A social conscience…

Ignominiously dismissed after thirty long years
He could start a new life, or just drown in cold beers.
He was sitting at a bar with a pint of cold Bass
When suddenly he smiled and put down his glass.
The thought of injustice hit him hard when it struck
He stood up and walked out with no backward look.

He took up his pen and he scribbled long and hard
He wrote all his grievances in a book of white card
Then he put it away at the back of a drawer
And thought, that’s the past, I’m not there anymore.

He wrote about losses, especially job losses
Manipulative leaders and corruptible bosses
And realised quite soon he was still in the past
Though his real desire was a fresh start at last
But he found out quite soon that wasn’t the plan
Drive the man from his life…
but not the life from the man.

Yet what has amazed him over these years
Is how many others seem to share his same fears
Old people treated with such wicked disdain
Parasites of the state is a frequent refrain
Young people shout but don’t understand
As they jump to the tune of some motley band.

And the young themselves who cannot find work
Not a socialist crowd, very few a young Turk.
They haven’t the heart like we had in the past
Nor that striding for right, not one iconoclast.
But they jump on the bandwagon shouting the odds
They’ll age just like us, the daft silly sods.

©Joe Wilson – A social conscience…2016

Good Intentions…

Though I am weakened with old aging bones
Yet still I would rise for my daily chores
And aching in joints from falls on the stones
I’m encouraged by my ‘keep going clause’.
And yet callow youth as I watch you play
My heart overflows with such ancient delights
In you I recall a memorable day
Soon to be followed by sleepless nights.
And now here you are with heart aflutter
Pure intentions kept in check by your fear
The delicate heart will sometimes stutter
Yet guides you for life if you let it steer.
      I feel so renewed as I watch the dance
      My heart blessed again by this new romance.

©Joe Wilson – Sonnet…2016

A sonnet the inspiration for which I drew from William Shakespeare (Sonnet XXXVII)

Yet another old memory…

Her perfume lingered in my nostrils
It reminded me of days long since gone
Of Mother making us treacle tart
And the way the sun always shone.

It didn’t of course, it was just childhood
And we like to think back to the good
Things like the sun always shining
And Mother’s delicious pud.

People then, had no central heating
In winter with fires, the house was cold still
And the water we took up to bed would freeze
Through the night on the windowsill.

Mother’s love was of course, unconditional
As was Dad’s till the day he died
And Mum dabbed on ‘Lily of the Valley’
As she stood by his coffin and cried.

So now, when a lady walks past me
Who is wearing that scent from those years
She’ll probably be a lady of advancing age
Who’s experienced those times and some tears.

And I will drift back to my childhood
But I’ll push out the parts that are bad
As I think of the fun and the love that I felt
I’ve no desire to look back and be sad.

©Joe Wilson – Yet another old memory…2015

Riding a bike with my dad…

I’m thinking now of my childhood
Of Dinky toys and a bright shiny trike
I travelled for miles going nowhere
On that beautiful three-wheeled bike.
It even had a boot on the back
Like a bread bin between the wheels
That I used to fill with books and toys
Only opened to best friend’s appeals.
The bike was bright red and I loved it
I raced round on it every day
Until that time when I was just too big
And the bike was taken away.
I missed that old red tricycle
It had been my companion for a while
But the two-wheeled cycle that Dad got
Soon turned my lips up in a smile.
It was a second-hand bike and quite grown-up
Hand-painted the darkest maroon
And I rode it for miles, this time with my dad
But it’s fun-giving days went too soon.
My next bike was blue, and a racer
Derailleur gears numbered ten
I wanted to ride out again with my dad
But he’d cycled his last before then.
My dad rode a bike for the whole of his life
Yet he never reached fifty-three
When I’m on a bike now, cycling along
I think of him riding with me.

©Joe Wilson – Riding a bike with my dad…2015

dum vita est spes est…

Mental absorption tires
As life continually inspires
Info grabbed for added strength
Keeping dotage at arms length.
Thinking thoughts for thinking’s sake
Mind in action as we wake
Reading books, writing words
Digging gardens, watching birds.
Adding grist to our brains mill
To keep on going we’ve the will
Brains reluctant to slow down
Till body’s stuck beneath the ground!!

©Joe Wilson – dum vita est spes est…2015

A new life…

And so they gave her chamomile
To restore her sense of calm
But each and every person there
Saw pointlessness in balm.
She would now always live in fear
He’d died, she was on her own
And she who’d lived a fragile life
Would spend her days alone.

And live she did, surprising most
A new life she took to
Her past fragility she shook off
In fact she even flew.
Around the world she travelled
To countries far and wide
And everywhere she journeyed
His heart felt by her side.
Until at almost ninety-nine
She then called it a day
Whilst jumping from an aeroplane
She kept her chute in stay.
But those who jumped out with her
Saw her face was so sublime
She shouted she was going now
To join him, it’s now time.
And so she fell down to the ground
Though gently she did fall
Carried down to earth in peace
As if held by her lover’s thrall.

©Joe Wilson – A new life…2015

Growing in Love

As a boy he’d not really imagined
What his life would be like as a man
He’d had lots of dreams like all boys did
But he’d hoped he could be Superman.

But of course life doesn’t turn out quite like that
And he’d moved through his youth at a pace
As a man he’d set forth and in a grown way
Got a job and joined the rat race.

On the way he met a woman and she loved him
A woman who still has such grace
They bought a small house in a village
And lived life at a much slower pace .

The rat race proved too much for his taste
He got out and then slowed down his life
He wrote down his thoughts each and every day
And he spent more precious time with his wife.

Many years have passed by in the village
The shop’s gone, and the Post Office too
And some of their old friends aren’t alive any more
And they think of them fondly, they do.

They’re getting on now as age takes the years
They still love each other more every day
And they’re happy they chose to live this life
For them it was always the way.

©Joe Wilson – Growing in love…2014