The demon’s touch…

Would that I could spare you pain
You feel the demon’s touch again
I’ll wrap you in my loving heart
Where demons can’t wrench us apart.
And as you lie in sleep’s repose
Protect you, I, against all those
Who bring such wicked dreams to you
I’ll take my sword and them pursue.

With honour pure and blade so true
I’ll drive those demons out from you
And peace and such serenity
Will be returned to you and me.

Would that life could ever be
As straightforward as poetry.

©Joe Wilson – The demon’s touch…2015

Words of love and faith…

So tired I drift in long deep sleep
In thoughts of you that keep me warm
Inside a place of peaceful dreams
I find you in ethereal form.

And holding hands in sweet repose
Retelling words of love and faith
While wrapped in dream-like timeless mist
My arms enfold to keep you safe.

As wakefulness returns at dawn
No longer are you there to see
But opened eyes can now reveal
Your earthly form lies next to me.

Retelling words of love and faith
And wrapped in ageless passion we
With open eyes and open hearts
Who else but you could be with me.

©Joe Wilson – Words of love and faith…2015

Marching forwards in love and in life…(Acrostic)

Marching forwards in love and in life
As snowdrop and crocus cover Spring earth
Raw though the wind, as Winter still lingers
Chapping the faces exposed to its wrath.
Hope springs eternal as I sit by the hearth
Indoors the warmth of a nice open fire
Nicely chopped logs all stacked by a scuttle
Glorious flames up the chimney rise higher.

Flames soporific and soon I am sleeping
Out like a light from the heat of the fire
Running in dreams and thinking of roses
Wrapped in a beautiful paper display.
All for the lady who loves me forever
Roses the flowers from my heart every day
Dreams full of happy, and our lovely children
Slight sadness now as they make their own way.

It’s many years now and our love we have found
No more needs the blankets we laid on the ground.

Living a life with one who inspires you
Overly blessed like the Spring that now hails
Verdant the grass round the bench in the garden
Each night during Summers we tell lover’s tales.

And as we enter our twilight of living
Not for a second our passion shall wane
Drawn to each other, a one made from twain.

Isn’t it wondrous when love makes hearts bind
Never a doubt in your passion-filled mind.

Letters we’ve written of love for each other
Ink that was written, but not by a sage
Finally we slip into hot-chocolate evenings
Enjoying the warmth as we turn the next page.

©Joe Wilson – Marching forwards in love and in life…2015 (Acrostic)

Migraine tunnels…

Silence echoes so loud in my tunnel
Breakneck the speed that I flew down the funnel
In bright psychodelia my eyes cry in pain
Migrainous headache hits my brain cells again.

 
Analgesic no use in this situation
Send me to sleep, causing much aggravation
The pain still remains as always it does
The silence so noisy, like a gigantic buzz.

 
So to my bed and to lie down again
Under the duvet, my warm comfy friend
Back to the sleep and my tunnel of pain
The tunnel revealing this time, a loud train.

 
Train thunders over my temples this time
I declare migraine headaches – violent crime!

 
©Joe Wilson – Migraine tunnels…2015

Ticks…

The clock ticks on
Life moves forward a notch
And we as fools survive
In self-absorbing  hotchpotch.

 

The clock ticks on
And failings and success compete
For space within our cluttered lives
The world no longer, is at our feet.
 

The clock ticks on
And wrinkles start to show
Our footing slips on the ladder of life
And aging pains begin to grow.
 

The clock ticks on
Our hearts begin to race and flutter
Our memories lose a thread or two
And we start to mumble and mutter.
 

The clock ticks on
And she or he forgets our name
We know the truth of dementia well
Our parents went through this the same.
 

The clock ticks on
And one of us will disappear
The other left to fend for themselves
In a life now filled with fear.
 

The clock ticks on
And on
And on
And on………

 

©Joe Wilson – Ticks…2015

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…

Bragging rights, 1950’s style…

Margareta Berger-Hamerschlag from the cover of her still relevant 'Journey into a Fog'. 1956
Margareta Berger-Hamerschlag
from the cover of her still relevant
‘Journey into a Fog’. 1956

 

He took his lass to the local flicks
By heck he was so very eager
But when his hand slipped down her back
She said, “I smell Swarfega.”

 

Not so easily discouraged
He went and scrubbed his hands
But when he got back to try again
She’d gone, and thwarted his plans.

 

They didn’t have mobiles in those days
Further contact there couldn’t have been
So he went to the pub and stood with his mates
And bragged about the heaven he’d seen.

 

The tales those young men told…

 

 

©Joe Wilson – Bragging rights, 1950’s style…2014

(For those who may not know, Swarfega was invented in 1947
by Audley Bowdler Williamson, and is a hand-cleaning product
originally invented to prolong the life of silk stockings.
It found far more use in garages than it ever did in lady’s boudoirs)