Love

What danger lurks in open hearts
And how we fall into its trap
But joy is something we all want
It’s part of a lifetime map.
And those of us lucky in one way
Find a match and a lover for life
And those not so lucky in life’s great test
Miss the wonder, but also the strife.
It’s not for all of course, we differ
But the heart guides us all on our way
Some people stop many times to find love
Finding only that it left yesterday.
Perhaps it’s really about surviving
In this complex world where we dwell
There is much tech interference
But no actual people to tell.
One day we may all live in city blocks
Where no one will ever see a soul
And conversing will all be over the net
And under Big Brother’s control.
But the heart finds a way
It’s its nature
And love will survive as always
Of that you can be sure.

©JoeW – Love…2021

Still hopeful…

Woke up to a beautiful day today

Sun nice and hot, but not too hot

And I felt thankful, just this once

Thankful for all the good things

…………that I’ve still got.

I’d woken to that gentle strain

That is the angelic voice of Jennifer Warnes

Singing Rock You Gently

It’s a kind of magic to wake to

………….and of a life that still adorns.

Perhaps the early signs are there

She’d want me to move on

Crumbling under the weight

Is still a frequent occurrence

But I will still survive

………….and I will love the world.

For love is the only weapon

That is necessary in life

Surely, everybody wants

To be loved and to love in return

………….it overcomes all strife.

©JoeW – Still hopeful…2021

Trees, we should love them more…

They take their chain-saw armies

And cut down all the trees

To make a chair, a house and cash!

They need the wood for these.

But later, when they couldn’t breathe

And it was far too late to wonder

Oxygen comes from wondrous trees

They’re not just there to plunder.

The world survives by balance

We ignore that every day

And soon there may be no trees left

There’ll be a price to pay.

©JoeW – Trees, we should love them more…2021

…and yet when finally I drew back the curtain, life was still there ticking away as always. For in truth, ‘time really does wait for no one’. My self-all-absorbing grief, is only a very small pothole along the much larger global road of life. I don’t care, it is my pothole.

I touch her things, my fingers gently passing over her wedding ring and her watch, both of which she had worn every day since we had married some forty eight years earlier. It has been four months since she was stolen away from me, she was taken away in an ambulance and I never saw her again. Even worse I never got to speak to her again. That is what I miss most of all, I will never hear her voice again. It could be, ‘can you pass me the butter knife please?’ or ‘have you read this article in the paper?’ or ‘I love you.’ I will never hear her say anything again. That breaks my heart.

Potholes get repaired but I am like the local council and their repair schedule, I will take forever.

Blank walls…

I miss you so very much my skin aches for your touch

The gentle contact of lovers and experience mixed

But the year of heartache severed the whole

And the love in my heart cannot now be fixed.

I lost my girl so cruelly to the ills of life

The best half of two was you, my wife

Now I sit here and stare at blank painted walls

Where I’ll sit for the rest of my life.

How sad life can be, how stark and cold

How riddled with grief can we cope

How lonely the life that gets left behind

Close your curtains, abandon all hope.

©JRW – Blank walls…2021

Wasted…

It was becoming a bad habit

Constantly drinking himself to oblivion.

Four Roses was fine Kentucky Straight bourbon

But it couldn’t go on, forever drunk

Vomiting like a slob, covering himself in puke

Waking in the early hours covered in snot and sweat.

He had to get to grips before the grips got him

Time to put the bottle away before he couldn’t

Life was once so straightforward

And then it wasn’t.

©Joe Wilson – Wasted…2021

…and having moved on, where to go

His active brain just did not know

And so, he tried to think a while

An hour passed and then a smile.

He`d take up writing, yes, he would

Able, or not, deciding he could

And so, he took his brain and quill

Then sat for hours, thinking still.

The page was bare, and hunger called

At lack of progress, he was appalled

But after lunch he did decree

The page would fill, just wait and see.

The lunch was long, the wine did flow

Refusing top-ups, he got slow

And so, he slept all afternoon

Finally woken but far too soon.

His head was sore, his own fault, true

But nausea called, twas to the loo

Where all his sorrows left his gut

More care in what goes in he`ll put.

No words he`d writ, no words at all

This writing lark was not a ball

He couldn`t put the thoughts together

Drunkenness made it heavy weather!

So, he would try another day

To put on paper things to say

And nauseous still, he went to bed

To rest his unproductive head.

©JRW2021…Writing when drunk.

A love so true…

And though she who I so loved is now glorious free

I still feel the lightness of her love surrounding me

For as I have reduced by so much painful sorrow

Yet she warms my heart to help me find tomorrow.

And realise I how great a gift that I was granted

A love so true could never be supplanted.

©JRW2021…A love so true.

Untitled…

The hardest part is the loneliness

Where once the room seemed so full

Then suddenly, you left the room

And all that’s left seems just dull.

Alone with all my memories

Of a lifetime spent with you

We knew the time would come one day

And so it did — but far too soon.

I can barely think a single thought

Without you play some part

And though you are now ash and dust

You’re always in my heart.

I write these words down only to ease the ache in my chest

The words that can’t do justice to the half of us that was best.

©JRW2021

A new kind of Autumn

Darkness came

Autumn descended

Brightness left

Summer ended.

The virus lingered

People were dying

Autumn this year

Has many crying.

The third act in the year

Such bright red hue

This year – Corona

And the two metre queue.

With no end in sight

People are frustrated

Millions in lockdown

Truly deflated.

©Joe Wilson – A new kind of Autumn…2020