Clacton, Nineteen Sixty Four
Sawdust Caesars, all-out war
Fifty four years since those days
Bones now creak in many ways.

Pierre Cardin and Levi jeans
The Twisted Wheel by any means
Rowntrees, Sunday morning low
Thumb back home, work to go.

Music all had soulful sound
Many now lie in the ground
Wouldn’t have missed a single day
Dancing every night away.

Otis concert, ten-bob note
Angry words back then I wrote
San Remo Strings, brilliant style
Still today, memories, smile.

©Joe Wilson – Youth…2018

A deep loneliness…


I’d caught that look of sadness
In the corner of your eye
How pained you must have felt
Yet determined not to cry
It’s over, not to be undone.

Moved on with your life these days
Far too painful looking back
The days roll into months
Your masquerade will sometimes crack
The peace you own, has been hard won.

Yet even still you hear the voice
That in your head caused untold bliss
But that was then so long ago
You’re left as one with nought but this
Alone one’s life, is far less fun.

©Joe Wilson – A deep loneliness…2018

Nowhere to hide…


Slowly she trudges along a scar-filled road
Water carrier on her back, a heavy load
So many are children who fetch water each day
Large numbers orphans, too traumatised to play.
There’s nary a one who’s not lost someone
A mother, a father, a brother now gone.
And still the war rages, eight long years now
A break out to the West to survival somehow
But yet we reject them, born out of our fears
So many we turn back to a life of more tears.

Solutions, where are they, leaders stay quiet
They say there’s no answer, the world doesn’t buy it
Stop selling them weapons and bombing for them
At least let the children have peace for a stem.
Corruption, at the heart of all this warfare
The inconvenient displaced face a life of despair
They have nowhere to go, nowhere to hide
Now refugees fleeing, swept along with the tide.

An unseen truth is plain in all this
In the West we don’t notice and ignorance is bliss
We too have our problems and turn a blind eye
The water carrier children wait for bombs from the sky.

©Joe Wilson – Nowhere to hide…2018

It is truly better…


Will all gone
Defeated, alone
He trudged along life’s path
With an air of despondency.

Little ever lifted his spirits.

And so it was when he met
Or rather crashed into
She who would change his life

Not for a moment
Could he have imagined
The effect she would have.
Not for a moment
Could he have imagined
That he would have such fortune.

She was everything
And his heart filled
Sometimes so full
He thought that it would burst.

He was a changed man
Nothing could or would
Ever be the same again.
How could it – he’d found love.

She was so kind and loving
Strong when he felt fragile
Gentle when he was sad
Always thinking just of him
She picked him up when times were bad.

Truly she was his miracle cure
He was a better man for her
And despondency left his life for good
She almost made him purr.

And then she died
He was lonely
Unhappiness returned
But he remembers now
All those happy times
And despondency is spurned.

It is truly better to have loved…

©Joe Wilson – It is truly better…2018

The mirror image…


How drunk he sounds
As his raucous bellow
Echoes across the courtyard.
Never one to hold his tongue
He shouts at the wind
That in his drunken stupor
Has once again
Blown off his foolish hat.

Another time, long ago
He was a different man
Holding all things dear and close
Yet fate, that most fickle lady
Saw fit to take that from him
That was most precious
And now he does battle
He does battle with the very elements
For there is nothing left – but sorrow.

And when he looks in a mirror
He sees the horror
Of that which he has become
And he sees – me.

©Joe Wilson – The mirror image…2018

Community life…




How loud the bells from our church steeple
Summon by technology the faithful people
For natural bells have long stayed silent
Cracked by years of strikes quite violent.

And locals gather on the village green
To walk their dogs, a joyful scene
Some buds already poking out
Suggest that Winter’s lost her clout.

Yet one’s not fooled by scenes less hoary
Winter still may hold more fury
Cold will strike the foolish unwrapped
And wind can make one’s face feel slapped.

These strange sweet days play year on year
In village life that’s calm and dear
So very lucky we therefore feel
To some perhaps it seems unreal.

Yet not too smug should one thus feel
At scenes as these that so appeal
For other places bear much strife
And so one feels blessed with this life.

©Joe Wilson – Community life…2018

That look…


He looked at him
With those dark doleful eyes
A look of patience across his face
Or was that imagined!
No matter which way he looked
Those eyes seemed to follow him
His need held no disguise.

Yet was so tired
He ached all over from sweeping
The old rheumatics playing up.
But he knew he’d give in
That he would be happy to
That he too needed such upkeeping.

So, getting the lead, he whistled
‘All right boy, let’s go for that walk.’

©Joe Wilson – That look…2018