His last breath…

 

A breath is being taken that’s so shallow
No sound the breathing now makes
The fear of death lurking in the shadows
Immerses the souls in fearful quakes.
For the breathing of man is a precious gift
Yet one taken as a right by this sinner
But the spectre in the shadows is yet waiting
As the rasping sound of death grows ever thinner.
 

A tear now slowly falls from the dying man’s eye
It lands with a mighty clap upon his pillow
For the man is in such pain while he is living
Yet he knows there’s more to come at where he’ll  go.
For not a word of simple kindness did he ever utter
A cruelty to fellow-men was all he’d show
And he never gave but a thought to how we got here
But down there, it’s safe to say, he’ll surely know.
 

©Joe Wilson – His last breath…2015

It isn’t ours…

Has man ever really stopped and looked
at all the beauty that Nature has cooked
arrayed throughout the world to see
by stumbling humans like you and me.

Deserts filled with shifting sand
moved by winds and Nature’s hand
creating dunes of epic scale
compared to this we are so frail.

Rill and brook, stream and creek
all a river’s end they seek
as they head for oceans wide
moving always with the tide.

Filled with fish of every size
sometimes caught for dinner’s prize
and on their trek it’s life or death
they struggle on for every breath.

Through the forests these rivers flow
passing trees whose names we know
they’re the lifeblood of our world
new breath with every leaf unfurled.

Too often though we cut them down
turning green land into brown
and yet somehow there are still flowers
grown by Nature’s greater powers.

They brighten days in glorious hues
so many colours, too many to choose
in meadows watered by rivers’ flow
past those trees whose names we know.

And on to seas with sharks and whales
the mighty Blues with their giant tails
whose flukes are wider than football fields
what majestic beauty the ocean yields.

To care for our planet we would do well
it’s a living thing not just a shell
it isn’t ours to destroy and maim
it’s future health should be our aim.

©Joe Wilson – It isn’t ours…2015

The unseen journey…

Messages carried along
meandering lanes
without conscious input
by electronic impulses are
speeding across the sinews,
through the blood avenues
and down the back alleys
to our feet, on the footpath
of life
telling us
that pressing on
is the only

way

forward.

Meanwhile telegrams
travel to the very edges
of our arterial network
sending instructions
to our shoulders
and on
to our arms and hands
to move in beautiful unison
with our feet
thus
allowing us
to set out
using
our form of

propulsion.

And so we amble on
blissfully unaware
of the arduous tasks
our body will carry out
every second
of every day

for

all

of

our lives.

©Joe Wilson – The unseen journey…2015

All His children…

 

He leaves the village and takes his bow

and soon in silence his prey he’ll know

he’ll kill a boar and his family is fed

life in the margins is that or be dead.

He’ll cut the beast down the centre line

give half to his neighbour, he is that kind

this is their way, these people are fair

with their neighbours and friends they always share.

But let us not forget the soul of the boar

He reached into its heart and his then did soar

the beast served its purpose, fed people, went rotten

its soul though was pure, and by Him, not forgotten

©Joe Wilson – All His children… 2014

The seeds of war…

Beneath the veil of nations’ fears
Underneath their eyelids’ tears
Are secrets kept of vile misdeeds
Of many wars these are the seeds.

Adventurers sailed around the world
Their nation’s flags they then unfurled
Then raped the land of all they saw
And stole the wealth found in the core.

Independence now those countries claim
To stand alone, be proud their aim
But our ancestors fiscal curse
We robbed, pillaged and bared their purse.

So now they strike out on their own
The country’s wealth pared to the bone
They end up fighting among themselves
Supplied with weapons from dealers shelves.

This circle will go around and around
Till every human is in the ground
And you my friend when you read this tome
Will wish that you had not left home.

 

©Joe Wilson – The seeds of war…2014

The long sad look…

He cast a long sad look along the horizon
And gazed down on the planet’s Armageddon
For man was battling on to it’s destruction
Destroying all that fell in their path.

Placing man on the Earth had been troublesome
But the intellect of man had given Him hope
They could work out the problems that beset them
Yet all the killing and shooting and bombing had to stop.

He’d placed races of differing hue and different creed
Putting them in all manner of places far and wide
But man’s warlike nature seemed reason enough
For them to find their excuses for genocide.

What was it with the homo-sapien class of mammal
That had them at each other’s oft exposed throats
It was not the result of something that He had created
But a flaw that was in the essence of man.

©Joe Wilson – The long sad look…2014