A reason for most of us to feel grateful…

Listen to the sound
of children’s voices
full of excitement
at life’s wondrous choices.
Till out of the mist
comes someone like Harris
and childhood’s no longer
like Springtime in Paris.
And fear is the watchword
that they now live by
afraid in their minds
when alone they just cry.

What kind of a world
is then offered these kids
a world full of fear
maybe life on the skids.
Where someone will come
and rob them of childhood
a person they may know
not a man in a hood.

And no one believes them
it’s made worse by that
authority treads on them
much like a doormat.
And as life goes on
it gets harder to bear
such things are not simple
and so hard to share.

And the villains will come
from all kinds of posts
with their seeming good name
they’re convivial hosts.
They often have power
and influence too
which they wield like a weapon
and they wield it at you…
And the local authority
sends out a report
they’re guarding their backs
for when it comes to court.

But a child still got hurt
and who really cares
for behind some closed doors
Children still fall down stairs.
Now the laughter has gone
and the bruises will show
though some can’t be seen
but they’re there, we all know.

Another life ruined
a child in the dark
the heartless and cruel
have stolen their spark.

©Joe Wilson – A reason for most of us to feel grateful…2016

Grief and sadness…

like cobwebs
in the darkest corner
mocking the tears
that having flowed
now dry in the air
and leave
that sticky dryness
on your cheek.
And a heart that pounds
Too fast, too fast.
Till slowly
the Jack
or Jim
or Elias
lulls you to a sleep
where once again
you face the nightmares
where together
you fight
that terrible beast
that tries to do you in.
And by her side
you win.
But yet
when dawn inevitably breaks
you once again
find yourself

©Joe Wilson – Grief and sadness—2016


No place for children

How very sweet the roses smell
In the evening setting sun
As round a garden table sat
We drink fine wine and tales we tell.

Recalling things of little worth
As chat one does with friends
A little quiet spot we’ve found
Our peaceful place on Earth.

And yet – for others Hell will rain
As bombs fall from the sky
They’re simply people just like us
Caught up, in wars insane.

Such violence is the modern tone
And innocence lives no more
Where far away yet more will die
As they yield to anonymous drone.

And now the roses seem so bitter
A trifle in the scheme
While children fall to violence
And get scattered like so much litter…

©Joe Wilson – Bittersweet…2016

I choose life…

Poised between the choice to die
The choice to find that one
Who never should have gone.
To care for her in that other life
Supposedly promised to us all
Should we choose to tread a path
Which follows in the wake – of goodness.

And the choice to live
To live among those who are left
Left behind to mourn and weep.
Those whose needs are pressing
Those whose needs are alive.

I hold my memories so very dear
Of missing a one who still seems near
But yet —– I choose life!
For that which will become
If it is so…as we are promised
Will indeed come soon enough
And my time will in due course come.
But not yet…not yet.

And I would not sully – such a beautiful memory.

©Joe Wilson – I choose life…2016

The human condition…

It never occurs, how little time
We waste it so, it seems a crime
And yet a moment you could spare
To tell someone how much you care.
For in the end, nought else is worth
A fellow life upon this Earth
As each has value, as do we
And if we cared some more, we’d see.

O how destructive Man’s become
As missiles fly we hear them hum
And bullets pierce our so thin skin
That pit of despond we fall in.
So many want what isn’t theirs
It will not stop, for no one cares.

©Joe Wilson – The human condition…2016

Once more…



And yet once more
the rain will fall…
and names on lists we will

Misguided man…so driven by hate
innocent people’s fate.

The lives of so many

fallen now.

Victims once more.

They’re not the ones
they really want
but they even out

the bloody score—

It never stops.
It never will
until we realise.
We’re played for fools
we’re victims all.
For we are just
Government tools!!!

©Joe Wilson – Once more…2016

A stage in the process…

…and cracks now show in saddened heart
where torn life-fabric pulls apart
and that which stood the test of time
so far apart, no reasoned rhyme.
And where once happy flourished lives
are now replaced by sharpened knives
such pain as one could not believe
is borne by those who quietly grieve.

The cuts now show, the hearts they break
keep straight faced for pity’s sake
as through this fight they all endure
the memory stays of one so pure.
And even as tears now fall down
one overwhelmed shows furrowed frown
yet it will pass, each struggles on
they’re part of grief, they’re never gone.

©Joe Wilson – A stage in the process…2016

Promote independence, well there’s a relief…

Some time ago in an analogue age
Long, long, before connecting was the rage
A man would write letters when plighting his troth
And not by a text message feel his love’s wrath.
He’d walk to her door to promote his cause
And later, with in-laws, there sometimes were wars.
To get our own place we’d tighten our belt
As we gained independence what relief we all felt.

But yet here we are, now a digital age
Where being in networks is surely the rage
And letters aren’t written where often they were
Yet reading an email can still make you purr.
And we gained independence to write where we want
We make notes on tablets even choosing which font
Most businesses now will promote stuff online
While we exchange photos via the web, which is fine.

Yet still there is war in some desolate place
Where downtrodden people disappear without trace
Where they seek independence from terrible men
Dictators with guns who will kill, it’s just when?
And your friend’s in the thick of it writing the news
Trying to be neutral about those who abuse
When all he can do is send a message online
And you read with relief that your friend will be fine.

And the truth is we all know, it’s good common sense
To promote one’s relief at one’s independence.

© Joe Wilson – Promote independence, well that’s a relief…2016

This was written for a challenge on a different site. Three words:

Promote, Independence, Relief.


There are no winners here…



Still they show contempt for you
They shoot you, yes they surely do
But killing some of theirs for sure
Will make them hate you even more.
Yet when the bullets tear the skin
Black or white, it seems so thin
The lifeblood that begins to spread
No matter who…it’s always RED.
Each family grieves for their sad loss
As bodies lie beneath the moss
For no one wins this racist war
It only hurts our spiritual core.

Ingrained hate from years gone by
Means there are those who’ll not try
They stir those sores from yesteryear
Manipulating peoples fear
Till to the streets the people go
Hell is coming, we all know
We fail to see it face to face
We are a tragic human race.

©Joe Wilson – There are no winners here…2016

Finally, the report…

And so finally published
Blame clearly falls
It lands on poor intelligence
That decision for war still appals.
And all the strong opinions
Of those who begged, don’t go
Those protests that they all ignored
They said we didn’t know.
Yet since that time the very rich
Have grown yet richer still
While the poor share in the bullets
Death or poverty their bitter pill.
And what of those who pulled the strings
They’ve got away of course
And you can shout for justice
Till your voice grows weak and hoarse.

We never fight in the sandpits
In the gardens where the rest is just soil
But my word we fight in those sand hills there
Where below they found lots of OIL.

©Joe Wilson – Finally, the report…2016