For I would walk my love, with you
down lanes and through these pastures green
and we would talk as good friends do
of joy and life, in mood serene.

For man could find no better mate
than lifelong’s lover by his side
with things as these to cogitate
and stroll along in time’s great tide.

And as we glide along in peace
we talk and laugh enjoying life
my love continually doth increase
for you the one who is my wife.

To have found you so long ago
and loved you then as I do now
an angel surely let me know
the route to your heart, and the how.

If other men had love as mine
to grow and last a lifetime through
had lives all filled with hearts divine
and days of joy and romance new.

Such joy they too would countenance
and lives that feel so much more fine
as they cavort through merry dance
in life so wondrous such as mine.



©Joe Wilson – An angel surely let me know… 2014

Near Derrington in country lanes
where hawthorns rest as Autumn wanes.

The redwings come and take their fill
gorge on berries ‘gainst Winter’s chill.

The cattle low and chew the cud
a weasel kills and draws fresh blood.

Carp to bottoms of ponds descend
as fields adopt their Winter trend.

A fox or two may yet appear
circling buzzards in skies so clear.

Though both are on the hunt for food
death in nature can seem so crude.

A toad may croak across the pond
hidden from view by reedy frond.

An hour one spends amidst all this
Rewards the soul with utter bliss.



©Joe Wilson – In country lanes… 2014

It rains
All of my sins
Are washed
--away!

No one will come
There is no witness
This life will cease
The rain continues.

I've been so careful
I've been discreet
The rains now run red
Out into the street.

The blade in the gutter
The wrists opened wide
The red rains flow freely
I'm empty inside.

It is over now.

©Joe Wilson - The red rains...2014

Out of the mirror stare those eyes
A face I barely recognise
Etched by life’s continuing test
Lines from smiles and tragedy’s fest.

As I shave my skin so tough
Feel my way with hands so rough
Wondering how my life would be
Without your love sustaining me.

Close to sinning years ago
You steered me on these paths I go
Tender love helped me along
You always help to keep me strong.

Now I need the strength for two
I’ll be right here alongside you
Whatever else that we endure
We’ll face together like before.

©Joe Wilson – Together always… 2014

Bruised by life one picks one's battered self up
Prepares to carry on, into the next belligerence
And stoically turns to face the world
With all its beauty, and yet too, horror and indifference.

We are but a small black, or pink, or brown thing upon our arrival here
Those luckier ones amongst us will be cared for and loved so well
And yet still there are those whose lives are to be filled with pain
From that very first beautiful breath and yet fearful chest swell.

And as we grow to take on life's burden of knowledge
Some of us will fall along the way into deprivation
Taking scraps as they are given, to sustain life
It shouldn't happen in a so-called modern civilisation.

It falls to those more fortunate to work to end the crisis
But sadly, money talks so well and creates and causes such corruption
And those with nothing have found their voice and even now fight back
If answers aren't found quickly I fear, I anticipate eruption.



©Joe Wilson - Crisis point... 2014

With legs pumping like mad, eager to keep up
While his pedals went around very slow
He ambled along giving me exercise
"Would you like me to slow down a bit Joe?"

But I pedalled along with all of my might
And I was keeping up, at least I thought
But an L-driver outside the driving school
Opened his door and brought me up short.

Into the road I flew off my little red bike
But a hand grabbed me and halted my fall
I think it was the L-driver who caught me
He had a handlebar moustache I recall.

Well they all made a fuss about something
And to the hospital I was told I must go
But the thing was I'd lost sight of my father
They watched amazed as I shot off shouting "No!"

In a time like forever I found my father
He was sitting, looking back, one foot down
As I raced up and sat still behind him
His faced changed from smiling to a frown.

It seems that my face was all covered in blood
I was desperate to catch up I didn't realise
As he leapt off his bike and wrapped his arms round me
I said "Dad! Why are there tears in your eyes?"

The driver's door had caught me just under the eye
I'd a **** of some length underneath
Being just seven years old I didn't know why
Dad's tears were his show of relief.



©Joe Wilson - The little red bike... 2014

When I wrote this I was thinking about my Dad. He never cycled with me too much. He became ill soon after I was born and died when I was just twelve.
I loved him so very much.

I feel the chill of the season's approach
As Autumn moves aside for Winter's cold
And wild creatures sensing the coming storms
Frantically forage in ways so bold.

Trees shed of all their majestic colours
Draw food and moisture down into their roots
And close off thousands of Summer scarred pores
Ensuring strong growth to next years new shoots.

It gets darker now as the night-time draw in
Heavier skies create a blackened hue
Before too long the snow clouds will gather
And the crops of this year will die back to renew.

Suddenly Winter is finally upon the land
Not too much to see at a casual glance
And as insects burrow deeper and redwings feed
A slow Winter dormancy takes over the plants.



©Joe Wilson - Season's approach... 2014

My heart belongs to only one
I gave it to her so long ago
And she has held it quite gently
Through Summer suns and Winter's snow.

And when I've been found wanting
She's helped me and held me close
Goodness!! She is so beautiful
She remains my English rose.

I could never have lived without her
There has always been such grace
And every morning when I awake
I see and love her beautiful face.

We are now so very much older
But our love still keeps us close
A lifetime spent in my lover's arms
I've been blessed beyond my hopes.

©Joe Wilson - I have been so blessed... 2014

This poem is dedicated entirely to my beloved wife, Daphne.

I was lying in ambush being totally still
When the red deer wandered into the glade
A handsome young buck about three years old
With fine youthful antlers he proudly displayed.

He was among a few other young juvenile deer
But he was clearly the one that stood out
And in a few years time at the annual rut
He’d be a new leader I’d got no doubt.

He already stood with that majestic stance
On his antlers the rights showed fine bearing
And when the others trotted with him for company
It was almost a smile he was wearing.

But he was mine now and I’d earned him well
I’d waited for him the whole of the night
And there in the centre of my reticule
He was standing alone in full sight.

I was fully prepared for what I was to do
My kit all in camouflage as was I
And just at the moment the young buck looked up
I shot and caught him in his perfect eye.

The slight sound from my camera spooked him
In a flash he vanished into thin air
But when I looked at the screen on the camera
His image was noble and was there.

It is ten years now since I shot him
And a fine leader he went on to be
I sometimes catch sight of him up on the hill
And just for a while he’s looking at me.



©Joe Wilson – The shot… 2014

My heart aches, but not for you
For you nestle here beside me
Lying peacefully in my arms
Head resting on my chest
And I am in Heaven.

My heart aches, but at your presence
For I have never deserved you
I couldn't have imagined
You could love me as you do
And yet you really do.

My heart aches, but for our parting
For I must go and yet may never
See your beloved face again
And my heart breaks in pieces
As now I leave this final time.

©Joe Wilson - My heart aches... 2014

I rise from my nice warm bed
and having made a morning drink
for my beloved wife, and one for me,
I run a bath.
As I luxuriate
in that warm bubbled water
I reflect on how lucky I am.

Later, washed and dressed for the day
I sit at the table and enjoy
a fine meal from God’s harvest
and again I reflect, and I feel…
guilt!

Guilt for the small children
who have no homes in which to feel safe
guilt that so many of them
will not eat again today.

I feel guilt
for all of the poor women around the globe
who will this very day give birth
to babies who they will surely love
but in whose having they had no choice…
no one ever hears their terrified voice.
Poor women beaten by poverty
who still struggle to feed those children
and yet too those who violate them so.

I feel guilt for all the men who cannot be made
to realise that the world is not theirs to design,
and at the way that some men feel
their own importance trumps all other considerations,
and guilt at all of the war ravaged lands.

And when I look down at the bounteous fare before me
I feel only one thing – shame.



©Joe Wilson – On reflection… 2014

It was just a shadow
but the way it moved
scared the bejeebers out of me.

I was just about to put the key in the door
when the ******* shadow
passed through me and cast itself
right down the hallway

…and then it was gone.

It was raining and very windy
and after a short sharp shake of the head
I dismissed it and entered
and switched on the lights
– all of the lights.

Hang on…
How had a shadow been cast in the pitch black darkness!!

I was already miserable enough
I’d had a really difficult day at work
Dealing politely with someone you’d call a ****!


Suddenly – there was a sharp rap at the door
which upon opening revealed
children, one, two, three, four
“Trick or treat, Mister”, the young leader said
at which I grinned heartily
and recalling the juvenescence of earlier days
I was rushed back to reality and to him I said
“Trick”
fully expecting and prepared for a hideous mask or something.

In less time than it takes to say ‘Abracadabra’
the whole scene before me
turned red
I couldn’t make out at first what I was seeing
but then I realised that everything, everything was red.
Houses, trees, cars, even all the people
were all red.
Fiery red!!

I was in Hell – and I was terrified.
There was a long deep laugh
coming from – I didn't know where.
it just surrounded everything
including me – what was going on?

And then I remembered.
“No!! Treat!!,
I shouted at the top of my voice
and just as suddenly as it had all appeared
it vanished.
“That’ll be a dollar Mister.” the youngest lad said.

I gave him five dollars
and closed the door
and locked the door
and very firmly slid the bolts home
and put the chain into its slot too.
I went into the study and poured myself
a very large whiskey,
and sat down, still shaking,
in front of the fire.

I had never been so scared in my life.


©Joe Wilson – Trick…definitely not a treat…2014

Moving through the inky darkness
He leaps out suddenly at night
Stepping out from hidden corners
Where previously there’d been no sight.
            
Each night he hides in darkness maw
Awaiting all who pass
Until the sun begins to rise
By then he’s leapt his last.

No one’s surprised to see him
He follows us everywhere
For he is just our shadow
And of course…he’s always there.

Of course there are some places
Where he stays out of sight
It’s impossible to see him
If there isn't any light.

If you have your dog with you
He has a shadow too
And everything the shadow does
He makes the dog do too.

©Joe Wilson – Out of the darkness…2014

I remember
back to a time
when the black dog
hung around my neck
like a heavy yoke, I
could never be rid of
the terror that it
would not someday return
to seek me out and strike
me down again, and the knowing
how close I had come to succumbing.

I remember edging closer to the crowded
platform’s edge, too filled with fear to realise
the probable selfishness of what I was about to
do, only vaguely aware of where I actually was, but
just able to register that touch on my right arm
and the voice that quietly whispered, “I don’t really think
you want to do that.” I remember turning to see who’d said it
and seeing that there was just a crowd of people. Of the owner
of the voice there was no sign, but it had been enough.
It had been enough to make me realise where I was,
for the moment passed and I made my way back.

Back to the arms of the woman who had always loved me,
and who had carefully, lovingly, nursed me back to health
over such a long time. I wept. I put my head on her gentle
shoulder and I wept as I had never wept before. I wept for all
I still felt, and I wept for all the selfish anguish I would have
caused this woman had I let myself fall,

for that surely had been my intention.

©Joe Wilson – I remember…2014

I looked over yonder
And what did I see
An elephant, yellow
By a big pink tree.

Elephant, yellow
This cannot be
Are my rheumy eyes
Playing tricks on me!

When I looked round again
I saw grass of red
Surely that grass
Should be green instead.

And then a blue horse
Trotted into the scene
’twas the funniest place
That I’d ever been.

I took a step further
As I was feeling bold
Whence a group of green angels
Carried me into the fold.

The rivers there were purple
And the oranges were grey
And everywhere I looked about
People were at play.

The happiness was warming
I felt it in my heart
I loved just being in here
I felt I was a part.

And then a very loud voice
Did sonorously boom
“Who do we have here now
In this lovely coloured room?”

My name is simply Joe
I very meekly did call out.
For I was far too bothered
To raise my voice above a shout.

A huge door then just opened
And I simply passed right through
A large bearded man then said
“How do you do.”

I said, “What was that place
Where the loud voice boomed.”
He said, “That Mr Nosey
Is the oddments ante-room.

“Anyway Mr Nosey
what is it that you want.
I’m waiting for a party
from a crash in North Vermont.”

“I’m a very busy man you know
Why are you even here?
Go off and get yourself back home
And drink a lot less beer.”

©Joe Wilson – St Peter, humour, and the cost of drinking too much…2014

Love is the most powerful weapon on Earth…
Don’t argue against such a thing of great worth

So why the Hell won’t politicians listen?
Do they not see the Earth’s sad eyes as they glisten?

From the tears that are flooding out over the land
But no! Politicians don’t want to understand!

©Joe Wilson – Sadness…2014

Waking from an eternal sleep
To see that fate had played a hand
But destruction wrought upon the world
Was impossible to understand.

The air is still so polluted
Though not as bad as once before
At least the belching chimney pots
Don’t push out black smoke any more.

Swathes of roads through forests
Means magnificent trees are gone
That vital part of the equation
Giving oxygen to every single one.

Not content with destroying all of those
We pollute our beautiful rivers too
Putting pesticides across out the land
That are eaten by wildlife, and me and you.

We fill our greedy faces
With processed food that’s poor
So many children these days
Don’t see real food anymore.

And then, as if that’s not enough
We **** each other too
What on earth do we do that for
It’s obsolescence for me and you.

©Joe Wilson – Our fate…? 2014

The man who lived on the silver screen
Was never the real hero to me
for he was the man who worked the side-door
And let me and my Mum in for free.

Back in those days the heroes were many
Tex Ritter and Roy Rodgers were just two
The cowboy films were always the best
Watching those I never felt blue.

But the real hero to me was my granddad
Who attended the cinema side-door
He'd trained engineers till retirement came
And the side-door job paid for a bit more.

There were stories of robbery and mayhem
Tales of magical mystery and fun
And we were always let in through the little side door
The moment the programmes had begun.

Everyone sat there in the darkness
When suddenly all the screen lit up
And the sheriff rounded up al the bad men
As our hands went into big popcorn cups.

My granddad was as good as those cowboys
He took me to my first cricket match
I remember once when the ball flew at me
He put his hand up and made a good catch.

He served his country throughout the First War
as auxiliary he served through number Two
He was a fine man who everyone loved dearly
He did good things just like heroes do.

They don't give medals for just being a granddad
They should do when they are the best
Now I have grandchildren of my very own now
I just hope that I too pass the test.



©Joe Wilson - My own personal hero...2014

Anxious
sweating
palpitations and fear
results day coming
internal tears.

Hope for the best
plan for the worst
taking the test
mentally immersed.

News again good
sweating all gone
lying relaxing
afraid? not this one!

©Joe Wilson – Fears…2014

He walked down the length of that long lonely street
His footsteps tapping a short rhythmic beat
He encountered no one at that time of day
There was no one to stop him and have their say.

It was a dark three o’clock in the morning
As he wandered aimlessly along the road
But it wasn’t as if he had any place to go
He was only but another poor homeless Joe.

He was on the search for some food or scrap
New enough still to hate this poverty trap
Recently separated, he lost his job and his home
He now find’s himself on the road, where he roams.

He’s tried very hard to keep his dignity too
Not mixing much with the others who do
And he now walks about with an air of fake calm
Thinking that might protect him from coming to harm.

It had never occurred to him that he was always at work
His wife needed more, he understood that too late
Over years it had taken a hard marital toll
So she’d stepped away from him and he’d lost his role.

But he wouldn’t give in, he was determined about that
He desperately told himself every day
He couldn’t let himself live like this for long
He felt if he said so that he would remain strong.

His wife said she still loves him, despite that she left
He caused her such pain and he feels so bereft
But as long as she loves him it gives him some hope
He’ll fight his way back up this steep darkened *****.

He walked down the length of that long lonely street
You could hear a slight lightness to the short rhythmic beat
His eyes filled with tears as his wife filled his heart
Determined he walked on to make a new start.



©Joe Wilson – A new start…2014

Walking down the narrow footpath

That skirts along the tiny rill

I see the leaves all going red

But clinging on to branches still.

The redwings picking berries

Till their crops are all packed full

It’s all hubbub and chatter

Never a moment is dull.



And by the time we next walk round

The village green adjacent

The chill begins to penetrate

We are in Autumn nascent.

Trees growth begins to falter

The sap gets drawn back down

And leaves begin their annual fall

And land in heaps without a sound.



Slowly all the leaves fall down

The sycamore and ash and lime

The ground is strewn with many kinds

We’re in the Autumn prime.

But wait…there are a few leaves left

They rattle as strong winds blow

They’re oak and beech still hanging on

They’re often the last to go.



©Joe Wilson – Autumn’s arrival…2014

(This is just a piece of whimsy)



There’s a rabbit in the headlights
and I see him every day
he’s in the shaving mirror
and I cannot look away.

That I could find the courage
and turn my eyes away
I’d probably shave just half a face
and feel a fool all day.

To me this is just whimsy
to others it’s quite real
I’m not a frightened fellow
and the rabbit’s in the field.

©Joe Wilson – A bury of rabbits…2014

His death could oh so easily have been avoided
At eighteen he was far far too young to die
But the belief that lay within him was so powerful
Now his family have just the memories and they cry.

Men have always gone off fighting for their ideals
And their kinsfolk are the one’s put under strain
For the sickening news that often gets brought to them
Turns their once sun-happy days to ones of rain.

It doesn’t matter a single jot whose side they fight on
The resulting family heartache is still the same
There are those who would use these young men’s keenness
And exploit them in their own political game.

There’s a funeral now as another boy is laid down
And his family are beside themselves in grief
But governments have been this young man’s killer
Politicians stole his heartbeat like a thief.



©Joe Wilson – A stolen heartbeat…2014

Beneath the veil of nations’ fears
Underneath their eyelid’s tears
Are secrets kept of vile misdeeds
Of many wars these are the seeds.

Adventurers sailed around the world
Their nation’s flags they then unfurled
Then ***** the land of all they saw
And stole the wealth found in the core.

Independence now those countries claim
To stand alone, be proud their aim
But our ancestors fiscal curse
We robbed, pillaged and bared their purse.

So now they strike out on their own
The country’s wealth pared to the bone
They end up fighting with themselves
Supplied with weapons from dealers shelves.

This circle will go around and around
Till every human is in the ground
And you my friend when you read this tome
Will wish that you had not left home.



©Joe Wilson – The seeds of war…2014

This land has been robbed of all that it had
Nothing is left, even for the slick and the rich
Crumbling edifices to our capitalist greed
Our world no capacity now left for its need.

There were those amongst us fought agin this
Imprisoned in jails within our own tortured selves
Not enough of us tried to stop the horrors we saw
Now nothing is left, our charade is no more.

Your fathers all fought in such ****** campaigns
There fathers too, and there fathers before
New weapons of destructive powers previously unheard
That slaughtered the innocent in ways cruelly absurd.

Buildings left standing with all inside dead
People didn't matter, but the real estate did
And thus the corruption swept over the Earth
We were judged by our value but not by our worth.

It angers me now as I feel guilty shame
For I didn't do enough and that makes me as them
And for you with the mess whatever is left
There's a world that was rich and is now so bereft.

One thing is certain, save the wealth of the land
The one crucial thing that we never did foresee
Don't go down the pathway of war-like inventions
Create things for peace and for better intentions.

Think in these ways and you may stand a chance
It's a message I couldn't ever iterate to much
War and corruption lie together in bed
Growing good crops gets communities fed.



©Joe Wilson - In mortal pain...2014

Our world cries out in sorrow again
People dying on lonely streets
And blood is shed and spirits crushed
It seems that history repeats.

Would that we could see the truth
Of all that’s good within our sight
That we would see our own great wealth
And help to ease another’s plight.

If we could see and do all that
And in ourselves we understood
Would we not find ourselves at peace
And know at least we’d done some good.



©Joe Wilson – The world cries…2014

Were I a man less fortunate
If I could not my words express
Would I not humbly shun the light
And all my boundless thoughts compress.

My heart is full and begs release
Outpourings flow from deep within
And words flood out and take their form
Of love and pain, and life and sin.

To sit and wait these countless times
Considering this or that to say
Thoughts writ in beguiling form
Thus written they then speed on their way.

Characters flit betwixt mine eyes
So fast sometimes I cannot catch
Letters caught in melee furious
I place them here or there to match.

When all these letters are thus laid down
In words to make some form or sense
Then read by ones’ discerning eye
With open mind and no pretence.

Who reads these words I cannot know
But surely if when read they think
That thoughts they have become theirs now
Thus quill or pen make seamless link.

©Joe Wilson – to express oneself...2014

...nagging doubts (quelled)...

He arrived and saw her all alone
And wondered if she felt lonely too
Or if she had come here to their place with him
But then their eyes met and he just knew.

He still could feel the love of old
And hurt still from what she had done
But something told him she still cared
<em>Say something now or be undone.</em>

He slowly walked across the crowded room
His head still full of nagging sway
But seeing her so vulnerable, his heart reached hers
He took her hand and chased his doubts away.

Many years since that time have passed
Their love has grown and grown and grown
And of that time so long ago
They remember but keep their thoughts their own.


©Joe Wilson - ...oh the misplaced doubts of young men...2014

To be free of this nagging doubt
Oh to be free of this pain
I know that I'll never miss her
I don't want to see her again.

Why beat myself then I wonder
Could it be there is still a spark
She was cruel and she hurt me on purpose
And yet...

I don't know now, I loved her so deeply
The days pass much slower now she's gone
Even now I still can't forget her
Till I do I'll never move on.

If I go to our old haunts I'll see her
I wonder if she'll still be with him
I can't bear to think of or to go there
But the chances I won't are so slim.

I'll just watch some telly and forget her
I'm sure there's some pointless tat on
But the nagging doubts are driving me crazy
I give in, my coat's already on...



©Joe Wilson - ...nagging doubts...2014

If I raise my head I can see out the window
But I know it’s raining I can hear it
I’ll not raise my head
Why the hell is it raining
I’m supposed to be going for a job interview
And it’s raining…******.

I’ll be soaked to the skin and my hair will be
plastered to my ****** face again
just like it was at the last of these things
Where I was the blasted wet interviewee.

So why I ask did I not cut my hair?
I didn’t get it cut last time either
and I can draw a sad conclusion too
I don’t wan’t the job nor the mither.

So I know that it’s raining
I know I’ll get wet
It’s a thankless job anyway
So I’ll stay here in bed.

Get up, get up, lazy sod!
Oh God it’s my righteous inner-self again
**** and Blast!
One more pointless interview
coming up…



©Joe Wilson – A sort of pointlessness…2014

Things were very different in the Sixties
Everything was like new fresh breath
But this sad, true tale of my childhood
Is the tale of a friend's early death.

Peter helped the Co-op grocers delivery-man
After he'd finished school for the day
He'd sit on an upturned milk crate
And they drove merrily along on their way.

He'd helped the man deliver for ages
It was what teenage boys would often do
But as the van took a corner in Rising Brook
Out to his sad fate Peter flew.

The van only had the single driver's seat
No one else was supposed to be there
And the doors all slid back and stayed open
Safety wasn't really thought about to be fair.

So out of the van my friend Peter flew
And fate treated him so very very cruel
He disappeared right under a passing bus
Right in front of the gates to his school.

My best friend was Harry, Peter's brother
And for him everything changed on that day
I watched Harry wither before me
As his spirit of mischief flew away.

Just a few years later Harry drifted
I've not seen him from that day to now
But I hope he was able to find for himself
A way to survive the horror somehow.

I've not spoken of this since those dark days
and the flood of the memory is still raw
If only I could step back and warn him
My friend, please, please close the door.

By a sad twist of irony I lost my brother as well
He was struck down by the first 'Asian Flu'
That memory hurts like a stab in the heart
I was twenty, he was just twenty-two.


©Joe Wilson - The cruel hand of fate...2014

Sadly, this is entirely true. Peter was killed falling under a bus in this manner and my brother was a recently married policeman who died of so-called 'Asian Flu' in 1970.

I hear the wailing cries that call
They’re calling out to me
They call to draw the sailors down
To the shore at the bottom of the sea.

No one can ever resist their call
And so I fear I must go
If ever I find my way back home
Would I even really know.

The wailing calls grow louder
My captain lashed me to the mast
But the calls are strong and they took him
And I don’t know if I can last.

It matters not if you stop listening
For they find their way into your head
You just have to get away and onto dry land
Or they’ll pull you down to the sea bed.

At last I see dry land is yonder
It is almost within my reach
but the ropes that tie have undone now
And my feet can’t quite touch the beach.

I hear the wailing cries that call
They have now come to get only me
My mind is so full of their wailing
That I’m lost and can never be free.

©Joe Wilson – The sirens call…2014

He looked out of his fine high-ceilinged office
He looked down at the city far below
With sleeves rolled up and his blood pressure mounting
Profits missing meant workers had to go.

He didn't care where they would come from
Little people never registered on his screen
He was totally focussed on making dollars
In that he was absolutely obscene.

A little way down from his high pedestal
Was where those desperate celebrities abide
Where they sit wafer-thin in dark glasses
As they feed like piranhas on the crowds.

And though the Hollywood moguls will use them
Because they are the puppets that they are
All memories of where they all came from
Are now just a small thing in the past.

Lower still you will find politicians
All waiting for the moment that is theirs
When they have the glory of the 'fifteen minute fame'
Before they fall back to their own obscurity.

We on the other hand gather down in the street
Like sheep we wait there in the hope that we'll meet
A top businessman who might give us a position
Or perhaps for a glance at a celebrity snob.

And just up above the media vultures hover
As they hope for a juicy story to break
They'll not care a fig for the lives they devour
Just the ratings for them are at stake.

As they say 'T'was ever thus' and it shall ever be
And it seems that frankly it can only get worse
You see my fine friend it's not the humans involved
It's simply the size of the ever-growing purse.

©Joe Wilson - Well we know where we belong don't we? 2014

Wind blows its way right through my senses
All my thoughts have but slowly disappeared
One more large smoky glass of cheap whisky
One more sad lonely night that you're not here.

Loneliness set in as the door quickly closed
Using the back door now and keeping that one shut
It will stay like that until ever you come back
But I've a notion now that it will stay put.

Old sore wounds that somehow resurfaced
Caused a bitter rift long forgotten to return
And the memories and the tears from the last time
Hit the heart, exploded and then burned.

So I sit trying to write and supping whisky
As I wait to hear your key in the front door
I hope with all my heart that you'll forgive me
I can't bear to be alone here any more.

The wind is getting stronger now and I thought I heard the latch
But it was just some fighting creatures out in the dark
So I'll wait as I do each night with my whisky and my pen
Sitting here and waking up with the sound of the lark.



©Joe Wilson - Whisky and my pen 2014

There's something re-assuring about the tick of a clock
It counts off the moments and marks out the days
We know where we are and where we should be
It keeps the world moving without hesitancy.

But do we confine ourselves by wrapping in time
Are we constricted in this sectional way
What if we threw off the comfort of the norm
And took back the freedom of an old timeless form.

The world that we know would be drastically changed
Financial institutes would behave so deranged
Criminals would take over as 'opportunities' presented
Charlatans and fraudsters... - "The World Goes Demented".

So the thing that we find is 'there's no other way.'
We depend on the start and the end of each day
But if time stopped existing not one of us would care
We'd soon cease to function and then we wouldn't be there.

There's something re-assuring about the tick of a clock...



©Joe Wilson - The re-assuring clock...2014

He cast a long sad look along the horizon
And gazed down on the planet’s Armageddon
For man was battling on to it’s destruction
Destroying all that fell in their path.

Placing man on the Earth had been troublesome
But the intellect of man had given Him hope
They could work out the problems that beset them
Yet all the killing and shooting and bombing had to stop.

He’d placed races of different hue and differing creed
Putting them in all manner of places far and wide
But man’s warlike nature seemed reason enough
For them to find their excuses for genocide.

What was it with the ****-sapien class of mammal
That had them at each other’s oft exposed throats
It was not the result of something that He had create
But a flaw that was in the essence of man.

©Joe Wilson – The long sad look…2014

I look in wonder at all I see
each flower, tree, bird and bee.

All these amazing things on earth
that fill its air and all its girth.

But what do we civilised animals do
we cut them, burn them, shoot them too.

We ravage forests for our own needs
ignoring harm we do to breeds.

We only think about ourselves
of stocking up our winter shelves.

Or eating so we get so fat
you don't see 'animals' doing that!

We fill the skies with poisonous gases
killing each other with bombing passes.

Destroying wildlife habitats
to build new roads and boxy flats.

That stop the waters soaking in
and flood the lands that we live in.

And then we have a conference
where those who care get all incensed.

As promises and targets are pencilled in
with chance of action's wearing thin.

In years to come when it's too late
we'll wonder why we let it wait.

©Joe Wilson - There is only one Earth...2014

It's getting a little late...

Hal drew his sword from it’s long sheath
and faced his nemesis on this dark heath
and fought for life and fought till death
his enemy taking his last foul breath.

Long times this family feud had raged
and in its wake young men had aged
for now the devil would breathe no more
till others rose to settle the score.

Returned he then to his peaceful life
sharing in joy with his new young wife
and she did bear him fine young sons
he hoped his violent past was gone.

But the devil will often find ways back
and thus with time came a new attack
so Hal’s son drew his father’s sword
this ancient duel his family reward.

The feud had lasted for ere so long
kinsfolk recalled it oft in song
of troubles over betrayals done
and deathly duels betwixt each first son.

And then one day Hal’s nemesis fell
and hurt them-self as he could tell
he lowered his sword and approached his foe
removing helmet let long hair flow.

This time it seemed there was no heir
but duty fell to the eldest there
and so the woman had taken up sword
for she too felt her kin’s reward.

But Hal had fallen deep in love
so swore that he’d not raise a glove
and she too felt her heart was won
the betrayal forgotten they were as one.

©Joe Wilson – A son’s tale…
This was just a story set in medieval England
where unimaginatively all first sons are called Hal.
I’ve tried to write it in that kind of style.

It rained
It rained down on me
– and it wouldn’t stop!

The torrent of vicious blows just wouldn’t stop
They beat me
They beat me
They beat me

They wouldn’t stop

I was a boy…I was a child

Why wouldn’t they stop?

Mother!
Father!

Why have you abandoned me?

This is not what it says

This is not a home

This is my nightmare.



©Joe Wilson – Just a boy…2014

Life could be harsh in orphanages in the nineteen-fifties.
I’m ever grateful that I only heard of this and didn't experience it myself.

He always walks with head so bowed
Keeping from the other’s crowd
For he has shame and guilt to bear
And for mocking voices he doesn't care.

He once bore arms and was a knight
But turned once he from noble fight
And now a coward brand bears he
Upon his face for all to see.

But none can know just why he turned
Why battle honour he had spurned
They cannot know the man he’d fight
His father, that was this man’s plight.

For father fought on evil’s side
A fight against their family’s pride
And now he bears this wicked scorn
His father’s sin, the family torn.

©Joe Wilson – The scorn…2014

An innocent man though charged was he
For crimes so vile too despicable to bear
But sentenced to servitude indefinite
Behind dark bars his now wasted life.

The Winter days dragged long and weary
Penetrating cold congealed his once pure heart
The hurt he felt, humiliation now complete
His need for revenge, or pride at least, restored.

He sat and waited and counted off the days
Till then his moment kept at length
But time would come when he would strike
And hurt, and life would be undone.

No more he’d take from them the crumbs of fear
The lies of those who for so many so little cared
Would be swept aside as the truth so brightly revealed
No wrong he’d done, as die he now would, his conscience clear.

©Joe Wilson -A dark kind of retribution...2014

He was thinking of flowers and the one he loved...

His first thoughts were of jasmine for her elegant grace
And lovely hibiscus for her beautiful face.

He thought about hyacinths as she was so sincere
Yellow tulips, he was hopelessly in love it was clear.
The red roses he gathered for their passionate love
And forget-me-nots together till the heavens above.

He picked orange-blossom for the children she bore
With larkspur for her beautiful spirited core.
Her lack of desire for great wealth to unfold
Meant he put to one side any marigold
He sprinkled them with daisies for her innocence
Adding some black-eyed Susan for encouragement
Then he wrapped them all up in a very large mass
Of beautiful gardenias for a joy that will last.

©Joe Wilson - He was thinking of flowers and the one he loved...2014

The small stone fell from a ledge
in a study somewhere
and dropped into a travel bag.

Later the bag was picked up and carried away.

Much later still it was put in a car
being placed on the back seat. The car was
then driven to a port where it was taken off
the seat of the car and carried on-board
a cruise ship. The cruise ship was about
to sail up the Norwegian Fjords. It sailed
there quite frequently, though not
exclusively as it also sailed
around the Mediterranean Sea.

The bag was taken to and placed in
one of the luxurious staterooms.The
owner of the bag and her husband
were celebrating an important event
by enjoying a journey that they had
always promised themselves. The bag
eventually ended up on the deck as the
husband had fetched it for his wife
for an object that it contained. In
getting that thing out, the small
stone got caught up in it somehow
and was pulled out of the bag and
fell onto the deck of the ship,
whereupon it started to roll about.

Ultimately the stone found its way
to the stairs down to the lower deck
where it found a gap to lodge in. The
cruise ship sailed into the fjords
during a sudden heavy storm causing
much turbulence not only on the ship
but in a number of the passengers
stomachs, one of whom, a drinking man
I chance, could not contain himself,
and he was violently sick. The storm
abated however, and all was well.

A crewman took on the task of
cleaning up after the apparently
bibulous gentleman and washed down
the deck, and in doing so, washed
the small stone through a gap,
specially there for the deck washing
purpose, and into the fjord whereupon
it sank to the very deep bottom.

Such are the mysteries of life, but
in that one pebble's journey you can
gauge the unpredictable future of
every man, woman and child and creature
on Earth.

Isn't life utterly bewildering?

It is unlikely that the ever-moving tides
in the fjord will not have moved it elsewhere
many times since it fell in off the ship,
out of the bag, out of the car, into the car,
into the bag, and off the shelf
in the first place.

How it arrived on the shelf is
a story for another day.

Utterly bewildering!



©Joe Wilson - The pebble of life...2014

He was often a little shy round the opposite ***
His shyness caused so often his mates to be vexed
But this lady he decided he’d ask for a date
Though he fully expected a miserable fate.

So he asked her to dinner one summer long ago
And to his utter bewilderment she didn’t say no
They fell for each other and they talked all night long
And from that night on his heart filled with song.

Each Valentine’s Day he sends her a rose
He oft writes her poems or occasionally prose
His love no bounds nor does her love for him
Each feeling their hearts are filled to the brim.

No longer that shy like he was once before
They married and he carried her over the door
She bore him two children who they love oh so much
Their love so ethereal, bewildering to touch.

If ever you meet the person who makes your heart glow
And you’re both free to love, then perhaps let them know
You’ll both read the signs and then maybe it will be
That you too will have a life as happy as me.



©Joe Wilson – No longer shy…2014

I encountered the man near to an alley-way last night
He demanded my money, like a fool I chose to fight
It really wasn't as if I'd got very much cash
But the vagabonds behaviour was excessively brash.

So I told him that I wouldn't give it to him
And he pulled out a knife with a blade long and slim.

He then got so angry and he yelled to me GIVE!!
Or I'll stab you with this and you'll just cease to live
But I just wouldn't give up it's not how it's meant
I died with a look of utter be--wilderment.

So I'm writing this poem from up here in the sky
And Peter and my new friends, well we all say Hi!


©Joe Wilson - Utter bewilderment...2014

From his coronet, through his tendons and right up to his crest
When you looked at his withers you could see he was best
His tail was magnificent and hung past his hock
He was blessed with three white ones and a single black sock.

The horse was a Crioulo that had come from Uruguay
I fell for the majesty of this horse I would buy
He was the colour of buckskin with a black tail and mane
And the dun gene line backed him with a long thin black stain.

He stood fifteen hands and he ran like a king
Astride him made me want to just burst out and sing
I raced over fields and I took him over fence
He knew what I asked of him, he had so much sense.

I loved him for thirty fours years from a colt
And when he took his last breath it gave me a jolt
But I’ll never forget Samson, for that was his name
He let me ride on him but he was only ‘so’ tame.

©Joe Wilson – They only let you tame them so much…2014

With a languidness the great bird lifted itself off the branch,
It was much older now but it still had a mate and young chicks to feed.
From the hide across the hill the hunter could hear the steady beat
of those great powerful wings, slowly pounding out their regular note.
He watched, fascinated by the beautiful golden colours that gave the bird its name
as the great creature soared off up into the air, to begin its slow steady scout for food.

Now that the eagle was aloft you could almost hear a pin drop, save for the odd sound
of running water slowly trickling down the hillside into the burn far below.
The hunter had quietly settled in this spot some four hours ago before dawn,
he was comfortable and had set his rangefinder on the eerie right from the start.
Now he just had to wait, but patience was one thing that he had in spades.
His skills as a ****** had been fully tested in foreign lands some years before.

Too many of the enemy had appeared in the cross-hairs of his rifle sights
and when they had they’d never reached the end of that day, he was that good.
That had been the problem, being that good you get called on more until…
He swore he would never again pick up a rifle containing live ammunition,
so here he was preparing for the perfect shot with his ****** rifle,
waiting to put a tranquiliser dart into this majestic golden eagle above, to protect him.

He never expected that this work would be so fulfilling, but here in the hills
He found job satisfaction and this work was certainly worthwhile, and no one died.
The eagle had spotted something for he was starting to rise and tilt his wings.
The hunter had watched him for days and had become very familiar with his method.
He would circle to come in from behind of course, but this canny chap had a trick,
he would come in so low he was never really in the prey’s field of vision long enough.

There was the prey, a rabbit who wasn’t too alarmed yet, but that would soon change…
and there he goes, darting about in a zigzag trying to throw the monster off his trail
with the hunter watching the eagle down, and as he lined up to swoop at the rabbit
at almost a hundred miles an hour, the hunter fired and the great bird fell to the ground.
He fired at the point where the eagle was closest to the ground, not wanting to hurt him.
The rabbit lived and the hunter packed away his rifle and walked back down the hill.

Others would do the tagging and the hunter would wait for his next call……

©Joe Wilson – The Hunter…2014

Wendell! Wendell. Fetch a blanket for me please
No Wendell, the good one, that we got from the church
We've got visitors coming and I want to look my best
So you sit down quickly, don't lean and don't lurch.

Wendell and Agatha were a husband and wife
She was a little blunt now he sharp like a knife
They'd married and settled on the farm with its strife
To Wendell it seemed like the whole of his life.

They'd married in an old church afore records were kept
At least, Wendell thought that when he was being inept
But out in the fields were the flowers where he wept
And he'd dream of their beauty even as he slept.

He took Aggie out there on warm Summer days
Where they stayed and relaxed till the sunset brought haze
Then he'd drive her back home sometimes catching her gaze
And in it saw beauty just like in the old days.

Illness took so much of his Aggie away
There lives changed dramatically in every way
Her lovely dark hair had turned instantly grey
And now there was harshness in things that she'd say.

But Wendell loved Aggie with all of his might
He just took her bad moods as part of her plight
And not the great woman who he'd loved at first sight
Who'd always stood by him when they'd needed to fight.

So Wendell took his Agatha to the flowers each day
Where they sat for awhile admiring the display
And if a sad tear tried to run down his face
He'd not let her see it, he'd wipe it away.

©Joe Wilson - Wendell in love...2014

Show me no mercy for I was in the wrong
Things that I’ve done where I didn’t belong
Wipe out my sins with the blood from my veins
Spill it from my body and burn my remains.

Through centuries past I have pillaged and stole
Always ahead of the God-fearing role
Take me to hell for I fear I am lost
Actions I’ve taken always carry a cost.

But wait, I’ve been saved for reasons unknown
For what manner of evil will I have to atone
Must I roam centuries more looking for peace
Why not just **** me and speed my release.

It seems I’ve been given a new Holy task
To seek out all evil in which sinners bask
And steer them from evil and back to their God
Or smite them and bury them under the sod.

I venture forth now to quell rising tides
Of evils and witches and other things besides
The hand of my sword is now cloaked in God’s will
I get one final chance to honour Him still.

©Joe Wilson – The Traveller…2014

At the back of my mind is a small peaceful walk
Where I amble alone and I don’t have to talk
Where war in the world is a far distant nightmare
And only my personal thoughts I invite there.

If ever the bustle of life gets so fierce
That delicate bubble of sanity pierced
The final resort to losing my way
Shut down for a moment to this place I stray.

But just for a moment and then on with the show
There are things to be done and places to go
It just wouldn’t do to be all that insular
I leap from the sidelines with a little chutzpah.

So now all refreshed I return to my labours
All buoyed by my moment away from life’s sabres
Get myself to the grindstone and continue the task
Forgive me my failings is all that I ask.

My failings are many and yours may be few
We each try our best in the things that we do
If we just understood that and accepted this thing
Troubles would be less and far more hearts would sing.

Occasionally you’ll find me at the back of my mind
I’ll let your thoughts in if intentions are kind
And you’ll find that I think something similar to you
Our innocence was lost by the road as we grew.

There’s a small peaceful walk at the back of my mind
I like to go there and meet friends who are kind
It’s not really to hard to summon them there
They’re people like me who’d like the world to be fair.

©Joe Wilson – At the back of my mind…2014