All His children…

 

He leaves the village and takes his bow

and soon in silence his prey he’ll know

he’ll kill a boar and his family is fed

life in the margins is that or be dead.

He’ll cut the beast down the centre line

give half to his neighbour, he is that kind

this is their way, these people are fair

with their neighbours and friends they always share.

But let us not forget the soul of the boar

He reached into its heart and his then did soar

the beast served its purpose, fed people, went rotten

its soul though was pure, and by Him, not forgotten

©Joe Wilson – All His children… 2014

I still live in hope…

I wandered into a maelström
where the shouting turned to war
I wished them all a good day
cast a spell, they were no more.

Would that real life were so easy
that men of violence could be swayed
by a simple spell or by reason
enmity would remain un-displayed

To think of the peace we could all enjoy
at the nurturing of every child
all of the knowledge that could be spread
in a world where war was reviled.

©Joe Wilson – I still live in hope… 2014

Beneath a tree deep in thought…

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…2015

The Family Silver Sale Or The Stafford Hospital Lament…

I didn’t realise. I was a fool
Just another government tool
Beavering away, working hard
Until I got the pensioner’s card.

And now my ancient bones all ache
I’ll need NHS for my health’s sake
But a third of contracts in sickness’ fray
Like my local hospital, they were given away.

People’s views all treated with disdain
The Health Service reeling from such internal pain
While the wealthy go private, it’s simple for them
The ire of voters won’t be so easy to stem.

©Joe Wilson – The Family Silver Sale or The Stafford Hospital Lament… 2014

Hard Fights And Very Small Triumphs. A life … A death.

The small private ward was now peaceful, but stark
No one was lying asleep in the dark
A young man had fought there all night for his life
She’d waited outside, his pregnant young wife.

The fight had been lost and there was no disguise
That could easily cover the hurt in the eyes
Of the doctors and nurses who’d seen the man’s pain
As they’d struggled to save him, as they’d struggled in vain.

Above and along in a different room
A baby emerged from a young mother’s womb
It was pretty and perfect as babies should be
The cord had been cut and the baby was free.

The husband and wife knew that they had been blessed
When their daughter was placed by the new mothers breast
She drank and she fed as her journey began
And they thought about names as they started to plan.

Very soon after the young man had died
His wife lost her baby and everyone cried
At the terrible waste they had witnessed that night
All wishing that they could make everything right.

But life in a hospital has to go on
There’s always more caring that needs to be done
Others will wait where the pregnant wife sat
But with happier outcomes, they all pray for that.

 

©Joe Wilson – Hard fights and very small triumphs. A life … a death…1994

I wrote this soon after I had been in hospital myself for a bypass, the young man was rushed in following a road accident. The maternity ward was in the wing opposite to the way our beds faced. Sadness and joy all at the same time, and I felt like I was adrift somewhere halfway along.

It shouldn’t be this way…

Our journey is one that’s fraught with danger
In decisions oft our choices make us doubt
But right to our final breath and from the manger
Guidance from our parents should help us out.

Oft-times we think ourselves alone.

The pain we feel can break us into pieces
With wreckage of us strewn across the floor
A gathering sense of wrong creates the creases
Of a life that doesn’t want to breathe any more.

Oft-times we think ourselves alone.

Late at night when shadows begin their taunting
And the world will close itself behind locked doors
Is the time when sorrow begs the most affection
It’s always someone’s fault, even mine or yours.

Oft-times we really are alone.

©Joe Wilson – It shouldn’t be this way…2014

 

I see no compassion…

She was so young
she was poorly educated
she took drugs and drank far too much
she was so vulnerable
so very pregnant
so terribly scared
so desperately poor…and alone.
 

She took a step!

 

She took more drugs
and drunk more booze
and figured to die
she had nothing to lose.
 

But the baby!

 
It didn’t die.
She didn’t die.
 

Did she get help?
Was she given counselling?
Is she now able to breathe a sigh of relief
that someone stepped in for her!
 

No!
 

She is in prison.
She is charged with
the attempted murder
of her baby.

 
Of course she was wrong.
But the law is too strong.
She needed help.
She needs help.
 

She is a victim too!

 

©Joe Wilson – I see no compassion… 2014

Self-made Armageddon…

And the days were spent in wonder
at all the horrors He’d seen
He sent unholy flooding and chaos
To wash the planet clean.

To see if change was ever made
He waited then two thousand years
But horror still was all around
And what He saw proved all His fears.

Can man not recognise his fate
can he not see when he is wrong
can man not see of His design
that words like peace and love mean strong.

The fiery pits that destroy our Earth
aren’t in the depths of Hell
they’ll be the fire and cordite
of that last exploding shell!!

©Joe Wilson – Self-made Armageddon… 2014

An ode to trees…

Slim grows the Willow sapling
before it blossoms wide
while through the gate of mighty Oak
the Ivy grows up by its side,
and seated on this chair of Beech
I gaze at the Rowan berries
reduce in number as I watch
as birds are making merry,
and walking round the meadow
where Lime trees grow quite tall
the Redwoods push up to the sky
to dominate them all.
We pass the nearby churchyard
where Yew trees always grew,
the tree that has the sorry task
of saying goodbye to you.

 

©Joe Wilson – An ode to trees… 2014

Ere long…

 

 

Wouldst that I could walk with you

Down verdant paths near forests deep

While buzzards hunt from lofty view

Nocturnal creatures gently sleep.

 

To silent ripples of narrow brook

Your gentle hand fills mine

A journey ere long undertook

My life with you divine.

 

And as we stroll in Nature’s thrall

My heart and yours as one

I cannot bear to think of times

When these such things are gone.

 

 

©Joe Wilson – Ere long… 2014

 

As always this is written for and to my beloved wife without whom
I would not wish to draw a single breath.