…it will never stop…

old-man-reading-200x200

He sits there reading, happy enough now in his own company
what is it he reads -ah yes – a Tale of Two Cities
a favourite, but one which evokes an old memory
of long ago when he was just a young man.

Of a time when war raged across Europe like a plague
when it was in the grip of a madman bent
on seizing power everywhere and not caring how
and men like him and many of his friends went.

But then there seemed a real purpose to it
and besides, he met Françoise and loved her so
and later with many of his friends now dead
it was over so he went back home with Françoise instead.

Now she also is no more, killed by muggers who were armed
and he sits all alone, no girls, no sons
wondering why his country’s leaders
can never see the futility of all the guns.

Once more the planet rages with war
once more there will be unnecessary deaths
he finds himself wishing the impossible thought
the non-invention of guns, and it leaves him short of breath.

Sadly men would have just found another way to kill each other
– and that is the real problem. It never goes away.

 

©Joe Wilson – …it will never stop…2014

Tick tock…

stethescope

Tick    tock    tick    tock

Moments passed
Nothing.

Tick    tock    tick    tock

No single thought could fill his mind other than the fact
that he was in his house alone, that and the fact
that he was having a heart attack and there was no phone.

Tick    tock    tick    tock

The pain was unbearable but nothing like as bad
as the thought that filled his head at that moment
the thought of never seeing his beloved wife or children again.
The thought of never sharing a private moment before sleeping
and always seeming to be holding hands as they wake.

Tick    tock    tick    tock

Please! Somebody please!!

I don’t believe in you, but please help me
I don’t believe in you, but please help me

If you are there please help me. Please!

Tick    tick   tick    tock    tick    tick    tick    tock
Tick    tick   tick    tock    tick    tick    tick    tock
Tick    tick   tick    tock    tick    tick    tick    tock

Tick    tick   tick    t

 

©Joe Wilson – Tick tock 2014

This is a familiar but fortunately infrequent feeling,
but with luck and good management I always have a phone with me.

Tender is the heart…

NiePytajONic
Artwork by NiePytajONic
Tender is the heart that breaks at night
when hurt will come and cause such ache
and sleep will never come to stop
the tears that fill the deep dark lake.

A kindly word could change things
but so rarely is it heard
it would show the pain is understood
but she never hears a word.

He lies there too in his own thoughts
not beginning to understand
they loved each so much one time
their life now is not as was planned.

But how very different it could have been
if only they had both spoken
it had only needed some kindness
and now both their hearts are broken.

Tender is the heart at night that loves
as it searches for its soul-mate
it needs to feel that it is cherished
before it suddenly gets too late.

Tender is the lonely heart
tender the lonely soul
pride can make you drift apart
but your heart will bear the toll.

 

©Joe Wilson – Tender is the heart…2014

Just lazing about

Stefan Laube
Stefan Laube

Easing into the day in languid torpidity
he slowly unwinds to face the sun
and like every other sloth before him
he moves so very very slowly
you wouldn’t even know he’d begun.

©Joe Wilson – Just lazing about 2014

Let’s hear it for the sloth 🙂

Angela called – again…

coronary-artery-spasm
coronary-artery-spasm

Angela called again today
this time she was borne in the wind
she tore away at my heart again
she certainly is no friend.

the pain travelled right up through my neck
then made its way down my arm
there is nothing at all about Angela
that I could call an endearing charm.

So then I got the big guns out
my nitro-lingual spray
I sprayed the devil right under my tongue
till slowly Angela flew away.

I’ve had the attack, the by-pass too
a long time ago plus a day
and I guess that the odd call from Angela
Is really such a small price to pay.

 

©Joe Wilson – Angela called – again 2014

My Children

 

Daphne & I, and our children. Our son was on holiday from New Zealand and our daughter was up from London.
Daphne & I, and our children. Our son was on holiday from New Zealand and our daughter was up from London.

The dark night now surrounds me
I am all alone in my world
There is no one here distracting
I am thinking now of my girl.

I was always such a lucky man
I have children, one and two
Last year I almost lost my son
This year my daughter too.

My son had a head-on collision
Almost twelve thousand miles away
But now almost eighteen months later
He is now fully back into play.

But my daughter, my beautiful daughter
Chemo treatment made her go bald
But she’s back on the upside now smiling
I weep when her bravery’s recalled.

Of course she will still need some treatment
But she’s better, and we’re now almost cool
And I know by the end of her kid’s holidays
She’ll not need a headscarf for school.

I think of my son, I think of my girl
I’m grateful my luck has been fine
For if I was to lose either one of them
I just couldn’t finish this last line……….

 

©Joe Wilson – My Children 2014

I’ve written this because it is bursting out of my chest.

The January Sales (his only visit)

Getty Images
Getty Images

While those around him were going mad
he stood completely still
then he saw what he was looking for
picked it up and went to the till.

The madness took him by surprise
it was truly beyond belief
so when he’d found what he wanted
he’d left with a sigh of relief.

Things were thrown and tempers flared
it was well beyond the pail
and that was the only visit he made
to a January sale.

©Joe Wilson – The January Sales (his only visit) 2014
[just a bit of fun]

Accuser accused

I never said you’d done it
though we both know that you had
the way you choose to think of me
so often leaves me sad’

I don’t know how I’ve hurt you
I never meant to charm
perhaps my easy-going ways
just cause you too much harm.

But we were drifting slowly
and then you suddenly perked up
the way a person might do
when they’ve found a more full cup.

But I never said you’d done it
I’d know that I had lost
and now you don’t believe me
and that’s too great a cost.

©Joe Wilson – Accuser accused 2014

…the worst of his fears…

beating_edited

It was a grey dawn that held an ominous weight about it
all the curtains were drawn shut and yet somehow he knew
the wind-driven rains that had howled in the dark night
and the long-buried secret that would surely now be on view.

The man who’d abused him all of those long years ago
had disappeared like a ghost in the middle of the night
and now there would be those who would find out at last
why he’d suddenly vanished from everyone’s sight.

He’d flayed him so often he now hunched his back
where his skin had knotted and mended like string
but the worst of his fears – the drunken attacks
humiliating tears and the terror it would bring.

He stood it for so long, it should never have been
this pain from a guardian, so vile and obscene
till one day a knife found its way into his hand
at the time of the stabbing he was only fourteen.

Being out on a farm and there being just them two
he was terrified he’d be taken far away
so he buried the guardian as deep as he could
and hoped underground was where he would stay.

He tended the farm and made it quite a success
and carried on as best as he could
he finished education and returned to the farm
where he waited almost hoping for last night’s flood.

The terrible secret that he’d kept all these years
made him avoid making friends so he’d no kind of life
he watched television and he read many books
and discounted all thoughts of a girl or a wife.

How he’d survived the twenty years since he just didn’t know
he was lonely and so terribly sad
and though he knew what he’d done was all that he could
he was painfully aware that it was wicked and bad.

And so in a way the storm held mixed blessings
he could finally admit to all what he’d done
he knew that his life would never be the same
but in his thirty-fours there was not a thing he had won.

With reluctance and a heavy heart he drew curtains back
rain water and mud flooded his land six feet deep
and though sheds had fallen and hedgerows lay bent
the ground yielded nothing and his secret it would keep.

Slowly he now realised that he’d wanted this release
but he’d not be believed if he called anyone
he couldn’t bear the thought of more years of disgrace
so finally, desperately, he loaded his gun………..

©Joe Wilson – …the worst of his fears…2014

huddled together like lovers…

from AgeUK
from AgeUK

They sat in blankets as they tried to keep warm
penniless with no heating and no coal to burn
while outside they heard the violent storm
the blizzard of snow and ice all churn.

Slowly they both began to freeze to death
there was no-one to help or ease their plight
they were just poor and lonely old sisters
who would probably die in the dark of this night.

They were just another statistic of winter
a cold one much worse than some others
they had eked out their money on eating
so they now huddled together like lovers.

There are so many who suffer in winter
and we really should spare them a thought
we should all keep an eye out for our neighbour
as help, due to their pride is not sought.

It is dawn now and the sisters are frozen
one died and the other breathes slow
but there is no-one to even take notice
and in a short while like her sister she’ll go.

©Joe Wilson – huddled together like lovers…2014