Shadows

In shadows at night I can still see your face
And by closing my eyes, I make out your voice
It hurts so much now that I’m on my own
But I loved you so much; I’ve really no choice.
Is this what the future will hold for me now
The loneliness that brings so much pain
I must hold the years that we had to my heart
And I’ll sleep just to see you again.
Daylight returns, and the sky turns to blue
So I watch you as you slowly wake
And the shadows depart to that dark, empty place
And I smile at my silly mistake.

 

©Joe Wilson – Shadows…2014

Only Waiting

Bury me where you find me; bury me nice and deep
Bury me, remember me, and sleep a peaceful sleep.
And dream of joy, not sorrow; dream of peace, not fear
And dream of your tomorrow, and I’ll not disappear.
And dream of us throughout your life; keep me in your heart
And though you’ll go through utter strife, we’ll never be apart.
And dream of all the love we had; dream of all the laughter
And dream, and dream, and don’t be sad; we’ll meet in the here-after.
And dream of happy lovers; dream of you and me
And slowly you’ll discover, you’ll smile again: you’ll see.
And dream of me when you’re alone, and you will see my face
And you’ll not be all on you’re own, but in my warm embrace.
Bury me where you find me, bury me nice and deep
Bury me, remember me, and I will go to sleep.
But I will wait for you my dear, through every lifelong storm
And when you come to join me here I’ll help to keep you warm.
Bury her where you find me, bury her nice and deep
Remember her, remember me, and we will go to sleep.

©JRW1992
From the Anthology – A Question of Balance
Published by Jeffrey Franz Owings Mills Maryland 21117
Library of Congress ISBN 1-56167-038-3 (1992)

Hallo! There’s Someone In My Head.

I’m just sitting here, inside this shell
The feeling’s returned that I know so well
I need to do such a natural thing
But I cannot move, nor even ring
Out to anyone who goes by
And they will not look me in the eye.
I wonder if they wonder, if I have a brain
Obviously I have!! Or I’d not feel the pain
Not the hurt from the bones that are crooked and bent
But the being ignored: as if my life meant …. NOTHING.
In time they will wheel me off to the place
That sharpest reminder to me of disgrace
Then they’ll clean me and dry me, and put me to bed
I could easily give up and wish myself dead
But I am important; if only to me
So I’ll sit here and watch, and hope things will be.
One day, perhaps, the ill will subside
And inside my head I’ll not have to hide
I’ll travel away from this place at long last
Ah, but what foolish dreams…the die has been cast.

© JRW1990
I wrote this poem in memory of my mother who suffered for five very long years after having multiple strokes. By the time she died the poor woman had had approximately seventeen.

We expected as much.

Well, I guess most of us expected a degree of pain when this new government finally slid it’s collective feet under the table. we all knew that both Cameron and Clegg had to compromise a considerable amount to come to any working agreement. Straight-away of course, there was the resignation of David Laws, actually a God-send for the Tories. Then Chris Huhne buggered up his real chances. It means of course that the Lib-Dems have lost a whole load of momentum and now the Tories find themselves properly in the driving seat; and driving they are. Driving changes through to health and education, justice and the arts, and of course defence, like never before, with the ultimate end being that all the major services will be operated by private companies. This serves at least two purposes. One, it lifts responsibility for failure off the shoulders of the government, two, it gives opportunity for massive cutting of service staff in the public sector, something the Tories barely believe in. It also provides a good hunting ground for the future board and earning posts for the later ousted, and they will be ousted, ministers who are performing this act of vandalism.

The God-botherers of Stornoway and Jeffrey John

Monday 2 August 11:33 and I’m reading an article in the Guardian by Severin Carrell, the Scotland Correspondent, about the guerilla golfers of this tiny place in the Western Isles where it is an act of defiance to play golf on a Sunday. I don’t play golf I should point out straight away. However, I will defend a man’s and indeed, a woman’s right to play the game whenever they choose. It seems that the Stornoway Trust which owns the golf club land and many hectares around it, and the Western Isles Council, all deeply sabbatarians, disagree, and don’t allow the club to open on Sundays, thus it is unmanned on that day of the week and people play anyway for free. There is a thought creeping in here that maybe they should ban golf seven days a week in Stornoway, thus allowing it to be played at no cost at all. Ferries and flights, privately owned, all run on Sundays, and the pubs and garages are open too and much used. SportScotland, hypocritically, support sabbatarian groups, and the Western Isles Council supports buses to church while not supporting buses generally on a Sunday, and of course, The Lord’s Day Observance Society fully support the stance against the golf club. Lots of football club pitches, sports centres, and other golf courses that are publicly funded stay closed on Sunday across Lewis and Harris. In the mainly Catholic South, such as Barra and Benbecula, and in the Uists, all sports facilities are open seven days a week. All attempts to get the Stornoway Golf Club open on a Sunday have so far failed.

The article which is about the possibility of Sunday golf being “the last bastion of Sunday observance in the Western Isles”, and there it finishes, but it set me thinking. These rules are made by a bunch of old, generally, crusty old-fashioned people whose mind-set goes back to an outdated Victorian way of thinking that also keeps women, and gay and lesbian people, from being happily ordained into the church as priests, and more recently from being properly promoted to posts that they are clearly the right person for. The case of Dr Jeffrey John, currently the Dean of St Albans is perhaps the one most likely to spring to mind. Firstly Dr John was nominated for the post of Bishop of Reading in the Oxford diocese. Following controversy, the Most Weak Reverend Dr Rowan Williams, Archbishop of Canterbury, asked him to step down, and again more recently, he is believed to have withdrawn his name as the successor to Tom Butler as the Bishop of Southwark.

This archaic attitude towards men of great stature such as Dr John, based solely on their sexuality, and against the unerringly ‘better at the job’ women, is the very reason that church congregations are never going to return to the sort of numbers of worshippers attending church when I was growing up…and that is the rub. Were these old, old men to loosen their stranglehold on the rulebook of community life in places like Stornoway, or in the wider communities in the towns and cities throughout the land, people would soon see that in a modern society the very people they make life difficult for are the people who would probably make up the backbone of a returning congregation. Generally, people don’t want not to believe in God, they want leaders who they can believe in and trust, leaders who recognise that men like Dr John don’t just come along that often and should be trusted and more greatly valued. Weak leaders should stand down. The irony of all this is that the golfers of Stornoway would probably be in church if the attitude towards them was not so iron-fisted. Sensible people would realise that.