Once more the baubles…


So packed away once more, Christmas
The tree to be recycled
You do that don’t you!

Very soon, just as you put away the baubles and lights
That long awaited winter snow finally arrives.
How very much nicer they’d have looked in the snow.

Not long after the Chinese New Year
Near the end of January it is this year
A young man’s fancy, if not already
Turns to thoughts of lust, sorry, love
And as soon as you can say ‘In like Flint’
We have just the thing, St. Valentine’s Day
To help him in his quest.
Such times can leave the mouth quite parched.
But one can only hope of course
He didn’t over do it on Pancake Day
And that he is fit to celebrate, forgetting at his peril
Ah! Mothering Sunday in the third month of March.

And then of course there’s Will Shakespeare’s Day
On April Twenty-third
Not forgetting Ramadan and then Father’s Day
Would really be absurd.
Then various solstice, equinox and even Yom Kippur
He’s free then up to Halloween,
Then Guy Fawkes, the not so pure.

Settling back then, Remembrance Day
And we’re back in the winter once again
For after Diwali and Advent
It’s back to Christmas my friend.

So out with the lights and on with the show
It’s happening all over again
But this time put the lights in the cupboard
The loft is for much younger men.

©Joe Wilson – Once more the baubles…2016

Worn down by sorrow…


He stepped out into uncertainty
What would this day send his way
Blanking his mind to possibilities
He’d see what came into play.

Yesterday hadn’t been do bad
He’d made it to the end
But the pain that nestled in his heart
Though friends distract, it would never mend.

And tomorrow, what of tomorrow
Assuming he lasts out the night
He’ll step out uncertain once again
Emotional wreck, but he keeps it in tight.

And that is now his three day life
Yesterday, today and tomorrow
It’s the way he manages to live his life
Or else he’d drown in his sorrow.

For what is a man when cast alone
But a wayward in need of a port
Without the anchor of love to hold
His worth is reduced down to nought,

Quite soon the hours meant nothing
He rarely now bothered with food
His friends no longer distract him
And he’s fearful he darkens the mood.

Thus what might it say on his tombstone
He pined right away till he died
He foolishly let his good friendships sail
Those who’d always been by his side.

Sensible people live in company
Fools often die alone.

©Joe Wilson…2016

Winter floods…

And so the Winter came
Inexorable indeed, as sure as
Night follows day.
Wet so far this year
With ground so sodden
That we might fear
That if it rains so very hard
In places there’ll be Hell to pay.
The inevitability of floods again
Perhaps in the Somerset Levels
Where at least
they’ve forced some dredging
Out of those political devils.

As with health, education
And being secure
Money should be spent
On the land for sure.
But one wonders sometimes
About brown paper packets
From crooked men
With their crooked rackets
That disappear into certain pockets
And ease the signing of particular dockets.

For it’s not the concrete
That covers the land
But where the government
Allows it put
It’s no use building
On marshland
You’d think they’d understand.
Yet I’ve no doubt at all
That cash changes hands
Perhaps not these days
In stretched rubber bands.
Yet in a place
Of expenses fraud
Filled by those
Who decide our fate
I’m minded of
Wise words I heard
It’s often said
Crooks congregate.

©Joe Wilson – Winter floods…2016


He wasn’t always like this, so poor
Nor did he used to wear that frown
But one day he got the depression
From then on the way was just down.

He never saw it coming at all
One day was the same as tomorrow
But out of the blue she just left him
And that was the start of his sorrow.

It’s true to say he lived for his work
He was ruthless in doing the job right
But the price he paid was too much to bear
For not keeping his love in his sight.

Now down in the gutter just scraping to live
He has visions of those days in his past
But a pass of a bottle of cheap whisky
And that image of beauty doesn’t last.

One day he woke and forgot who he was
He raged and he screamed but for nought
Now he’s strapped to a bed in a room somewhere
He bewildered as his head just won’t hold a thought.

©Joe Wilson – Depression…2016

That party…

It’s fair to say I will be writing drivel
Say what you will though for I’ll not snivel
But I know I’m drunk, I’ve had four large glasses
Of bourbon and later rum laced with molasses.
At the moment I’m quaffing Jim Beam Double Oak
Inured as I am, it don’t make me choke
But in fairness I’m supping a coffee as well
Though I wouldn’t try driving, that I can tell.
The point of my ditty I must just explain
I really must make it all perfectly plain
I’m attending a party where such is the norm
Yet to be frankly honest, it’s not going a storm.
‘O hello, great time, yes fab, must do it again’
Perhaps we can go now, it’s well after ten
Then something I realised, I’m so out of luck
The party’s at our house, so here I am stuck.

©Joe Wilson – That party…2016

True love…

Sitting quietly at my desk, pen held loosely in the hand
I again recall that slightly heady smell of your perfume
And long forgotten memories begin to filter through my mind
That fill me with their happiness and drive away the gloom.

Two score years and four you’ve sat beside me as my wife
And not a day has ever passed that I have failed to love you
For you have been the compass that has guided me so well
Love has conquered all — without doubt, that is true.

©Joe Wilson – True love…2016

The consequences of free will…

Rested and Risen
He went out in search
Of the Lord.
Not needing to look
So very far
He looked for Earth’s
New monstrous scar.
Tragically, another war
Where people ran
Where people bled
Seeming to happen
More and more.
‘Why this?’ he asked
A weeping Lord
‘Why must men always kill?’
‘My Son, I cannot stop this
For I gave them all free will.’
‘But you could stop it My Father
With just a wave of your hand.’
‘I cannot My Son, I’m sorry too
But they must learn to understand.’

‘You’ve seen a new-born baby child
They only know how to love
Any hatred learnt as they grow up
Isn’t gifted from above.
And all throughout the centuries
Man has raped and pillaged the land
They’ve treated each other in similar kind
It’s difficult to understand.
They invaded each others country
Robbed gold and silver from source
Then violence rears its ugly head
It seems mans only recourse.

But there are so many others too
Who are different, do so much good
Who reflect all the wonderful qualities
That all humankind really should.
Some work hard in the family home
Raising children to be wise and good
For those who nurture their children
Peace is something that’s well understood.
Others patch up the wounded and spread good cheer
Never asking rewards for them self
They work under fire in war zones
Putting at risk their own health.

These are the people the Earth should be filled with
For they are the planet’s real wealth.

©Joe Wilson – The consequences of free will…2016

Untitled thoughts…

Heavy mist
Matched his mood
Everywhere so damp
Once again
Brought on his cramp.
Still he supposed
It could be worse
Rising sadness
Bitter and terse.
Besides, others now
To think about
Behind the mask
His heart cries out.
First’s the worst
Is what they say
It feels like the first
Each single day.
And at Easter
Birthdays, Christmas too
He dons the mask
It’s what he’ll do.
And all the sadness
All the tears
Stretch out before
In endless years.
Where once they sat
Round table, four
That empty space
Leaves hearts so sore.

©Joe Wilson – Untitled though…2016

The spy who was…

The winter sun
does nothing to warm
the old, weary man
who sits alone
writing his memoir.

He sits at
a small French writing desk
his wife had bought for him
such a long time ago.
It’s position is by the garden window
to catch the sun.

There he wrestles with his thoughts
Should I tell of this?
Should I reveal that?
Would anyone gain from the knowing?
And what of the pain I’d be sowing?
He’d thought of this for so many months
As he laid down the story of his life
For in truth it would not be a noble account
Save the few precious years he’d had with his wife.

Secrets he’d known, yet none had he shared
Even now, so long since retired
He remembered the words his handler had used
‘In this world. silence is required.’
There were so many wrongs he couldn’t correct
So-called enemies had died by his hand
And laid out in print in his memoir
Would anyone at all understand!

Once again he closed his writing book
Not a word had he written once more
He looked through the window as the sun shone
Though in his heart it was too cold to thaw.

©Joe Wilson – The spy who was…2016

The amazing power of love…

It was a woeful time he’d been through
He survived only by the help of his friends
And now, though young still in his head he knew
His body was falling to bits as nature intends.

So he called his friends and he told them
How much that he loved them one and all
And how life was much better in his knowing
How they’d helped him in ways he could recall.

Then he called to his brother to tell him too
He loved him no matter the things from before
He called to his sister and told her
He loved her, he should have told them more.

Lastly he called to those in his heart
To his wife, his son, and that now empty space
He told them he loved as he always had
And as always he saw her beautiful face.

We should say, we should say, to those that we care for
How truly we love them and as often as we can
And for this there are no real requirements
You just stand up and say it like a man.

©Joe Wilson – The amazing power of love…2016