John Carter Brown

John Carter Brown Poems

I've noticed, again, a small hole in my sock
And there's something I don't understand:
It puzzles me greatly, I'm baffled, and so
On this subject I now should expand.

A hush had descended, the air was quite still,
Nothing was moving beside the old mill;
Nature postponed both it's joys and it's pain,
Holding it's breath until after the rain.

As I lay in my bed, unable to sleep
I composed a good poem I wanted to keep;
It kept going round and around in my head
(I should have been bothered to write it all down)

Flame of love come near me
And let me feel the heat
Let me glide above the ground
Instead of on my feet;

I wish I was a wise man
And all the answers knew,
The solver of all problems
With perfect point of view;

There once was a farmer from Hull
who's life was exceedingly dull
he had not a friend
so he thought in the end

My liking for life has been stolen,
A thief came and took it away;
A visitor bent on destruction,
A burglar from hell, you might say.

Victory in Europe
Fifty years ago;
To some it doesn't mean a thing,
It happened long ago.

I look at myself, and who do I see?
I see the me I used to be,
Not the one that other people see;
The question be, which one is me?

Lay down your head my little one
Close up your sleep-hung eyes;
Give up the day, and all that's gone,
Relinquish earthly ties;

Friday night was Chippy-night
For all the family,
Way back when I was very small,
That's how it used to be.

I'd rather be Master than mister
mister's a meaningless word
It's simply a title you're given
To mark you as one of the herd;

Oh vitamin B, how I've missed you,
My body has long been bereft
Of your strange but miraculous power
To keep a man healthy and blessed.

I love and hate this time of year
The damp, the cold, the drawing near
Of frost returning o'er the stones,
The chill enveloping my bones,

Once upon a Sunday
In the daffodil-days of spring
I heard a Blackbird crying,
'Twas a sorry sorry thing.

Melting snow reveals an
Altogether more familiar vista, as
Rain washes away the last of the freeze;
Cold days begin to lengthen slowly, then

Blue blue skies, as
Lovely as they be, cannot
Upstage the beauty of the
Eyes you turn to me.

Pretty as a picture
In her brand new summer dress;
Not that she is interested,
Kids love to make a mess.

I think I fancy fish for tea
I'm feeling in the mood
For fish is very good for you
Unless the bones protrude

I'm addicted to Liquorice Allsorts
That sugary gem of a sweet, and
Unless I take serious hold of myself
The whole of the pack I will eat.

John Carter Brown Biography

Lancashire lad, born and bred. Twice married, and with 5 children. Educated at Secondary Modern, but left in 1965 with no academic qualifications-(they were not mandatory back then) Moved to Somerset in 1990, then took a GCSE in English in 1994 (out of curiosity) and passed with a Grade B. This then spurred me on to have a go at writing poetry, which I have been doing, sporadically ever since. I moved back to Wigan in 2000. My main hobbies are: Listening to music (I also play guitar, and have written a few songs): Gardening; Reading; Walking, and Photography. Uncomplicated poetry from an uncomplicated man. I hope you enjoy my work.)

The Best Poem Of John Carter Brown

A Hole In My Sock

I've noticed, again, a small hole in my sock
And there's something I don't understand:
It puzzles me greatly, I'm baffled, and so
On this subject I now should expand.

I put the sock onto my left foot and see
That peeping out there's my big-toe;
This makes me unhappy, because I am sure
That left there, the small hole it must grow.

To effect a solution is easy enough,
So I swap the sock o'er to my right,
Then the known laws of physics get twisted around,
I begin to lose trust in my sight.

I cannot believe what I see on my foot
It seems that the hole has reversed;
It's moved to the left - to my other big-toe!
I now think my sock has been cursed.

I swap the sock back, and the hole moves again,
It's creepy - what does it intend?
It's back to the right, where it was in verse two,
I now think I've gone round the bend.

And so I surrender, it's all got too much
Sock-holes move, and of that there's no doubt;
I just wanted to warn you about it, and thought,
Like the toe, that I'd just point it out.

(Written Aug 2013)

John Carter Brown Comments

Ellias Anderson Jr. 02 September 2012

well dear John the poems those you write are the funniest and the cutesiest works when ever i have read. your arts contain fragrant nice stories that just make smile on our lips. thank you because of your brilliant works. My best regrades Sir John Carter Brown.

3 2 Reply
Kumarmani Mahakul 18 March 2019

Ob behalf of all fellow poets, PH Family and our Mahakul Family we offer a title of honout to poet John Carter Brown from Wigan, United Kingdom as, 'Cheery Zeitgeist.' This title is offered to him due to his high perseverance and notable contribution to the world literature. From today on ward he will be known as Cheery Zeitgeist John Carter Brown. We hope, all poets, visitors and people will like this.

0 0 Reply
Kumarmani Mahakul 02 March 2019

John Carter Brown is a brilliant and multi-talented poet who writes many nice poems with metaphor, humor and fun directly from his social and natural experiences. I know him since 2014 and I like his poems. His high skill of poetry writing is well reflected in his poems. He finds beauty of growing roses from ashes and gives the essence of success with fragrance. He is a dazzling icon in the sky of literature. I am wishing him all the best for his perseverance. May God bring fortune for him!

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Richard Beevor 08 May 2014

a hole in my sock, yes i know that problem well, thanks for a very entertaining poem

3 3 Reply
Susan Slocumb 15 April 2014

I like how this almost follows the rhythm of not a creature was stirring.. nice one.

3 1 Reply
Smoky Hoss 31 October 2012

If you want to read some genuinely good poems, that will make you glad you did, read John's! Very enjoyable, a pleasure to read, always. So many of them have made my dad brighter and better.

3 2 Reply

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