can say what it likes
because a walk in the park clears the head
because alcohol sends the doubts spiralling
because, because, because, because…

most recently 24.4.2010