A poet who knows it

Joy Wanless is a poet who knows it.

After all, there are not many people who can claim to be a published poet, or to have a piece of their work as the centrepiece of a school display.

But that’s exactly what has happened to DAMHA resident Joy.

Joy has enjoyed poetry her entire life and keeps a file full of poems of she has composed in her aged miners’ home in Castle Dene, Chester-le-Street.

The 85-year-old take inspiration for her poems from a wide range of things, including personal experiences such as the death of her husband Alan and her battle with cancer, through to more light-hearted topics such as Onesies and wind turbines.

This has led Joy to have her work published in seven national poetry books, but her proudest moment came when she discovered that a poem she had written about the school she attended as a child has been put up permanently at the school.

She was a pupil at Woodlea Primary School in the 1950s, when it was called Fencehouses Secondary School, and her poem recalls her fond memories and the emotions she felt on her return.

When she gave her poem about Fencehouses Secondary School (now known as Woodlea Primary School) to headteacher Philip Adamson, he was so moved he decided to make it the centrepiece of a display at the entrance of the school.

Joy says: “It was such a lovely thing when I was invited to the school to unveil the display with my poem in the middle.

“I have always loved writing poems about things that have happened in my life, the things I see, or the people I come across.

“When an idea for a poem comes to me, I often can’t get back quickly enough to put pen to paper – I get so much pleasure writing them.”

Onesie, a poem by Joy Wanless

I bought myself a onesie, I never thought I would,

It’s black and pink in leopard print and it even has a hood.

Well, I’d heard so much about them, and just how warm they’d be,

And to save a bit on heating seemed a good idea to me.

So, I bought myself a onesie, I bought it in the sale,

It really was a bargain and there by hangs a tale.

That evening when I put it on, and curled up in my chair,

All furry warm and cosy like a great big teddy bear.

Then I felt the call of nature, and to the bathroom off I hurried,

Now where to start to get it off, it really had me worried.

A onesie isn’t like a skirt, you can’t just lift it up,

And when I tried to take it off, I found the zip had stuck.

I pulled at it, I tugged at it, oh what was I to do,

I stood there with my legs crossed, by now dying for the loo.

And then with one almighty pull, I really gave my all,

My onesie it had came apart, and I could answer nature’s call.

So, if you have a onesie, and I know it’s not a sin,

Remember my tale of the onesie, my bargain went into the bin!