Tales of life:   Bad things happen to good people…

There was no Happy New Year – this time
For that which had cut so deep the previous year
Seemed unable to find the door and go.

Just a hint of joy would have been alright
But no – not even that to bring some cheer
The light is on but yet still turned dim.

But snowdrops appear as a saving grace
To remind us Spring that is soon to come
And that, now so bleak, can be lifted far away.

Waiting for your return my darling one
The guilt I feel as I close my eyes to sleep
Tomorrow I’ll sit and wait with you once more.

©Joe Wilson – Bad things happen to good people…2017

Tales of life: Love brings us home…

He stepped out for just a little while
He only wanted a breath of fresh air
Yet in the time that he was gone
His life had changed he was aware.
No more the carefree easy life
That he now recognised he’d led
For now on hourly watch was he
From rising till he went to bed.

Though still he wouldn’t change a thing
For life and love had brought them here
His role was now to take good care
And those he loved, protect from fear.

He rises now with renewed vigour
Old age is such a powerful trigger.

©Joe Wilson – Love brings us home…2017

Two old friends…

In the streets we lived, Hugh and I
Where an old penny-piece was like gold
Where folks only had the clothes on their back
In the streets where Hugh and I lived.

And children like us didn’t get many toys
For the money there was, was thin spread
So those that we had we played with for years
In the streets where Hugh and I lived.

And two score and ten was a long life for men
Mothers oft raised the kids on their own
Yet raise us they did as they worked to their grave
In the streets where Hugh and I lived.

We didn’t have much, but we knew what we had
And the struggles it took to get by
But the kinship was there and the love it was all
At the core in the streets where we lived.

And though all those streets have long been pulled down
It’s only the memories that remain
We’re just two old men now who talk of such things
And the streets back where Hugh and I lived.

©Joe Wilson – Two old friends…2017

Gifts from abroad…

Busy ports, container ships
Filled by cranes with tightened grips
Thousands of them in each load
Sail the world on seaward road.
Maersk is one and P & O
Carrying goods for every joe
Catching tides where’re they sail
Weathered seamen tell the tale.

And in the midst of all that’s sent
A gift is there for you that’s meant
To bring a smile to your sweet face
You make the world a better place.
Yet such a gift is far too small
For one who makes me feel so tall.

©Joe Wilson – Gifts from abroad…2017

Before he puts pen to paper…

What will the poet write today
As he unfurls this modern play
Will there be lines all filled with song
With words that carry the day along.
And subject matter, what will he choose
Romance and stars or peoples’ blues
Or will perhaps he strive to change
The thoughts of men whose minds are strange.
For can a man with written word
Effect such change from the absurd
When those who clamour and give voice
Are never listened to by choice.

Thus poets make their metered point
Whilst soldiers in baptism anoint
And innocent ones fall to the sounds
Six pounds of pressure to fire the rounds.
Meanwhile in safety shouting still
Elected ones test soldiers will
And so the poet writes this down
His tear-filled eyes and furrowed frown
As he relates insanity
For words are that which sets him free.

©Joe Wilson – Before he puts pen to paper…2017

The fear of public speaking…


Upon that discovery
That I was quite good
At gathering each single fact
All manner of topics
My nature it was
The pleasure so real
Not an act.
To continue to learn
Is freedom to me
Knowledge is always
And will be the key.

I would learn of a thing
Then I would learn even more
To know about stuff
Makes one feel more secure.

Yet then it had its downside too
The way of imparting
The knowledge I knew.

‘You boy, Wilson, get up now
Go there to the front and stand
And tell all the class of
The Roman Invasion
And leave nothing out
Or perhaps you’ll tell us
Of Prometheus
And why he is Unbound’
Thus I stood there at the front
And whispered so terrified
For though I tried, I really did
I could not make a sound.

To publicly echo what I felt
A nightmare beyond Hell
And yet I really wanted
To pass on what I’d learned.
But a star on the chart
On the classroom wall
I rarely, rarely earned.

It always was my Achilles heel
To speak and to be heard
As more and more I stumbled
The more I sounded absurd.

But when I expressed
Myself in verse
I finally shrugged
Off shyness’ curse
And streams of nonsense
From me flow
Through people’s ears
And out they go
Yes indeed
I shed that curse
I found release
In poems’ verse…

©Joe Wilson – The fear of public speaking…2017

A new dawn…

The sun came out this morning
And snowdrops
Popped their tiny white and green heads up
The ground was covered in white frost
As Spring announced that she was on her way.
So yet again the seasons change
Other changes happened
And are not to be undone
We brush ourselves down yet once more
As we now ready ourselves, to move on.

The feet feel heavy as they take those first steps
Into a world
Of challenge and new hope
Yet there still lives a taste of bitterness
That makes it hard to hold back
Those salty tears.
And though our memories will linger forever
Of a sweetness now just beyond our reach
We’ll tell all about that magical goodness
In the stories we tell and will teach…

©Joe Wilson – A new dawn…2017