untitled…

Older now
So very much older
A year that felt like a decade
And yet like a minute too.
And in that time
We have aged
So very much
Our eyes are that much
Dimmer.
Hearing becomes a strain
All the surrounding bustle
Just sounds like so much rain
And in days of mist
Yet even as the sun shines
‘I was so proud to know her.’
In my head, repeated lines.
It will get a little better
I often hear them say
I wonder if it will at all
If I’ll live to see that day.

©Joe Wilson – untitled…2017

On the hustings, yeah!…

Procession-To-The-Hustings-After-A-Successful-Canvass

 

It’s raining
Up go the umbrellas
But of course
It’s that time
Again!

Red roses and torches
Lesser party signs too
Adorning umbrellas
It’s what parties do.

Then out come the megaphones
That will distort the voices
Of the oily deceivers
Who tell you your choices.

Yet, mostly I fear
Right from the first line
That all we will hear
Is excreta bovine!

Vote with your conscience
Vote what you think
The outcome’s the same
For us, it will stink!!

©Joe Wilson – On the hustings, yeah!…2017

Mutton on the hoof…

A silly thought popped in my mind
A strange allegiance in my bed
An oddment that I felt for sure
Was with the cabbage on my head.
Which frankly I feel is extreme
When baked with lots of clotted cream
And served with mutton still on hoof
That climb up ladders to the roof
To yell that they are not yet dead
“Go feed on creamy cake instead!”

It’s not that one would be unkind
To eat the mutton while alive
You’d juggle lemons with great skill
While pondering foodless to survive.
For eating meat will keep you strong
And mutton stew is never wrong.
Going without is not too magical
When you take a long cabbagical
As nowt makes sense like good old mutton
With cabbage to give you that drive.

©Joe Wilson – Mutton on the hoof…2017

I was inspired by the nonsensical Mrs Jaypher…
[from The Complete Nonsense Book, edited by Lady Strachey, 1912]

Political humbuggery…

And yet once more we find ourselves here
Vote for me, vote for me
(One hears the calls so stridently)
For I will make the country a better place for all
Sentiments that fill the airwaves, it’s election time
As all of us quite ancient ones will readily recall.

Will it be better this time, O yes. O yes
But of course not, except perhaps for the gullible few
And yet still, once again we place our cross
Like fools who in truth know so much better
As we burn the spam that comes through the door
Oily promises in that creepy personal letter.

Someone will lose everything, some may gain some ground
And as always the losers are the people
In history such has always been found.

Election time — when a country is at war with itself – yet once more.

And democracy – this is no time for democracy, this is politics!! One of those rare occasions where the employer, that’s us, lose out to the employee, whose first job will be to adjust upwards his or her remuneration. Bah! Humbug!

©Joe Wilson – Political humbuggery…2017

Beside the lake, beneath the trees…

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Caught in splendour in the breeze
The glorious yellowness of them all
Can leave one breathless in the thrall.

And gaze I do at nature’s bounty
Stretched this Spring o’er every county
The daffodil, that sign of winter clear
When hopefulness replaces fear.

Now mallards swoop across the lake
A search for mate by flighty drake
As coots and moorhens build new nests
In reedbeds that will hide them best.

High in the sky the sparrowhawk
In fear below they hear his squawk
And suddenly all around is still
The hawk moves on, this time no kill.

And in the breeze those yellow waves
Such spectacle ones heart it saves
For how could not your spirits soar
Their beauty leaves you wanting more.

©Joe Wilson – Beside the lake, beneath the trees…2017

The first line and title are borrowed from
I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud by William Wordsworth.

Smugness

They go with prayer books and medicines in hand
To a faraway civil war brutalised land
Where war and death is all that lives
A land where the gun takes much more than it gives.

Where children, recruited, are taught how to kill
And women defiled at a vile warlord’s will
As here in the west we stand idly by
For this oil-free country we don’t bat a eye.

Smugness, that’s what the world suffers from
And I’m alright Jack, or how to dress for the Prom
While out in the jungle of life people die
But wrapped in our smugness we don’t hear them cry.

©Joe Wilson – Smugness…2017