…and as he looked in the mirror
all he now saw were dark obsidian pools that
his new friends Jim, Jack, and Elijah had given him.

Once she said, his eyes sparkled a bright blue.
But that was before in a different life, a life
filled with hope and laughter. He couldn’t
remember that time so well now.

Flat, black eyes and sallow skin stared back at him, and as he looked, he barely recognised himself. Is this what loneliness does? Was this the end result of having his heart torn to shreds? He looked around the rooms of his barely dusted house, un-vacuumed for too long and he was disgusted with himself. Nonetheless, he still just sat down and stared at the wall, completely
and so utterly lost. He had truly reached a dead end.

Steps would have to be taken — but not today.
‘Procrastination is the thief of time’, she had once
reminded him. How true. Still he didn’t move.

©JoeW

Sitting quietly at my desk, pen held loosely in the hand
I again recall that slightly heady smell of your lovely perfume
And long forgotten memories begin to filter through my mind
That fill me with their happiness and drive away the gloom.

Two score years and nine you sat beside me as my wife
And not a day ever passed that I had failed to love you
For you were the compass that guided me so well
Love conquered all — without doubt, that is true.

©JoeW – True love…

It never mattered what was really there
His young eyes were full of schemes
He’d see giant balloons in multi-stripes
It was the stuff of his boyhood dreams.
On an isle in the sea, a castle he saw
With turrets and towers and knights
Yet rockets flew high to faraway worlds
And sailing ships and magical sights.

They said he had his head in the clouds
He’d never amount to too much
But he went on to write many stories
Letting others sense that same touch.
He wrote such adventure stories
Full of colour and amazing good fun
With heroes and heroines that we now know
They were written for everyone.

And on days when your youngster looks over a wall
You may think you can see just like they
But not with their imagination
As we grow up that’s drifting away.
Encourage each child to imagine
Curiosity is their greatest friend
For when children start having such good fun
It begins such a wonderful trend.

They’ll make up stories of impossible lands
Where incredible monsters roam
But where heroes are forged from friendship
And everyone makes it back home.
Then one day they’ll climb up over that wall
To live their adventure as they see
And you as a parent will have to let go
To let them be whatever they’ll be.

©JoeW – His life of adventure…
A small tribute to Hans Christian Andersen

[Shortly before his death, Andersen had consulted a composer about the music for his funeral, saying: “Most of the people who will walk after me will be children, so make the beat keep time with little steps.”]

He gently laid down his knife and fork.

Why the thought had suddenly occurred
he had no real idea, nor did he ponder
Stopping only to tie his shoes
he headed for the door, and yonder.

The evening was as cold as it was dark.

He cared not a bit, he barely noticed
as he strode off purposefully to where?
To no one he spoke, nor wave his hand
for he himself knew not till he was there.

He walked for miles across fields and hills.

It was quite some time before he slowed
and when he stopped he was thinking.
For he’d forgotten why he’d left his home,
he just stood there weeping, sadly, blinking.

JoeW – Lost…2021(amended from2016)

Curiosity had always drawn him
To the edge of the wood
The edge of the farm
The edge of the cliff.

More than once as a child
He’d been found beyond his limits
In the middle of a forest once
Half way down a rock face too.
They called it then a wanderlust
As if it was some awful failing
Which wasn’t really so at all
He always knew his heading.

Today most folk call him a nomad
Much closer now to the truth
For he had never stopped in his travelling
Having journeyed through his entire life.
There was so little he found of no interest
It had always been like this
He would keep along on his journey
Till they finally placed him in the earth.

For if a man can take the time in life
To see what the good earth has to give
By giving in to his inner nomad
What magnificent bounty he’ll receive.

©Joe Wilson – The nomad…

And even now I feel her loving kiss
From times of childhood filled with this.
Yet days as those are so long gone
As now in aging I think the best
Of days of fun and play-filled zest
Such love felt by a mother’s son.
When Mother came and bid goodnight
And blessed us with a tender hug
That never was cast with a shrug
As final switch turned out the light.

©JoeW – A young boy…
(Inspired by ‘Childhood by Washington Allston 1799-1843)

Would that I could lift a heart
That’s fallen to the floor
That I could love and cherish it
For now and evermore.

Would that I could do that small thing
Before my frail heart breaks
Please let me do that caring thing
In love for both our sakes.

No words you need to utter here
Yet silent you’re torn apart
So I will bend and pick it up
And mend your broken heart.

©JoeW – It can be mended…

It still seems strange walking into the living room
And seeing that there is nobody there
It isn’t really a living room in this house anymore
Just a space through which I sometimes veer.
A log fire that I never now light for just myself
And a basket of logs sits waiting – just waiting
It’s an lifeless room just like the rest are
We often sat in there just – debating.

A kitchen we’d just had renewed last year
Yet no-one to cook for anymore
Barely a pan gets dirty these days
Unused I just wipe off dust haze.
There’s an almost empty fridge there too
The food keeps getting thrown out
I haven’t got used yet to buying less
My mind is just so full of doubt.

And a bed that now feels so empty
Where once she lay in my arms
A wardrobe of clothes I can’t yet remove
And jewellery and bracelets with charms.
Though fifty years is a long time to love
Not a second of it would I give up
And I would live every second again
For mine was an always filled cup.

©JoeW – Recollections…2025

In reaching this point I knew I could carry on, so here goes 🌹😎

If I see another man
Who seems as lonely as I
I’ll put my arms around him
As we both have a tiny cry
And then we’ll part
Our separate ways
As we’ll face the days new climbs
We all need a shoulder to lean on
When we go through desperate times.

©JoeW 2025

The old tree was cracked and gnarled
from years and years of rain and wind
and hailstones
The price it paid for being planted
right on the coast overlooking the North Sea
One couldn’t find a signal of any sort way up there
and it was definitely not a friendly place for mobile phones.
When we found that old gnarled tree
both our names we carved there,
her name above and mine below
carved in a heart we’d share.

But yet it was the most wonderful
and peaceful place that one could ever
hope to be.
We built a cottage by the sea,
our love-nest if you will
And we fished along the coast all day
and the memory warms me still.

But that was then and this is now,
a life alone in tears
as now my different life begins
we’ll see just where it steers.

One day perhaps I’ll visit the cottage where we lay
and soak up all the love we shared
before that awful day.
I’ll go and find the old gnarled tree
and find our names carved there,
her name above and mine below
carved in the heart we shared.

One day……………perhaps

©JoeW – One day…