A gentle breeze blows over the golden acres
Flowers glitter in the sun as birds soar ever upwards
Higher they fly, majestic souls
Summer captured in a moment
Nature in all it’s glory.
©JRW2014
Category: Poetry
thoughts
a man needs a study
and a study I have
where I hide from the world
with my thoughts.
I write them all down
and think them all through
they go down through my fingers
that’s how my work grew.
some are quite big thoughts
yet more still are small
some of them don’t bear
much thinking at all.
but they all get assembled
in some sort of fashion
and get moved into poems
in my kind of passion.
©Joe Wilson – thoughts 2014
Subarachnoidism
Pain in the head, again feeling gripped
Fears of another burst coming one day
Returning memories of leaks being clipped
Paralyses my mind in a terrifying way.
Shouldn’t have happened, why the hell was it me?
But then, why not? Could be anyone see!
And I recovered fully anyway
To live to fight another day.
©JRW2014
First Snow
There’s a leaf on a branch on a tree in my garden
It’s a solitary leaf, as the rest have all gone
It must have hung on and hung on like Tarzan
For as I say it’s now just a one.
The strong wind out there just never seems to tire
It blows me so cold and with such force
So I’ll sit and I’ll write by my lovely log fire
Till the wind finally changes it’s course.
Winter’s coming and with it we’ll be getting some snow
Though we don’t get it as bad as some other folks do
But our love for it changes as the older we grow
And we feel the cold that much more too.
©JRW2014
The Table, and my Friend
I made a friend in May, it was a long long time ago
In nineteen ninety four, that’s twenty years or so
By the door to a hospital we chatted and generally chewed the fat
Him there after a heart attack, me a by-pass, and that was that.
A table is what we spoke of and the fact that I needed one
He said, ” I’ll make one for you, but a condition, there’s just one
I’ll make you your new table and you must help me where you can.”
I wasn’t sure what I’d walked into, but I agreed to my new friend’s plan.
So together we laboured at it, him working at his trade
Before long we’d made a table, even rails with carvings made
I’m not much of a carpenter, to think I am is daft
But it was a genuine pleasure, seeing my friend alive at his craft.
Time has passed on so very much, a long time since that May
My wife and I sit by that table every single day
It’s withstood things you’d not believe and yet it is still game
And the friendship that was born that day, well that has done the same.
©JRW2014
Schools Out
Up we go, up the stairs
To sleep or dream or play with bears
Under cover with ‘secret’ lamps
Beds turn into night time camps
Where special messages are passed about
“Only in whispers, you mustn’t shout.”
’cause we’re asleep our parents think
Our tired red eyes are on the brink…
Then “wake up children, time to go,
one more day at school you know.”
Off we race to get to class
To take some tests we hope to pass
Then running home at end of day
Homework, tea, and then we play
amazing games in the weekends
having fun with all our friends.
©JRW2014
Mrs Pruitt
The old hands don’t dust any more for Nell Pruitt
Since arthritis set in they just cannot do it
She shuffles through the flat with the aid of a stick
She was a proud working woman and it makes her feel sick.
To ask for the help that they don’t want to give
She’s certain that they’d prefer her not to live.
Nell had worked hard through the Second World War
One of the girls making bullets and more
Lots of her friends had gone off to the fight
Of some of them that was Nell’s last ever sight.
But she survived thankful and got married to Dan
Outliving their children was not part of the plan.
Dan passed away when he was just sixty two
Nell cried for a long time not able to move
Eventually though she worked her way through it
She was made of stern stuff old Mrs Nell Pruitt
And she did love the garden where she spent most of her time
Growing herbs for her friends, mainly rosemary and thyme.
Now the years have moved on and Nell’s hands are much worse
She looks on them just as another life’s curse
She’s seen the young doctor who’s treated her well
Not holding out hope from his face she could tell
So she shuffles about trying hard not to think
As the pain’s getting worse and Nell’s starting to sink.
©JRW2014
Death by Violence
Some people just don’t bloody care
They see injustice with ghoulish stare
But being beaten about the head
Lying bloodied and left for dead
Can leave you a cynic of humankind
Of passers-by whose gaze is blind.
Am I not human like you lot
As I lie here midst blood and snot
Do you not care a damn for me
This isn’t how it used to be.
But no help comes, I’m left instead
I’ve drawn last breath – and now I’m dead.
©Joe Wilson – Death by Violence…2014
A Trip to the Seaside
The old and now empty railway track
Where iron horses will never come back
Carried trains along it on two four four
Driving along to the Welsh sea shore.
Children would travel with bucket and spade
Later to wonder at castles they’d made
While Mum and Dad with bags by three
Wondered if they’d brought enough for tea.
From Stafford station they pulled away
Stopping at Newport along the way
Then Shrewsbury town and Machynlleth too
Stopping at Barmouth just after two.
Passengers piled out in their droves
Most of them looking for shallow coves
Mums carrying babies who’d often screech
Heading for quiet spots left on the beach.
To Mum and Dad it was a well earned rest
From their working days and household stress
And the joy of seeing children have such fun
It meant the holidays had begun.
Some days later, maybe three or four
Passengers waited by carriage doors
And back to their homes they all would go
With tales to tell to folks they know.
And as they journeyed East again
Saying goodbyes to holiday friends
They felt refreshed and enjoyed the ride
As the train sped away from the wild Welsh tide.
©JRW2014
The Nightmare…
When the world comes to an end
for me at least – I will be alone.
I have known my love since
I was a callow sapling
she taught me everything I know about
——-love.
I’ve never known anyone like her
and now – I would be alone…forever.
I couldn’t cope
I would mope about
long, long quiet moments
then I would shout
O how I would shout.
It would be hell on earth
– unbearable.
It is the nightmare
that stops me sleeping…
©Joe Wilson – The nightmare…2014
Jovis on a Journey... 