...so, who and what and where is JiggeryPoetry?

Me, Stephen Williams. And I'm here, in Yorkshire, waiting for your call!

Having been an English teacher for thousands and thousands of years, I've got to know my way around a paragraph and a rhyming couplet or two. So I am excited to offer a service that allows you to say precisely what you want to say in a creatively-worded, cleverly-constructed, uniquely-personalised way.

I have been writing poetry and speeches for most of my life: sometimes for family, sometimes for friends or colleagues, and always for myself. 

My influences are many: of course, the much-loved poets from the 'Best Poets in the History of the Universe Ever' list. However, much of what I do exists because of the more contemporary 'stand-up' breed of poet - the modern poets who believe poetry is for everyone and can be about anything. (Search up: Harry Baker, Taylor Mali, Luke Wright, Lemn Sissay). I'm also a scholar of the spoken word and how, if constructed carefully and in in the right setting, it can stop the show.

Writing, in all its forms, is my passion. And I hope, as you explore this site, you find something that makes you smile and gives you a feel for the type of things I love to write. 

Latest Poem

For Liam

Liam
Dad, this is an honour, to stand as your best man,
And just for these ten minutes, wear the crown.
My chest puffed out with pride, and I won’t lie dad, I cried -
Until I found out everyone else had turned you down.

So let me get something off my chest, that’s been bugging me for years:
Now, I’d hate you all to see me as a moaner.
But why is it, when follicles and a barnett ain’t your strength
Do your colleagues call you Bart, and never Homer?

I’m not saying that you’re lazy dad, or guzzle too much beer;
It’s not the lack of wit or repartee.
It’s not that fading fitness or that slowly expanding paunch,
But that razor-sharp yellow cartoon - why he?

For when it comes to characters from film or off the telly;
For me ol’ chap, there’s only one real choicey.
I know that Victor Meldrew or Uncle Albert fit the bill,
But for you dad, it’s the one and only Boycey.

That second-hand car salesman, unflappable and suave,
Shining that Black Audi to its ends.
Oozing in composure and controlling all the room,
With more than his fair share of dodgy friends.

Or maybe it’s James Bond who you’ve more in common with?
Quick-witted like a bullet from a gun.
Sharp-suited, on a mission, never stirred or shaken,
And debonair and classy, like your son.

But seriously, dad, I can’t tell you just how proud
I am to stand up here and take the floor.
And I know that I’ve indulged myself in gags at your expense,
But fasten your seatbelt sunshine, here’s some more.

I wonder if you remember that day I asked the question:
‘Between your car and me, which gets you high?’
You closed your eyes and pondered it, while I stood open-mouthed,
And you guessed it folks, I still wait for a reply.

And that penchant for a dad joke that’s never far away
Could be seen as one of your few frailties.
But I believe that’s just another thing that makes you you,
My corny partial throwback to the eighties.

So Marlene.. I mean Lisa, are you sure you’ve worked this out?
Are you ready for a life spent back in time?
Can you bear to be with me and him in our nostalgia-land
In a constant state of 1989?

So raise your glasses one and all for a simply super bloke,
Someone who’ll fix a problem if he can.
‘Cos if you want the best ‘uns, and you don’t tend to ask questions,
Then dad and my best friend - you are the man.

Published 28th Jul 2023 | Tributes

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