The choice…

On 14 Mar 201514 Mar 2015 By jovisgoesIn Family, Fear, Life, Loss, Love, Poetry, The end-game, The World, Thoughts, Time, War, wisdom4 Comments

Everywhere that he ever went
He always travelled in style
With supple leather and cocktail bar
He sat in the rear for mile upon mile.

He traded this, he traded that
Till finally he didn’t care
It was weapons he sold, they were deadly
To him in war, all things were fair.

And then one day he got the chance
To choose twixt loss or gain
Some men kidnapped his family
He had never felt such pain.

The ransom when it came was surprising
There was just one simple demand
Stop all of the sales of your weapons
Including those already planned.

For him the choice was so easy
He turned from the cocktail haze
Now he writes of love and of romance
With his family near, life finally pays.

©Joe Wilson – The choice…2015

The letters…

On 8 Mar 20159 Mar 2015 By jovisgoesIn Armageddon, Death, Family, Fear, guilt, heroes, Life, Pacifism, Passion, Poetry, Point of View, political, Regret, The end-game, The World, Thoughts, Time, WarLeave a comment

Heavy the heart
Painful the burden
The messenger’s part
In passing the word on.

Deep are the creases
That now line his brow
The pain never ceases
It’s personal somehow.

His was the book
Which counted the dead
But each killing took
His heart’s peace instead.

They were his men
He loved them like sons
They’ll not sing again
Silenced by guns.

The letters he wrote
To tell of each death
Families he smote
By words of last breath.

The killing decided
There’s no final amount
Messenger lies dead
One more for the count.

I bet…

On 4 Mar 20154 Mar 2015 By jovisgoesIn Childhood, Family, Fun, Life, Love, old age, Passion, Personal, Poetry, Sport, The end-game, Thoughts, Time, Trains, wisdom, YouthLeave a comment

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.