Has man ever really stopped and looked
at all the beauty that Nature has cooked
arrayed throughout the world to see
by stumbling humans like you and me.

Deserts filled with shifting sand
moved by winds and Nature’s hand
creating dunes of epic scale
compared to this we are so frail.

Rill and brook, stream and creek
all a river’s end they seek
as they head for oceans wide
moving always with the tide.

Filled with fish of every size
sometimes caught for dinner’s prize
and on their trek it’s life or death
they struggle on for every breath.

Through the forests these rivers flow
passing trees whose names we know
they’re the lifeblood of our world
new breath with every leaf unfurled.

Too often though we cut them down
turning green land into brown
and yet somehow there are still flowers
grown by Nature’s greater powers.

They brighten days in glorious hues
so many colours, too many to choose
in meadows watered by rivers’ flow
past those trees whose names we know.

And on to seas with sharks and whales
the mighty Blues with their giant tails
whose flukes are wider than football fields
what majestic beauty the ocean yields.

To care for our planet we would do well
it’s a living thing not just a shell
it isn’t ours to destroy and maim
it’s future health should be our aim.

©Joe Wilson – It isn’t ours…2015

I was never one to complain - like hell, I complain about all kinds of everything
Nonetheless I had never for a moment thought that I would be the one chosen to go
To travel that far with no guarantee I could ever come home
To live with the knowledge that we might lose everything I valued
But it was a risk I knew that one day I would take, a choice that one day I knew I'd make.

But Mars! This was gonna be one hell of a journey
One we'd trained for for years, one we'd hoped for all our lives
But way back then none of us had children and wives.

Blast off successful and we were heading up at thousands of feet a second
No going back now. ******* it, it was better than all the *** he'd ever smoked
But it was serious stuff, despite all of this and that that they joked.

But then when he thought about it he realised the nonsense of it all
We can't even look after the planet that we live on
What right have we to go and probably destroy another one!!!

The spell was broken - he woke up. It was just a dream.

©Joe Wilson - στα όνειρα (In dreams)2014

A whimsical bit of nonsense about distance.

I do not know as fine a girl
Except of course her mother
Nor yet know I a finer man
Than he who is her brother.

Their mother gave her love to me
I keep it in my heart
It warms me up on lonely nights
If ever we’re apart.

Our girl and boy moved far away
But love binds us so tight
And when we meet and chat and things
Our eyes light up so bright.

Nothing stands between us
Our bond will always be
We are the very essence
Of a loving family.

©JRW2014

I thought I had passed this way often before
there were things I absolutely recalled
things that stirred in me old treasured memories
feelings that had previously left me enthralled.

And of course I had, for love is just like that
each memory is a memory to enjoy and repeat
the love that stands by you and with you each day
will also make memories that make one complete.

All through these years of a life filled with love
one person has stood by my oft foolish side
and as memories come flooding back from long years ago
the woman still here now then stood as my bride.

We pursued life together and our memories are shared
a life spent without her I couldn’t possibly have taken
and though now with age our passion grows gentler
our love for each other is as ever unshaken.



©Joe Wilson – Reflections 2014

Within his head there are thoughts, so many
most are irrelevant and thus ten a penny
though rare amongst his brain's detritus
a thought whirls round just like St. Vitus
yet as he struggles this thought's recall
he knows not if it be grand, or small.

And then it's gone and is no more
remembers not he, nor is he sure
thus he returns to comfort's while
wanders round his country pile
his life of wealth is all for naught
soundness of mind cannot be bought.



©Joe Wilson - Some thing cannot be bought...2015

He sat beneath the acacia tree
and watched the world go by
its green-golden leaves bouncing joyously
while the breeze caused a rustling sigh.
He thought about life as he’d lived it
as a son, and a father, and as a man
and he smiled at some of the memories
he remembered from when his journey began.

Playing with his brothers as a toddler
and his sister who’d cared for him so
he hoped they’d all known how he loved them
not often enough said years ago.
There’d been plenty of sadness on his journey
they lost their father, grandparents they hardly knew
he lost some friends on the way that he’d never forget
and sadly, there was his beloved brother too.

But sitting there under this particular tree
looking over his little back lawn
her face came into his mind now
it swept in as if on the wind-borne.
She’d come into his life as a saviour
he knew he’d been blessed all along
while he was a weak selfish person
she was so beautiful, and witty and strong.

Their first years together she’d carried him
thinking back he’d always known it was true
how he wished he’d been a much better person
“But you’re good”, she said, “and I chose you.”
The children came along and life really changed
no time then for the fast social whirl
yet neither would have chosen a different life
than the joy from their boy and their girl.

Some hardships inevitably changed things
but they carefully steered their way through
and their love remained strong as expected
the most important ingredient between two.
Their children grew up, made roads for themselves
after tenuous steps they too settled down
now the grandchildren help keep them both youthful
with such fun and energy that astounds.

So he sits there under the acacia
and the memories linger awhile
there’s thankfully so many happy memories
that recall always causes a smile.
Then he reaches across as the wind blows
a silver hair falling out of place
he pushes it away and back over her ear
as he kisses her still lovely face.

©Joe Wilson – Beneath a tree  deep in thought

Opinions lurk at the back of our mind
at the front there are yet many others
in recording in voice or writing in odes
we convey them to our sisters and brothers.

An onus is on us to take care what we pen
for our opinions can vary so much
but never hold back even under attack
your thoughts and opinions they can’t touch.

But there are some quite sane rules to stick to
for instance we shouldn't purposely offend
and when you’re writing a factual poem
be confident it’s what you can defend.

Punctuation and spelling are important of course
as they help the reader  follow your flow
you choose the genre and you choose the words
learn your craft and let your minds go!

There were thousands of great poets before us
many thousands will follow us too
but we are the ones with the pens in our hands
and history might reflect what we do.

©Joe Wilson – Pen in hand…2015

Everything is ugly, no beauty is found anymore
The unhappiness of troubled youth, garbage strewn by the fold
Those lumbering fools down on the farm, where habits are such a bore
All serve to think you ill of me, and the love for you I hold.

The cruelness of mortal life, is so vile as it unfolds
I wish that I could change all that, and show it just to you
And all the glory of the heavens, and stories yet untold
Tell of the love I hold so dear, my heart belongs to you.

©Joe Wilson – If could feel as I do…2015

Written in the style of W B Yeats (1865 - 1939)
after rereading The Lover Tells Of The Rose In His Heart

Speeding along not a care in the world
the young man and his beautiful girl
driving in an open-topped E-type Jag
they were happy
...............................and life was a whirl.

They were racing along the motorway
fast approaching Gravelly Hill
when a tanker jack-knifed in front of them
..........I can hear their screaming still.

They had nowhere to go but under
the trailer, however, was too low
and I, in a car a short distance back
saw both of their heads suddenly
........................................................­.go.

One head rolled onto the hard shoulder
and sat there staring right back at me
while the other bounced over the railing
and fell into Witton
.....................................for all there to see.

It put me off my lunch I can tell you
for that's where I was going at the time
and if it wasn't for the fact that it's totally true
it would be a case of the ridiculous
.....................................from the sublime.



©Joe Wilson - Heads, you lose...2015

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

So round they come again, selling their wares
Trying to convince you the worth of the shares
Telling you all of the wonders they’ll do
When we are in power, we’re working for you.
It’s a great con of course, they just want your vote
Post all elections, folk don’t get a note
To say how important that cross was you made
All hopes for the future are surely, put-paid.

The rules are stark and simple, and this is how they go
One side’s for the people, the other’s for business & co.

It's more expensive, the challenge, of looking after folk
The side that’s into business see the poor as just a joke
Some say even she, that woman called of iron
Was kinder to the nation, but that’s a bit of a try-on.
She tore the hearts, from where they’ll never come back
Under the same yoke again, and we’re under attack
Of course there are several new ways we can think
Yet if we don’t change soon, we’re all going to sink.

The rules are stark and simple, and this is how they go
One side cares about you, the others don’t, you know!

©Joe Wilson – And so it goes…2015

In my little house I live my good life
With my written down words and my beautiful wife.

As the years trundle by and we fight off the ills
I write it all down and keep taking the pills.

I divide my day neatly into eight-hour thirds
Eight of them sleeping, eight on my words.

The remainder I spend entirely with my wife
For without her great love there would be no good life.

Sometimes a thought comes that just makes me cry
I can’t write it down, even hard as I try.

I write all the words that come out of my fingers
And do it real quick while the memory lingers.

Perhaps if someone reads this long after I’m dead
They won’t delve too deeply inside of my head.

But see that with words, my house and my wife
I was really contented with my little life.

©JRW2014

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.

Did you call last night, I never heard a sound
just the distant hum of a soul quite nearby
only another lonely person passing by.

Life on the street as a lonely old *****
Under the bridge and out of sight
I live in a loneliness in my own plight

But things you left, things I saw
bits of messages left for me
why won’t you go and let me be.

Is it the ***** or is it the drugs
why can’t I make out the words
it makes no more sense than all the dog turds.

Did you leave anything when you called last night
I’ve thought once or twice about ending my life
But I’d get more drugs if I sold the knife.

How the hell did it get to this point
I’m always to far gone to care
I’m not even sure that I’m even there.

©Joe Wilson – Life, or is it…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

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

Looking back I see a time


Before I was happy

You were not there, only

A crushing pain that

Tried to break my heart



Then you came…and I was saved.

©Joe Wilson – Looking Back 2013

A whisper of your perfume fills my senses
And yet again I'm dropped to my knees
The very thought like a shiver
Causes my heart to freeze.

I can't go on like this much more
You went and I'm on my own
My heart's in a stress I can't endure
The pain of the loss aches my bones.

Finding myself in our old haunts
Thinking of your loving smile
Imagining that you're by my side
I'll gain strength for a little while.

Standing here before this stone
With your name engraved in gold
With our little boy who holds my hand
I'm forced to remain controlled.

His little face so sad and pale
Such tears have burnt his face
His pain from knowing that you'll not return
That you've gone to a different place.

The cancer took you away from me
It tore our life to a shred
But our little chap will need me
So I'll hide away all my dread.

Your presence is yet still with me
I can sense you all around
To me you're not beneath this stone
You'll never be in the ground.



©JRW2014

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