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

A personal viewpoint…

With hope
And good cheer
I look out
At a future
That some already
Call dystopian…
It isn’t!
Yet care is needed.
Political swipes
I’m sure I’ll make
The government
Deserves it
For goodness sake
And tears I’ll shed
When I see the poor
For wealth ain’t divided
To equal the score.
My bit will be done
I’ll pay my way
And in return
I’ll have my say.

Yet life can offer
Big surprises
Which sometimes come
In odd disguises
So I am not
Bereft of hope
Life is hard
But most will cope.
But hearts and minds
Still need to change
A simple thing
Not really strange.
A world without
Such bigotry
A human race
In dignity.
We should bear
Such things in mind
This better world
Would then be

©Joe Wilson – A personal viewpoint…2018

tusque sit, alieno tempore…

He sat quietly in the corner
No longer wishing to be disturbed
Reflecting on how things had recently gone
And frankly, he was quite perturbed.

It had shown great promise in early heady days
Ebullience had filled him with joy
But as events had slowly unwrapped themselves
He felt like some battered envoy.

Explosions and killing, poverty and hunger
Were the lot of so many across nations
And soldiers again fighting for political whores
To spend their last years in sad recuperation.

Yet the miracle of birth still took place throughout
A joy to behold worldwide
He hoped they’d grow up into healthy young souls
Who’d try to stop this growing dark tide.

So it came to an end as always it did
The bells would strike twice after ten
Then he’d rise and put on his greatcoat
Through the door and not seen again.

As he leaves a bright young thing enters
Full of hope as once he’d been too
The world though is in a difficult state
So this year, she has much to do!

©Joe Wilson – tusque sit, alieno tempore…2018



I gaze at your picture
And yet once more
My heart breaks.
Such pains
You must have endured
Yet always serene
Before us all
How frightened
You must have felt
And yet
How outwardly calm.
A beacon for us
Lesser mortals.

He struggles I know
Yet he is steadfast
And steers the now lighter ship
With a delicacy
Which may even surprise him.
He is doing well.
They are doing well.
But how you are missed…

©Joe Wilson – Untitled…2017

So frightened…


Hiding in the corner

‘Please, not again’
‘Please, not again’
‘Please, not again’

He found her
His daughter
He was sorry.

He was always SORRY
He was always SORRY

She blew his brains out
Blasted him to HELL

Whatever followed
Had to be better.

It had to be.

It just did.

©Joe Wilson – So frightened…2017

Reflections in a country church…




And in that quiet time at dusk
When light grows dim
And eyes begin to strain
I see the shadows of fallen souls
Who bravely fought for King
Yet died alone in pain.

And in that quiet country church
Reflections in long windows
Inscribed the names of lost young men
The words of Owen and Sassoon flow
Through this old aging head
For they too fell, back then.

And when I look into the glass
Myself I only see
A question forms within my mind
That has always troubled me
Would I have gone and fought as they
To leave this world behind.

©Joe Wilson – Reflections in a country church…2017

The countryside for me…


Set sail for the shore
Homeward bound
Firmly placed feet
Once more on dry ground.
In boats large or small
We sail on the sea
It’s powerful beauty
Just overwhelms me.

I take to the lanes
I drink from the well
There’s nothing compares
To the hills and the fell.
And such beauty viewed
In company with friends
No technical gadgets
So bucking the trends.

The magic of trees
The beauty of flowers
Amongst all this pleasure
I could get lost for hours.

©Joe Wilson – The countryside for me…2017