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Apr 7 · 33
No Bulshit
Joe Cole Apr 7
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 9
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
Feb 9 · 56
A Time Sit
Joe Cole Feb 9
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 1 · 1.8k
Covid 19
Joe Cole Feb 1
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
Mar 2020 · 442
My South Country
Joe Cole Mar 2020
For many long years I have wandered
For many long years I have roamed
Now a voice in my head is calling
Calling me back to my south country home

I have wandered your tropical forests
Experienced the hot desert sun
Climbed your mountains snow capped peaks
In your lakes and blue seas I have swum

Now a voice in my head is calling me back
Back to where I was born
Once more to walk in the pine woods
Beneath the warm summer sun

Many years ago I did leave her
As a youth so fearless and bold
Now I hear my south country calling me back
To the place where I can grow gracefully old

I'll never forget the friends that I made
As I wandered your far distant shores
And if ever you visit my south country
You'll find a welcome sign over my door.
Nov 2018 · 392
Joe Cole Nov 2018
She walked with me in the high wood
And down cold wet forest pathsl
Slept with me in my sleeping bag
Was my constant companion through  the good times and the bad
Yes she could be a grumpy cow with lots  of teeth on show
But just three short hours ago it was her time to go
And so my Mollie Dog left me
For the place where good dogs go
R.I.P my Mollie Dog
Dec 2017 · 921
Joe Cole Dec 2017
I listen  to the sound of the breaking waves, smell the salt tang in the air
I watch the graceful seagulls ride the thermals way up there
No sound of human voice, no strident car alarms
I sit in natures solitude enraptured by her charms
The sea reflects the sinking sun in hues of red and gold
I'll never tire of such sights though I grow gray and old
The first gleam of the evening star appears in the ever growing dark
And the golden crescent of the moon begins her journey night
No words of mine can best describe natures perfect charm
This is peace, a perfect peace, tranquility and calm
Dec 2017 · 650
I'm Coming Back
Joe Cole Dec 2017
I've just spent several hours reading over my poetry
And reading all the wonderful comments written by
Other poets and friends, some sadly who are no longer
On the site. It was those friends and poets who in great part
Were responsible for giving me the six dailies that I achieved
And the further six dailies written in response to my daily write
For me challenges. I feel it is only right that I come back and start
writing again
Jun 2017 · 869
A Bending Tree
Joe Cole Jun 2017
Just been outside and an almost gale force wind is blowing
About a hundred yards away stands a stately oak
Bending in the wind
Small twigs and leaves being stripped away
That hundred year old tree stands tall taking all that nature can throw at it
Just as we in the free world bend and sway before the terrorist threat
And yes our twigs break and people die
We might bend but we will never break because eventually we know the threat will wither and die
Like the bending tree WE WILL survive
May 2017 · 677
Joe Cole May 2017
you know I lost the will to write
because the words just wouldn't form
In the space inside my head
So I took to living in the wild
using a tarp and not a tent
Sitting beside a log fire and gazing at the stars
And a million words all jumbled up
in the void within my mind
But then it all came together
once again making sense
After all poetry is just written words
the incentive always there
I think sleeping in the woods as I now often do
Is the inspiration to once more lift the pen
and send my words to you
May 2017 · 538
Joe Cole May 2017
you know I lost the will to write
because the words just wouldn't form
In the space inside my head
So I took to living in the wild
using a tarp and not a tent
Sitting beside a log fire and gazing at the stars
And a million words all jumbled up
in the void within my mind
But then it all came together
once again making sense
After all poetry is just written words
the incentive always there
I think sleeping in the woods as I now often do
Is the inspiration to once more lift the pen
and send my words to you
May 2017 · 722
Joe Cole May 2017
When I wrote make believe
When I wrote make believe I was lost in a fantasy world
A world where anything could become possible
In the forest I can see elves dancing to unknown tunes
I can see stars gleaming 'neath a sky blue moon
Hordes of dwarfs trampling fresh green leaves Beneath iron shod
boots and cloven hooves
Lose yourself into a dark closed mind
Close your eyes and let words flow
You see fantasy is in all of you
Try it, it's not so hard to do
so many write on subjects such as love, death, self harming, just let the fantasy in your mind take over
May 2017 · 657
Make Believe
Joe Cole May 2017
Do you believe in magic or the world of make believe
Of dragons who spout gold dust instead of fire when they sneeze
Of little men in soft green hats with long grey beards and such
Well you should believe in all those things because by magic you are touched
That tinkling noise in dead of night that has no earthly cause
That is the magic in the air and that magic is all yours
Believe in witches, black cats, cauldrons on fires bright
Believe in Knights of olden times in armour gleaming white
Think about the moon dust making diamonds in the sky
Think about the magic surrounding you and I
Apr 2017 · 1.4k
Joe Cole Apr 2017
Ive spoken often about my Mollie dog
My constant companion for nearly eleven  years
but the wild camping days we shared are gone
She's old like me now and just wants to sleep
And I know that one day soon she wont wake from that sleep
And so I got Megan
A little bundle of  wire wool
She chose Wendy and I, not the other way round
Miniture poodle, Jack Russel and cavelier spaniel
what a mixture but so beautiful
She loves everybody and every dog
Will she ever replace the Mollie dog?
Only time will tell
My love for Mollie dog will never fade
But Megan is the future
Apr 2017 · 736
Simple Words
Joe Cole Apr 2017
What are words but simple building blocks
But those simple blocks are used here to create beautiful works of art
Beautiful poetry is an art form often misunderstood
But for some (us) an expression of freedom
The freedom to open our minds and pen what we see
Jan 2017 · 982
Winter Chill
Joe Cole Jan 2017
The fog rolled in in the early hours
And with if came the frost
Its left me with a dewdrop nose
In my fingers all sensation lost

I feel a tingling in my toes
That wasn't there before
Perhaps its because my socks are thin
And I decided to go out doors

Why put my body to the test
Of taking so many icy breaths
When at 71 I should stay inside
With my Mollie dog snuggled up by my side

Three black cats are cuddled up
Much to wise to face the fog
Yes I'm a human but how I wish
That I'd been born a cat or dog
Cats and dogs are smart and wise
They know when its wise to stay inside
Once glance at the angry lowering sky
Means hours spent inside beside the fire
Nov 2016 · 1.0k
For Those Of My Generation
Joe Cole Nov 2016
Where has gone the lands we knew?
Of waving grass and glistening dew
All fallen to the housing plan
Devised by an educated city man
Those once green green fields and woodland tracts
Have succumbed to bulldozer blades and felling axe
No more the places where as kids we played
On those beautiful sunlit days
Now landfill sites and city dumps
Cover the places where we once ate a picnic lunch
Gone are the fields and woodland glades
Where we once spent our sun filled days
Nov 2016 · 358
Donald J
Joe Cole Nov 2016
Is it Trump
Or Lump
Or Clump
I'm not quite very sure
But what really bothers me now
Is when the reds come knocking at my door
Don't be disabled, Muslim or even yet a girl
Because the life that once you knew
Will end up in the depths of hell
Yes he said I'll build a wall to keep
Hispanics out
But now its just become a fence
Trump is such a lout
Nov 2016 · 1.6k
Wild Yorkshire
Joe Cole Nov 2016
I sit here on this lonely windswept ridge
Overlooking a wild place
Of peathag and bog and wild heather
Of outcrops of gritstone rock
Standing like rotting teeth
In ravished gums
Bleak and dreary in the rain
But still a place to be loved
Hardy sheep graze the barren slopes
Watched over by equal hardy men and dogs
Out in all weathers
I'm lucky
Because I know the tracks and trails
Crossing this wild land
I know the streams of fresh water
And the sanctuary for my nights rest
In my small lightweight tent
This is wild Yorkshire
As yet an unspoilt place
Oct 2016 · 660
Joe Cole Oct 2016
I want to sit on the stoop with the good old boys
A scraggy old hound sat by my feet
To Chinwag about the good old days
When in the noonday sun we'd sleep
Of walking in the mountains
Of drinking from fresh streams
Not worried about the deer ****
But just living out our dream
Those days are now but memories
Just long held distant dreams
Now we just sit and reminisce
With my old dog at our feet
May 2016 · 899
I Only Sow The Seeds
Joe Cole May 2016
For all our younger poets*

I am a sower of seeds
Hello Poetry is the soil that nurtures the seeds
You are the tender young plants reaching for the sky
Soon to blossom in your full glory
Joe Cole May 2016
Write no more of self inflicted scars
Of brutality, pain, suffering
For all those things only increase your suffering

Instead write of a rich green forest *****
Alive in the sunlight
Alive with the sounds of nature
Of animals and birds

Write about the beauty of the common flower
Struggling up from a crack in broken concrete
A flower not filled with despair
But instead offering it's beauty to your eyes
As though giving thanks for its existence

Yes, sadness and despair we can all feel
For we are mere mortals
But for despair there is a cure not written on the pages of a book
Take yourself to a rocky place overlooking the sea
Watch the seagulls effortlessly ride the wind
Read stories in the foaming breaking waves
Smell the ozone in the air


Take yourself to a sunlit forest glade
Close your eyes and listen as nature calls your name
She will tell you "leave despair behind and write no more of it"
Free your mind of dark thoughts
You have no need of fancy words
From one with letters after his name
Your despair will be washed away by scalding tears
Tears of happiness, as nature plays her game
Like most people I have my darker moments and my answer is the above, no matter what the weather nature will always give me the release that I seek
Apr 2016 · 481
Banish Dark Thoughts
Joe Cole Apr 2016
I left behind that place of dying
And entered the damp dark world of the woods
Sitting alone in the rain, dark thoughts in my mind
But then I realized, the forest was alive
The rustle of small unseen creatures in the leaves
Butterflies flitting in pale sunshine now breaking through the clouds
Best of all, birds singing their sweet refrain
It was then I realized that life has to go on
Even in your darkest moment, life is still worth living
Apr 2016 · 254
Oh How Little We Care
Joe Cole Apr 2016
So what!!! It just a few flowers I stepped on
There are a thousand others out there
So what!!! Those kids shouldn't have got in the way
He was dealing on my patch
The kids died in the crossfire
Not a problem,
There are a thousand others out there
Apr 2016 · 332
Joe Cole Apr 2016
I wander the hills and valleys
In the wet and in the fine
Searching for answers to unasked questions
Answers I know I'll never find
We all have unanswered questions
Apr 2016 · 453
Great Artists- Great Poets
Joe Cole Apr 2016
But I am neither
I see great poets here, people of education
Education that I can only dream about
Well I don't need that
You see
My greatest gift is honesty
My simple words written in an honest way
Who is the greater man
He with the fine education, wealth, a fine home
Or the simple man who tills the fields
From dawn till dusk in all weathers
Thus to ensure that the educated wealthy man
Never starves
Apr 2016 · 482
Don't Do It Girl
Joe Cole Apr 2016
Don't do it girl I said
Don't you marry that soljer boy
For that boy was born for war
And girl you'll suffer grief
You see girl
If he thinks he'll die tomorrow
He'll grab the first girl that he sees
And in his throes of passion
You'll become one more distant dream
No girl don't marry no soljer boy
And become a widow before your time
For soljer boys are born for war
And at an early age they die
Apr 2016 · 348
Give Me Peace
Joe Cole Apr 2016
Give me five acres of green forest
Give me a clear blue sky
A rippling stream in the sunlight
And an orchestra of birds
Give me peace
Mar 2016 · 372
Joe Cole Mar 2016
Why do we ask for help from above
When we know no help will come?
Instead in times of crisis we look for
Those with the experience to help
Those in a time
When no religion exists
Mar 2016 · 5.3k
My Words
Joe Cole Mar 2016
My words are but a shooting star
To be seen in all its glory
But as shooting stars fade in an instant
So do my words to be read once
Then fade into obscurity
Mar 2016 · 401
When darkness descends
Joe Cole Mar 2016
When darkness descends
And doubts fill your mind
Love will always prevail
Joe Cole Mar 2016
Went walking in the high woods this morning
A light dusting of overnight snow glinting in the sunlight
Like a million perfect diamonds
Over to my right dense forest with barely a track seen
I will save that place for later in the year when
For a few days and nights it will become my refuge
I love such places, clean fresh air and a cold breeze blowing
Very few other people here , to early for them
Such a perfect setting to start the day
Mar 2016 · 387
So Many Empty Spaces
Joe Cole Mar 2016
Just been going through my poetry
As I'm sure many of you do
And noticed something different
Now so many empty spaces
Where I once saw prophile faces
Where have they gone,
why did they leave?
The ones we called our friends
Those who once might have wielded swords
But chose to wield the pen
Now so many empty spaces
Where once were prophile faces
So many gifted writers are leaving us
Mar 2016 · 582
The Arms Dealer
Joe Cole Mar 2016
You weep for your son's dying on a foreign field
so many  miles from home
And from your tear filled eyes
tears of hypocrisy run
For every bullet that hit your boys was
another dollar won
You were the executioner of your sons
Because it was you who sold the bullets and guns
For you I can hold sadness but also deep contempt
How many families are now in mourning
So that you can add to your bloodstained wealth
Arms dealers do not care to whom they sell the tools of death
Mar 2016 · 357
Joe Cole Mar 2016
I sat by the dying embers of my campfire
as night descended
And became as one with the darkness
Here I can find peace
surrounded by the sounds of the night
The hoots and whistles of hunting owls, scratching and
scrabbling of animals unknown
and the plaintiff cry of the distant fox.
This is the time to sit and think of the future,
and to see distant memories written in the canopy of stars.
Here in this place I can reflect on things I have done
Consider the paths I want to follow
The darkness is my place, my sanctuary
A place to be free
I love the peace and solitude that the dark of night can bring when alone in the woods
Feb 2016 · 786
What Is True Love
Joe Cole Feb 2016
Yes, what is true love
The lust of our teenage years mistaken for love
Your firstborn child born out of love
But so often born out of lust
The love of a puppy
Unwanted present but how can you resist it?
The love of writing but then you all know about that

But true love is the couple married for fifty years
No longer ******* tongues in an open mouthed kiss
But still happy to kiss a cheek and hold hands in public
Those who can sit and talk about the good times and the bad
Those are the people who truly understand the meaning of love
Feb 2016 · 2.2k
The Aspen Tree
Joe Cole Feb 2016
The turgid brown ***** rolling river
But above the Aspen stands tall
Leaves quivering, shaking, falling
But Aspen roots go deep
Aspens do not fall
Each leaf that in the water drifts
Another life does fade
Each leaf that on the soil lands
Another life regained
Jan 2016 · 371
The Children Of The Fathers
Joe Cole Jan 2016
Purely hypothetical

You spend hours manufacturing the perfect phrase
Sometimes hours, sometimes days
To gain recognition for your works of art???

But all of you still have much to learn
(Although I'm not the best teacher)
I say to you try not to hard
Because eventually you will be heard
But we the old who hold the flag
That you in time will hold
We, we your fathers won't criticise
For though growing old
We might prompt and guide
Your young pens are the future
Ours the old drying ink
Hopefully the guiding words of hope
You now write for us my children
While we now write for love
When I set my "write for me challenge we achieved six dailies)

But, now write for you, not for the fathers
Jan 2016 · 464
You Should Believe
Joe Cole Jan 2016
In the gloomy winter months reading this one always cheers me up so I decided to repost it*

You Should Believe

You should believe in magic and the world of make believe
Of dragons who spout gold dust instead of fire when the sneeze
Of little folk wearing soft green hats with long white beards and such
Well you should believe in all those things because by magic you are touched
That tinkling noise in dead of night that has no earthly cause
That is the magic in the air and that magic is all yours
Believe in witches, black cats, cauldrons on fires bright
Believe in knights from ancient times in armour gleaming bright
Think about the moon dust making diamonds in the sky
Think about the magic surrounding you and I
Jan 2016 · 581
Just Imagine
Joe Cole Jan 2016
No mobile phones
No internet
So my children poets whom I love dearly
What would you do?
A scrap of paper
Written on with I'll formed letter
To the girl/boy of your dreams
A grizzled old man
With a droopy mustache
Riding 150 miles
In all weathers with a six horse string
Day and night he'd ride with little food
Little rest
And he would cover that 150 miles
In two days

If he survived the weather and Indian attacks
That then was your internet
Dedicated to those brave men of the pony express
Joe Cole Jan 2016
He was an old man to us children
Long unkempt white hair
But brown wrinkled skin from hours
spent in wind rain and sun
He spent his time wandering the country paths
and woodland trails
Our parents said we should keep away
but we weren't scared
We found his home in the bushes overlooking
the road leading into town
A tatty threadbare tent just big enough for one
containing a couple of blankets and a well worn
army greatcoat
At school we used to have lessons about nature study
but that old man was better than any teacher I ever had
He would spend what seemed like hours
talking to us kids
Where honey came from, what wild plants were good to eat
and the ones to avoid
He knew the lives and habits of just about every wild
animal and bird
Then one day he was gone, we never did find out where
His tent and few bits were removed by the authorities
And within months that patch in the bushes had grown over.

I look back on those early years and wonder if it was that
old man who gave me my love of nature.
Those were good times
Jan 2016 · 781
The Colours Of Poetry
Joe Cole Jan 2016
Black the words of dark despair
Red written with power from the beating heart
Blue the words of sadness
Green for natures bounty free for all mankind
Yellow for the timid and shy here for the first time
Mix the colours
And read HP rainbow poetry
Dec 2015 · 694
2016 A New Year Is Born
Joe Cole Dec 2015
We leave this old year to a softly played tune, enter the new in a crescendo of sound
A million trumpets blowing, the throbbing beat of drums all around

We poets hold hand and encircle the world with our thoughts
As we leave the old year and welcome the new
As the brothers and sisters of man

Soon the darkness will give way to light as the new sun climbs high in the sky
Spreading the light of peace on us all as the world is born anew

So open your hearts and open your minds as 2016 is born
Bring peace and love to all mankind
As the new year begins its first dawn
I wish all my fellow poems a happy 2016
Dec 2015 · 379
Youth Versus Experience
Joe Cole Dec 2015
An old bull and a young bull are should in a field
In a field across the hedge are a herd of shapely young cows
The young bull says
"Look at the backsides on those girls, let's charge over smash down the hedge and do a couple of them"
The wise old boy shakes his head and says
" No son, we'll amble across slowly, push down the hedge and do the lot"
Sometimes experience over youth is the best way to go
Dec 2015 · 829
Poetry And Great Poets
Joe Cole Dec 2015
Shakespeare, Keats, Byron and our own Nat Lipstadt
Great men, great poets but!!!!
What do you lesser mortals want to read?
Simple words? Simple phrases?
Some of you just like me
Can't work out the difference between a green salad and a metaphor
But that doesn't matter
We care not
Because we write with love
No pretentious ideas of lasting glory
We write primarily for you,for us
We write because we love words
Joe Cole Dec 2015
Daffodils and campanula in full bloom
In my garden
But a lawn to waterlogged to mow
Birds singing their mating songs
In branches with fresh leaf buds opening
Bright sunlight glinting on the rippled lake
With coots ducks and swans in abundance
Families walking,alive to the spring
Here in the South, in the depths of winter
It's been 14 degrees again today and once again nature has been fooled into thinking spring has arrived once more
Dec 2015 · 592
This Time Of Peace
Joe Cole Dec 2015
My scratchy old pen
And watery ink
I offer you
And just simple words for I am but a simple man
A lesser poet
But none the less a lover of words
In my simple way I a non believer
Give YOU my prayer
Don't hate the man beside you
Though his skin is ebony black
Because when his blood mingles with yours
It's the same deepest red
My muslim brothers in poetry my doors are open to you
I embrace you without judgement
For you are a poet to
Dec 2015 · 684
Joe Cole Dec 2015
50 children will die in Africa in the next 10 minutes
From drinking ***** water
In Sudan a thousand children will die today from starvation
Your £3 pounds can feed a child for a week
Supply facilities to give a child clean water
Of course their government officials need no such thing
Give £19 pounds this Christmas to help feed a homeless drug addict
Oh and of course to make sure the directors of the charity
Get their 50 grand a year salary
Well I'm an old age pensioner
So please all you begging charities
Instead of asking me for money
Please give me a £1000 so I can have a better Christmas
Dec 2015 · 449
Cry Not For Me, not for you
Joe Cole Dec 2015
But cry for Sandy Hook
Cry for those yet to die
At this time of peace that we call Christmas
Yes, weep the bitter tears
Shed by mothers, father's, brothers and sisters
Weep because in this new world of peace
The tears you weep of bitter salt
Might well be the tears you weep for you
Joe Cole Nov 2015
Written for Mary my 85 year old mother in law who lost her husband John to cancer 10 years ago*

Of long walks across Scotlands  rain washed hills
Long days walking the Lakeland peaks with your dogs constant at your side
Strolling the gentle Surrey hills beneath sun dappled boughs
Accompanied by bird song music

Of days long past and memories held dear
Mary still walks about 2 miles a day with Lucy her golden retriever,  and occasionally longer walks with me.
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