My beloved parents…

His now withered hand hardly moved
and yet I still knew what he meant
but it hurt me so to see my Dad
once a man so powerfully strong
be brought down by a bad heart
and by arthritis and so cruelly bent.

His last eleven years were all in pain
it was plain for all to see
he worked all through the second vile war
sometimes in long eighteen-hour shifts
but he died at only fifty-two
in front of my siblings and me.

I will never know how my dear Mum coped
there were six of us to raise
and though she struggled, oh how she struggled
she fed and clothed us by means
It was only much later as an adult
that I understood and looked back in praise.

©Joe Wilson – My beloved parents…2014

What a ride…

I took a walk with you that day
Ere long you gave to me your heart
I gave you mine in love and hope
And now we’ll never grow apart.

Storm clouds do come and then they go
We move along within the flow
And when the sun comes out to shine
We’re out there too and moving slow.

We’ve eased along throughout the years
You’ve sometimes chased the fears from me
And I in turn have dried your tears
In love that’s how it’s meant to be.

But what a journey, what a ride
you are my muse and my best friend
Those epic times, you by my side
I’d do every bit with you again.

©Joe Wilson – What a ride…2014

Frailty

“I think therefore I am” Descartes once said
But with no thought left is one then dead?
For now, my head is full of thought
Some is random and some was taught
I fight so hard to keep it full
Against inevitable ageing’s pull
I’ll write my words, do crosswords too
Anything that will stir my stew
I’ll fight it every which way too
By always finding things to do
But if it finally comes to pass
You’ll find me in the old long grass.

In the warren that is my mind
I remember that I must be kind
Ere long will I remember that
Growing frail is such a twat!

©Joe Wilson – Frailty… 2014

“Cogito ergo sum” “Je pense, donc je suis
Rene Descartes (31 March 1596 – 11 February 1650)

Lost…

He sits very still in concentration
In his search for the memory within
And he lets his mind go wandering free
As he looks for the answer to what will be
And then he spots it and grasps the thought
The only solution, his last resort
So finally he looks out of his eyes
To see the problem that his brain denies
He can now remember how to climb the stairs
But chooses instead to sit in one of the chairs
The answer has all but flown away
The stairs will wait for another day
And later with the thought completely gone
He no longer remembers there ever was one.

©Joe Wilson – Lost… 2014