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Joe Cole Oct 2015
But
Yes I live in the South Country
Where I grew up as a child
Where I wandered the fields and the forests
And studied life in the wild
I wander the unknown paths
In sunshine and in rain
Smell the fragrance of the Heather
And underfoot crushed wild thyme
This is my place
My escape from a dying world
You can bury me here in my South Country
With a tree standing over my grave
I need no long drawn out service
Just a place that nature has made
Joe Cole Oct 2015
Yep boring because I write so much
About my love of nature
About living on the edge
The acrid but sweet smell of wood smoke
And the comforting flickering fire
The bubbling *** just on the edge of the flames
Sweet music to the ears
I sit in contentment with my glass
A single malt of course
Just the sounds of the night
Eerie to some
But sweet music to my ears
And a smelly wet dog curled at my feet
In this place where I truly belong
I don't need the friparies of life
Simplicity is fine
Just give me the sun, give me the rain
Give me that smelly dog
And life will be perfect
Joe Cole Oct 2015
A few small things in a bag
A good canoe and a paddle
A river unknown
That is all I ask for
My 10x8 tarp for my shelter
Fragrant pine twigs for my bed
My alarm the sweet dawn chorus
Of a thousand singing birds
The fragrance of the woodsmoke
As I watch the sun sink down
The messages in the moon and stars
Before in sweet repose I bid goodnight
BUT

So few places of Tranquility left
Joe Cole Oct 2015
The body now old and worn
But my mind is still sound
To many broken bones from my early years
Rugby the game that I loved
Still love
But rugby back then in army
Was a different game
The sly punch in the testicles
Punch in the mouth
Well that was all part of the game
Later you would share a beer with the guy
Who broke your fingers
No, no we'll never grow old
Until you wake one morning
And feel the pain
In long past shattered bones
We rarely stop as youths to think about how the abuse we put our bodies through will affect us later as we grow old
Joe Cole Oct 2015
A cabin
Two small rooms off grid
All I will ever need
No TV or radio
Just a a small dog at my feet
Mollie
A note pad and a bottle of ink
With an old fashioned scratcher pen
,(because so few now know how to write)
But all I need are the sound capped waves
To make me realize what life's about
The usual ramblings of an old man
Joe Cole Oct 2015
And so we left to the trumpets blare
To fight the scourge of commusim
That you all so feared
We, the young, did not choose the path
That lead so many to their last repose
And yet you who did with bearded face
Beaded dreadlocks proud on show
Shouted baby killers to the crowd
Oh you, you brave and nice
And so we returned
To no heroes cheers
We returned to a thousand jeers
Simply because we fought to keep you free
From Communism
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