Where once there were docks…

The docks are so barren now, where once there was such fare
there’s no more shipbuilding, the work’s just not there
and yet when I think, when I dream, I can hear
all the fine sailing vessels that have long since passed here.

The docks were so mighty, all the work, all the men
it’s sad now to think, we’ll not see them again
and yet, if you think of the sails and the ropes
we’ll carry on dreaming, we won’t lose our hopes.

The docks stand so quiet, no stevedores can be seen
no lightermen move barges through the channels in between
and yet if you dream, you can still hear the sails
it’s a heart-lifting sound, the excitement never fails.

©Joe Wilson – Where once there were docks…

The Jules Rimet


So now the thing is over
all the pundits have gone back home
and the Rimet Trophy has been put away
to be played for again another day
some managers will now lose their teams
for not fulfilling a nation’s dreams.

But it is football, just a game
men paid so much, disgraceful shame
while others struggle to put food on the table
players cavorted like Betty Grable
but we watched it still – we cannot stop
I wonder when the penny will drop.

I remember pictures in black and white
when games were played in failing light
where players had jobs to earn their pay
and played the game on Saturday
where then the ref’s decision was law
and players didn’t roll round on the floor.

Those days are gone and that’s for sure
the balls were heavy and kit was poor
but player’s hearts were in the game
and not the glory of fleeting fame
when celebrity wasn’t theme of the day
for men oft found to have ‘feet of clay’.

©Joe Wilson – The Jules Rimet 2014

I can still remember Franz Beckenbauer playing on after breaking his arm, simply by wearing a  black sling to support it…a sight you wouldn’t see today.

The Arrow


Pulled back to the fullest stretch
The string now as hard as steel
The arrow ready astride the bow
And your senses stop as you feel.

Muscles tighten at tension break
A little sweat leaves the pores
Then just at the moment the brain says yes
You release – and the target is yours.

Flying through the air as straight as a die
Where gravity takes a pull on it too
But it lands in the gold as you knew that it would
For your aim and the arrow were true.

©Joe Wilson – The Arrow 2014

The European Elections


I’m minded today we have a choice
to make our mark and raise our voice
but there are those, it’s very funny
who’d tell you how they’d spend your money.

All over Europe pundits gather
getting themselves in quite a lather
giving opinions on issues political
trying to make them sound so critical.

Skeletons found in many a cupboard
the found out grimace, some have blubbered
and later when all votes are counted
disappointment follows campaigns mounted.

In Germany too they’ll do their thing
as seats stay put or make a swing
France and Italy, Ireland too
votes for Europe are quite a to-do.

Votes are counted on Sunday of course
and Dimbleby brothers roll out in force
the great Swingometer comes into play
as seats are won across the UK.

After all the dust has settled
new MEPs all keen and mettled
all take their seats with po-faced pride
personal pleasure they try to hide.

And so to business for some it’s new
there are many and various things to do
like getting claims in for their expenses
the sitting places – the search for fences.

Alliances to make are the next big thing
who’ll vote with you on anything
but represent those who for you voted
or you’ll be out next time, I hope that’s noted.


©Joe Wilson – The European Elections 2014

The Seed


In the boiler-room of life powerful energy is forcing new growth
As a very small shoot pushes its way out of a small seed’s husk
And as if by some magical force it is drawn upwards towards the light
Picking its way through the soil and between the stones that lie
Betwixt its chance of seeing the sun or falling by the way.

Slowly and surely it climbs up to the as yet unknown surface
Struggling in its weakness yet fighting in its single aim
To break through and reach out for the warmth of the sun,
Its fleshy stem hardening as it grows ever taller in its reach
To the sky and its second-year show of bright flowers.

The days march on and soon it develops large broad leaves
Which gather the rains that feed it life right to its roots
From which its energy comes with a force as great as any
In the universe…it is life, it is beauty, it is magical
Till finally it pushes the beginnings of its flowers out.

For all the world to see the majesty that is the purpose
Of its existence in this meadow of life and death, for now
The creatures come to feast on its sweet nectar and they
Will carry its pollen far and wide ensuring that new life will
Always be assured and that the circle of life is complete.


©Joe Wilson – The Seed 2014