Laughter lines…

I can trace the little laughter lines
That have formed around her eyes
I remember when they first showed signs
And I loved them so, to my surprise.
We’ve laughed together over many years
And we’ve cried together too
She always drives away my fears
For her that’s what I do.

Over time some pain assumed
Some scars upon our lives
Frantic waits in quiet rooms
Prayers for skills from surgeon’s knives.
Through this I’ve loved and in return
Been loved far more than I could earn.

©Joe Wilson – Laughter lines…2015


He looked in the mirror at the map of his life
Covered in scars from the surgeons’ knife
A line down the centre from a life-time ago
Faded, but hideous, from a time of his woe.
The scar on his leg was from ankle to knee
Not something he’d ever expected to see
There’s cuts on his wrists and backs of his hands
Where the cannulae went in attached to drip stands
But all that remains are the bits of scar tissue
Nothing at all, not really an issue.

We all have these scars, they mark who we are
Some can’t be seen, there’s more hidden by far
But they serve to remind us that we aren’t alone
We all need help sometimes, we’re not on our own.

There’s another impressive scar on his head
But if it wasn’t there, he’d surely be dead
The same with the others, they’re ugly old things
But they mark off the years, in the way of tree rings.

©Joe Wilson – Scars…2015

Holding hands…

Moulded together in love and pain
They were always by each other’s side
That’s how for life they chose to remain
Each to the other was their pride.

Heartaches came and went yet still
They were steadfast in their love
Held together by their simple will
They fitted like a hand in a glove.

They aged and their bodies grew fragile
Yet that love still carried them along
As a thing that was always so, tactile
It sustained, it was so very strong.

And then one day they were there no more
But their love was now so cast in stone
That devotion to each other went right to the core
As holding hands they passed into the unknown.

©Joe Wilson – Holding hands…2015

All that is me…

In pen I plough my lonesome furrow
Synapses alive and the brain set alight
Willing an audience to interpret correctly
‘The meaning’, tis always The Poet’s hard plight.

Often the words that are written on paper
Take on a new life with the nuance of speech
If only the reader could hear it as I do
But then there’d be little left for me to teach.

Oh for a lovely warm Spring morning I say
What is invoked in the spirit that’s you
I hear the converse of snowdrop and crocus
And try then to pass on the messages too.

Some are times when the words just won’t form
I can’t find the flow to fit with my thoughts
Still though the writing finds ways to the paper
Landing as ink in shapes of all sorts.

Thus I continue to put my pen to paper
Scribbling new odes for the reader to see
And all the words that I lay there before you
Are just a reflection of all that is me.

©Joe Wilson – All that is me…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)

I bet…

I bet that as a child I climbed up many trees
Sometimes in tears running home with cut knees
I’d have played with Dinky toys and Hornby trains
And jumped into puddles after pouring rains.

I bet that as a youth I was petulant and daft
And sailed down a river on a home-made raft
I’d have ridden on my bike for miles and miles
Watching all the steam trains at railway styles.

And on a rugby pitch I’d have felt right in place
Charging down the wing or lying on my face
To clubs I’d have gone for the rhythm and the blues
We’d dance through the night like we’d nothing to lose.

I bet I met a lady who would love me forever
Who’d nurture our children and make us seem clever
She’d always keep me warm on the coldest nights
And be by my side when I get these frights.

I bet these things I’ve written may have all taken place
But the end-game approaches at an ever-quicker pace
I see it is the sort of life someone like me would need
But the memories have faded like an old dried up seed.


©Joe Wilson – I bet…2015

For all eternity…

This reckless place that is my mind
That shows me much, though oft I’m blind
Has nonetheless led me to you
A glorious, amazing thing to do.
And that alone brings other pain
That I might not see you again
For as we age our body’s tire
I say ‘who cares’, I call me liar.
But side by side we love and chat
Laughing, remembering this and that
And in your tender arms in bliss
O Lord please let us go like this.

For all eternity we will stay
As lovers, as we are today.

©Joe Wilson – For all eternity…2015