Somebody cares…

Have you ever just thought running out of the door
If I ran far away to some far distant shore
Would anyone miss me or care just a fig
If I ran out the door and made off on that gig.
And would you get part way along the long road
When you stood back and wondered how heavy your load
Whether it was worth all of the heartache you’d cause
By running away without stopping to pause.

It’s likely that folks would be terribly sad
If you just ran away, which really is bad
As it seems to me that we all have a place
If we look hard enough we will see a face
That is kindly and loving and cares just for us
But tends to hold back as they don’t like a fuss…

©Joe Wilson – Somebody cares…2016

I get the message…

His night-time demons locked away
A smile — he’d now locked on his face
He went downstairs to join his wife
To the kitchen, their homes happiest place.

His wife smiled knowingly yet again
His angina was getting much worse
Yet if she broached the subject
His response was always terse.

He sat and ate his breakfast
Far too much she’d always say
And if he didn’t eat far less
She knew there’d be Hell to pay.

But he, too foolish, ate the lot
Then set off on his work-bound way
But the dark angel paid him a visit
He never made it through the day.

And she was left to mourn him
In the kitchen she sits – alone
They could have loved for many years
If he’d just lost a couple of stone.

©Joe Wilson – I get the message…2016

I’m not this man, though I could surely do with losing some weight, as can many of us. The middle of the day is much more of a problem for me. The simple fact is, if we eat a little less we will lose weight, and that along with a little exercise has to be good for us.

The unbearable waiting…


No recognisable thoughts are in his mind these days
Only sorrow for the loss, he feels so achingly sad
He had never lived alone before, it wasn’t for him, normal
His life at this time was the unhappiest he’d had.

He’d watched as she crumbled and the weight brought him sorrow
He was crushed by the heartache that accompanies such loss
He had not faired too well by himself to be quite honest
Now he sits by the grave that slowly covers with moss.

And all that he waits for is for one day to join her
The unbearable wait overwhelms him so much
Only the end when it comes can now please him
For he so hopes to find her for their hearts to retouch.

He’d loved her for all of the time he remembered
Theirs was such love that one never defines
Now he sits so lonely and awaits his dark angel
To carry him back home to the love he so pines.

©Joe Wilson – The unbearable waiting…2016

The night visitors…

Again the demons called last night
To plunge me into depths of fright
I reach for spray and balm-filled spoon
Their benefit ripped away too soon.
And all the agonies of my life
Roll before my eyes as strife
Until a wreck, I finally sleep
She who loves me will quietly weep.
As there beside me yet again
She helps to fight what is no friend
And when I wake she soothes my brow
To bring me back to here and now.
Yet pain is etched on her sweet face
I’m once more smitten by her grace.

©Joe Wilson – The night visitors…2016

A modern sonnet, but familiar story…

Down that delicate road they went
Eyes for each with such intent
In each others life, in each others arms
Each attracted to the others charms.
Yet theirs was romance frowned upon
So a love in secret they shared as one
And risks for them so dangerously taken
Would last until the world would awaken.
To the fact that we are all the same
And falling in love is never a game
For the colour of skin or a person’s sex
Are simply incidentals that vex
The narrow-minded fools who abound
Who frankly make far too much sound.

©Joe Wilson – A modern sonnet, but familiar story…2016

Who in the Hell do we think we are…

And finding ourselves
What next!
What wonder of technology
or genius thinking
could ever
thousands of years
of prejudice
and contempt,
and not the least,
Nothing that could replace
an acceptance of each other
and a coming together
of hearts
and minds
in realising
that all pervading truth.
We all live here,
we all die here.
Harmonious living
is surely less problematic.
(Here you can insert any WAR you choose),
for it has always been
Man’s greatest weakness
the thing which undermines him most
and yet seemingly,
his greatest undertaking.
Man is such a violent beast
we almost deserves no place here.
For in our selfishness
we destroy
the very beauty
of the planet itself.
Perhaps it’s time
we finally realised.
is not a practice run.
It is the real thing.

©Joe Wilson – Who in the Hell do we think we are…2016

Two Shorts…


My dearest friend…

My very, very dearest friend
I say these words so true
In faith I know not where I’d be
Were it not for you.
For when I hit rock-bottom
I know you’ll help me up
And if I feel myself alone
You’ll come and share a cup.

The simple truth is always there
It stares us in the face
The world in all its vastness
Can be a lonely place.

©Joe Wilson – My dearest friend…2016

Salted tears…

I turn and watch the noon-day sun
And salted tears dry on my face
The echoes of your perfume
Linger with the slightest trace.
So many times we came here
Yet still, I come myself
For you have all but gone now
You wandered off in silent stealth.

Yet though I hold you in my arms
Sometimes I see your fears
For you just don’t remember me
And that’s what brings the tears.

©Joe Wilson – Salted tears…2016

I wonder what Dickens would think…

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Carefully, he laid the book on the table
He’d been re-reading Oliver Twist
In those terrible poor Dickensian times
He often wondered how the poor could exist.

The rain poured down heavy on the windows
The sky matched his mood, it was grey
For after they had both done their eight hours of work
They had picked up a parcel today.

Journeys to the food bank were in silence
Both felt an extreme sense of loss
That they had to rely on charity and handouts
From a government who treated them as dross.

The food banks get more, the poor get more poor
It was ever thus and shall ever be
He wondered what Dickens would think of it all
About poverty he thought, no change he would see.

He’d look to the Houses of Parliament
No changes would he expect to see there
Then he’d look to the poor who still roam the streets
And see a government that still didn’t care.

Then he’d put his quill to notepaper
And tell them exactly what he thought
And ask if they’d do something about it
Or whether their votes had been bought.

All this the man mused as they emptied the box
As a solitary tear ran down his cheek
Then he held his wife and child in his arms
And he wept, for he just couldn’t speak.

©Joe Wilson – I wonder what Dickens would think…2016

That long, long thread…

And thus in forest splendid
I first laid eyes on you
My life was changed forever
Beneath that sky so blue.
For I have lain beside you
These forty years in peace
Yet I would lay for forty more
And thank each day for such increase.
For lonely I could be no more
Your heart is locked in me
And even when we flee this place
Wrapped in my love you’ll always be.

We move through life so much as one
Our thread reflects our love
And if I should depart here first
You’ll find me waiting up above.
My life has felt so lucky
Great loves get written of in poems
But our love is as great as all
No need to pen in tomes.
And gaze I now at your beauty
As fresh as the day we met
I can never imagine what brought you
But I thank the Heavens yet.

©Joe Wilson – That long, long thread…2016