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Best Poems Written by Betty Johnson

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

Details | Betty Johnson Poem

Turn the Pages Gramma

She used to wake me up in the middle of the night
"come out here and talk to me" ... I'd sigh and say "alright"
I'd sit beside her, on the couch, my legs tucked under me
she'd light her cigarette and then she'd start in with a story.

She'd tell me of her childhood, all the stories of her past
I'd listen, so enraptured, she tried to make them last
sometimes just an hour, sometimes till the sun came up
but I never tired of listening, I could never get enough.

Turn the pages Gramma, in your book of hopes and dreams
Take me with you Gramma, on your trip of memories
Turn the pages Gramma, I feel so close to you now
Turn the pages Gramma, take me back with you somehow.

Then came the day my sister called, said Gramma passed away
I held the phone up to my ear I didn't know what to say
I didn't want to believe her, I didn't want it to be true
I didn't get to say goodbye, I didn't say I love you.

But for a chance to say those things, Gramma came to me that night
One last time she woke me up, hair black and gown so white
She stood there in my doorway and waved a last goodbye
Though I knew she was alright I couldn't help but cry

I knew I would always love her and I'd miss having her around
and I knew I'd miss her stories, I wish I'd have written them down
No more will I hear her laughter, no more will I see her tears
I'm glad she gave me my own stories to pass down through the years.

Details | Betty Johnson Poem

Disillusioned

From the moment we met you took care of me
You made sure I had all I might need
You bought me drinks and you bought me flowers
You were trying so hard to succeed

First you won my heart, and then you won my body
I presented them gladly to you
You told me you loved me, that I was your world
So of course I thought I'd won you too

But then you moved in and the changing began
All though it was subtle at first
Yet still, we were married and now after eight years
I think this is you at your worst

Some women are guilty of trying to change
Their men into something they're not
But I would be happy if you'd just change back
I dont think that's asking a lot

You no longer defend me or make me feel special
I'm most likely expendable too
And I guess my thought process
doesn't work like yours does
I'd have taken that bullet for you.

Details | Betty Johnson Poem

Summerland

She loves her family... 
her husband, her children, her pups and kitty. 
She loves the color purple. 
She loves the Goddess, 
all her special potions in their fancy bottles and jars. 
All her spices and herbs, 
sorted so neatly, labeled and placed just so. 
Her candles in their holders placed in their places around her alter.
She gets angry when anyone litters.
 "We must all respect Mother Earth, 
she takes care of us, we need to take care of her."
She likes everyone she meets, until they give her a reason not to.
She showed me where the fairies live. 
She taught me to believe in them, 
lest they die.
From Mother Earth we came, thus to Mother Earth we must return. 
She returned.
She went to the Summerlands. 
She walks on grass so cool and green, 
butterflies and fairies flitting about, 
fragrant, sweet purple flowers 
so thick, you can't help but step on them, 
but when she turns around to look, she sees they are unhurt, 
it's as if noone had passed by at all... 
of course there are purple flowers... she loves purple.

Details | Betty Johnson Poem

The Soldiers Lullaby

She once walked with him and stopped with him
when they heard that familiar refrain.
She'd stand beside him while he'd salute
her pride for her Soldier was plain,

and every night, 
while he'd hold her tight
contented and happy, she'd sigh.
They would drift off to sleep
listening to the beat
of the Soldiers Lullaby.

They play the National Anthem
to fill us with fire and pride
and the last one they play every evening
is the Soldiers Lullaby.

Twice a day at nine eleven
when her Soldier was in Iraq
she'd bow her head in silence
to remember that September attack,

and when she'd get home in the evening
tired and lonely, she'd cry.
She'd pray that somewhere he was listening
to the Soldiers Lullaby.

Now she stands at the gate in the airport
heart pounding as Soldiers stream by,
so excited she can barely contain it
overwhelmed she's starting to cry,

and the crowd is beginning to thin now
the tears and the laughter all die,
heart broken and lonely, she stands there
when she hears his voice simply say "hi"...

It's been years since she's thought of that moment,
they've been busy with life passing by.
Two girls and two boys
now fill their lives with joy
and time really does seem to fly,

but at night when she's tucked in her family
she still bows her head with a sigh
and she never forgets to remember
The Soldiers Lullaby.

~For Jenn with love

Details | Betty Johnson Poem

My Tribute To Our Veterans

I was just a little girl when he went to Vietnam
Some went freely, other's were sent by someone called Uncle Sam
Some men ran to Canada, other's Mexico
Some were just to proud to run, like he, they had to go
To fight a war in which it really wasn't even our place
Only to come back home to find heartbreak and disgrace
Heartaches for their broken homes and lives that had gone awry
Is it any wonder that these men break down and cry?
They cry for all the time they've lost fighting in this war
We'll never know how much it's cost, nor even how much more
They'll have to suffer, day by day, for fighting so we wouldn't have to
These men faced our worse nightmares and that's how we said "thank you"?
They never got a waving banner, no ticker-tape parade
No "welcome home son", nor "job well done", no form of accolade
These were our fathers, husbands, sons, our classmates and our friends
For us this war is over, for them it never ends
I'm sorry, but to me it's personal, my dad went over there
I saw and felt what he went through and to say it wasn't fair
Is the biggest understatement of the century
They fought, they feared, they even died
so you and I could stay free
Now my sons are overseas, fighting for me and you
Please God, don't send them home to me
in a box draped in red, white, and blue.

Details | Betty Johnson Poem

Ode To the Bi-Polar

So what, I'm upset, deal with it!

If you can't, tough, get out of my face!

My reasons are none of your business!

You need to just give me my space!

Don't you dare tell me to, "just chill out"...

Or, "at least act like you're in a good mood"

Don't take it personally, I ain't mad at you 

And I'm NOT copping a bad attitude!

It's just sometimes my thoughts kinda darken

And I can't shake it off, wish I could.

So the only advise I can give you

Is get away from me, THAT would be good.

And then, when I start feeling better,

Don't act like you're all upset too!

Let it go, you do NOT make me feel bad!

You just make me feel like punching you!

Yes, I call you names and yell insults,

But when mad, I can't help how I act.

I'm so happy to tell you what I think of you

And I wont even bother with tact.

Being warned, if you still want to know me,

If you think you can handle the strain,

Then just don't say that I didn't warn you,  

And I do NOT want to hear you complain!

Details | Betty Johnson Poem

Tenderheart Bear

His teacher gave an assignment
On his first day of school,
She told the kids to write a book
On things they thought were cool.
She said they could draw pictures
Like in all the books they read,
But she said to be creative
And this is what his said:

"My baby rabbit is one thing that I love,
and my house, that I drew this picture of.
I love my family and a sunny summer day
and red would be the only color if I had my way."
 "I love my teacher, she said I could go far
and I like Skeletor and my cool racecar,
but my best things, just in case you care,
are great big shiny red balloons and Tenderheart Bear."

Fifteen years down the road, 
When he was all grown up
I was cleaning out my closet
And putting things in the truck
I came across a cardboard box 
I opened it to take a look
And there it was with my letters and cards... 
Joeys book.

Carefully I opened it 
And began to take a look
At all the things he'd wrote 
And colored in his special book.
Though he'd been only five years old 
He'd had the sense to know
I'd need something to take me back 
To those precious years with my Joe.

Now my Joey's grown and gone 
With his own family.
He's stationed in the Army 
Far across the sea.
I wish for him all happiness 
And love because it's rare,
But I'll always keep for him 
His book and Tenderheart Bear.

Details | Betty Johnson Poem

Awakening

I gave you no boundaries for all that I had...
I joined you in quest of your dreams
I unwisely allowed you to move in with me...
but you took everything to extremes
You left me not even one keepsake...
you had to exploit all it seems
So you finally reduced me to nonentity...
but you've lost too with your selfish scemes
I once possessed many luxurious things...
a home and a fancy sports car
My left hand proudly sported a bright diamond ring...
that shimmered like a twinkling star
I naively gave you a heart full of love...
you gave me an invisible scar
You're careless; you're thoughtless; you're selfish...
I hate it but can't change who you are
It's safe to say we've hit rock bottom...
and I for one don't like the views
You cannot get blood from a turnip, they say...
as you know we don't have much left to lose
Through thick and thin I have stood by you...
so I will say that I've paid my dues
But I never once received what I needed from you...
though I begged you, you simply refused
I'm appalled I allowed your careless discount...
for all I held important to me
At first I lost only possessions...
then you cost me my family
It's hard to believe I was so blinded by you...
that I honestly chose not to see
You were completely erasing all that I was...
the very essence of me
I'm at last weary of being a prisoner...
engulfed wholly by your sinister cell
So now quickly, before I'm completely dissolved...
by those ravenous waves you expel
I'll frantically climb Jacobs ladder...
to be free of this self imposed Hell
"Get thee behind me, Satan" ...
for I'm nolonger under your spell
I'm now going to wipe clean the canvas...
of this girls life you tried so hard to crush
and as Leonardo da Vinci has done...
I'll take in hand the artists brush
and with the palette of my bleeding heart...
from whence all my hopes and dreams gush
I'll repaint the masterpiece I was s'posed to be...
though sadly tis faint now my youthful blush.