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Joe Cole Aug 2021
You know I have just been reading my poems
Dozens of poems and the thousands of words I have penned
But one thing stands out stark
So many blank spaces where once I had poetic friends
Where are they now I ask myself?
How many have crossed to the other side
Well I guess I'll never know the answer
But just as the tree in Autumn sheds its withered leaves
So the new growth of springtime brings a blush of green
Yes, new growth and fresh young poets using laptops instead of pens
That I don't see as a bad thing, just new technology pouring forth beauty in words
I've been away for much to long and like a light being switched on in a dark room I now feel the urge to take up the pen once more
Or to tap away on a keyboard although I guess in this day of the tablet even my keyboards old fashioned. But pen or keyboard i don't really care because the words I write mean that once again I'm a member of my international family.
With Covid, Afghanistan and all the other terrible things going on our words can inspire and bring hope in the darkest of times.
To all my old friends in poetry and new friends I've yet to meet I say this, Stay safe during the bad times and share happiness in the good times
Joe Cole Aug 2021
When my Molly crossed the rainbow bridge
And I said my last goodbye
I  kissed her on her small black head
As tear drops filled my eyes

The Molly dog was a part of me
And always by my side
Smelly and wet in my sleeping bag
Beneath a moonlit sky

She went so quick that little dog
We never got to have one last walk
In places she loved to go
One deep sigh and she was gone
And my tears began to flow

Three years ago I lost her
But still the pain wont leave
My Molly was always a part of me
But now her ghost walks by my side

I will always have the memories of that
Mollie dog I loved you then and I love you still
RIP my Mollie dog
Joe Cole Apr 2021
I'm heading for the darkness
I'm descending into hell
Not a place I really want to be right now

Just a few short days ago they opened up my groins
Just because they wanted to shove some extra plumbing
deep inside
Only took them about nine hours

Anyway while deep inside covered in blood and gore
Somebody made a major mistake and now
I'm suffering like never before

One little mistake is all it took
A tiny slip with a scalpel blade
Been told that I will probably need a stick
For for the remainder of my days
Oh well its lucky I carve my own

Well no more wild camping
Under a tarpaulin in the woods
No more the bird song in the early ****
Because the birds don't sing in hell
Joe Cole Feb 2021
I once wrote about a chrystal stream
Where poets once wrote
And young lovers dreamed
Of the beautiful years to come

But the chrystal stream became a fetid place
Of sewage and industrial waste
And so the poets no longer write
And young lovers no longer dream
Of the beautiful years to come

But now I sit beside a chrystal bay
The sun forming diamonds on rippling waves
Bird song sounding in my ears
Peace washing away years of stress and fear
This now the place where poets write
Now the place where young lovers dream
Of the beautiful years to come

Tranquil here in the early dawn
With the rising sun reborn
This now the place to sit and think
Take up the pen and make bold the ink
But I'll never forget the chrystal stream
Where poets once wrote and young loves once dreamed
Of the beautiful years to come
Joe Cole Feb 2021
I sit here watching the westering sun
Relaxed now that my work is done
The slight ache in my shoulders
From bearing the weight
Of living the life that I chose

But this now is the time to sit
This now is the time to think
The time to sit and reminisce
Of times long past, opportunities missed

But would I change the times I've had?
The fun, the laughter
The good, the sad
Probably not for its history made
And tomorrow the start of a brand new page

I could have spent my life behind a desk
High blood pressure, ulcers and daily stress
Instead I chose another way
Of winter storms, springs fragrant days
Days spent beneath the summer sun
Free to wander, free to roam
To breath the heady pine scented air
And feel the soft breeze on skin and hair

And now I sit and reminisce
About those times long past
  Feb 2021 Joe Cole
Don Bouchard
Come sit with me
On this stone of sorrow;
Weep, lest I weep alone.
We may have laughing again...
But today, I'll rest
On this sorrowing stone,
Together with you
Or alone.
Drove all day to say goodbye to my Mother. She left this life four hours before I arrived. I am glad for her peace, and I am mourning her loss.
Joe Cole Feb 2021
My wings are clipped and broken
The freedom I love has gone
I no longer soar over the green fields and forests
I'm doomed in a cage to remain

Do I blame the virus?
No for the virus is just that
A virus is blameless, a virus does not hate

No but I do blame you
The ones who refused to separate
Refused to wear a mask
Allow me to breath your infected breath

And so for you idea of freedom
Another million have to die
Your belief in freedom
Means that I can no longer fly
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