Welcome to my world, I’m glad you could come
We’ll sit and swap stories, and perhaps partake ***
Adventures we’ll talk of, of right beating wrong
As we talk like old friends, we’ll compose ode-like song.
The world we will set on the right course again
As ours will be filled with true gentle men
And ladies, our equals with tales of their own
Would make us see reason by raising the tone.
The world carries on as we all have tea
Lots of nice food shared out equally
Till the dream
                ...would then finish
                          ......as dreams always do

…and I wake to my real and more cynical view.

Joe Wilson – False hopes…2015

Undressed, she hooked him, a feast for his eyes
Wearing only deceit like a shawl
But still he found himself trapped by her lies
As he waited for night when she demanded his all.

Hard in desire, yet still deeper in contempt
In passion she drives him to pain
And dark of the eye and with wild hair unkempt
She demands him again and again.

And so again in deep embrace
In thrusting joy and symmetry
They slow right down, it’s not a race
Moving to heaven with intensity.

He of course, just kids himself
They’re lovers, there’s no deceit
The thoughts he has in passions stealth
Help make the act complete.

Many times he’s lain in this nest
He wants for nothing here
And as he sleeps in grateful rest
From his eye seeps a satisfied tear.


©Joe Wilson – In passion…2015

Naked, he now stands before his maker
There’s no more pretence, no more lies
He carries no longer, his banal repartee
He waits, supplicant to hard probing eyes.

As a young man his heart had been so dark
He’d cursed and fought in the streets
And any young lady who’d caught his eye
He’d seduced her between the sheets.
Could he have lived a far better life
Surely, in decency everyone would
Now he never passed by on the other side
Doing the very best that he could.

And with age grew the man who now stands here
He hopes he’s made up for those days
A lifetime since then helping others
Might make up for his earlier ways.

Still the eyes probed him ever so deeply
Though the result we shall never know
Till the day that we have to stand there
When at last, it’s our time to go,

©Joe Wilson – ecce quomodo moritur justus…2015
‘Behold how the just man dies…’

Each day he tried so very hard
Her tender heart to win
She’d often smile at this silly card
Putting unopened notes in a tin.

For many years it was this way
He kept on trying so hard
Until one day she looked his way
And kissed this silly card.

She then began to read his notes
She took them from her tin
And on the wings of love it floats
The love he’d penned within.

They courted then and fell in deep
A love of purest gold
And love they did from wake to sleep
Until they both grew old.

They rarely left each others side
It’s where they liked to be
He said, there was no one else, with pride
You were all there was for me.

Decades on, and growing old
The spark of love still glows
Daily still his wife is told
“I love you”, and my love still grows.

Now hand in hand they fall asleep
And pray to see tomorrow
They only hope they go as one
To spare the other sorrow.

But yet, they wake another day
They smile and still try hard
Her beauty keeping age at bay
He's still her silly card.

©Joe Wilson – A lifetime of gold…2015

He looked in the mirror at the map of his life
Covered in scars from the surgeons’ knife
A line down the centre from a life-time ago
Faded, but hideous, from a time of his woe.
The scar on his leg was from ankle to knee
Not something he’d ever expected to see
There’s cuts on his wrists and backs of his hands
Where the cannulae went in attached to drip stands
But all that remains are the bits of scar tissue
Nothing at all, not really an issue.

We all have these scars, they mark who we are
Some can’t be seen, there’s more hidden by far
But they serve to remind us that we aren’t alone
We all need help sometimes, we’re not on our own.

There’s another impressive scar on his head
But if it wasn’t there, he’d surely be dead
The same with the others, they’re ugly old things
But they mark off the years, in the way of tree rings.

©Joe Wilson - Scars...2015

Now is my passion genuine,
Or fuelled by lustful need to win
I must have you within my arms
Held tight together,  sharing charms.
Forbidden love, but do we care
Wrapped in sin, we make love there
While all around, the world goes mad
For this snatched moment we are glad.

And as we lie, our passion spent
The skies are filled with dark portent
The cuckold is life’s tragedy
He lost his lover’s love to me
He couldn’t ever set her free
I took her to Eternity.

©Joe Wilson – Sinful surfing…2015

Walked he in love to see her smile
In tender rapture did he while
And from such thoughts raised he his pace
The sooner for to see her face.

In walking he passed through a field
With daisies, orchids, there revealed
And as he stopped to them admire
Passed by on horse the local squire.

And young man thoughts in such a whirl
Perambulates to meet with girl
Though not straightforward is his fate
Usurper stands by garden gate.

Not knowing competition he
He tarried far too long we see
For at the home of maiden fair
Found he she was no longer there.

Despondence thus did then unfurl
But wait! Here comes another girl
And courted her he did that day
‘Twas Spring, young men are oft this way.

©Joe Wilson – A young man’s fancy…2015