An empty wardrobe…

And so once more he looked at her, as he had so often before. He looked at her with love in his eyes as she walked right out of the door. She always said that she wouldn’t stay, but they met so long ago, that he never even thought of it. He just didn’t think she’d go.

And now he sits alone at night at a table set for one, her perfume lingers in the air but all her things are gone. The wardrobe now is not crammed full, her shoes no longer there. The mirrors and her hairbrush, nor even a single hair.

They’d argued many times before, such little tiny things. This time it couldn’t be resolved, the pain of it still stings. Neither one would yield at all, it then got out of hand. And bitter words then followed which neither could understand.

So thus it seemed that all this time their life had not been real, the things she thought she had once felt, she didn’t really feel. All the things she had at first, all the sense of thrill. She had to go she told him although she loved him still.

And so he waits for her return, in patient solitude. He said he’d always wait for her, whatever she pursued. But knocks on the door are infrequent and keys in the latch are none. He sadly, looks in the wardrobe and knows she will always be gone.

©Joe Wilson – An empty wardrobe…2016

Far too many guns…

He didn’t know the victim
In fact they’d never met
Their ideas though, were as different
As it was possible to ever get.

The victim had always worked so hard
And had had a degree of success
He lived his life in a low-key way
And was happy in his comfortable mess.

The shooter had always worked hard too
But success had passed him by
He never seemed to do much good
No matter the different things he’d try.

And thus they stood there face to face
The bitterness pouring off one
He took his aim at his victim
Pulled the trigger and then he was gone.

Another pointless killing
Of an innocent man in a street
The killer just taking out his vengeance
On the first man he chanced to meet.

Such is life in this so modern world
Where guns outnumber their control
When being alone in the wrong place
Can see your body get parted from your soul…

©Joe Wilson – Far too many guns…2015

A depressive state – but not as we know it…

Anger rises, an outlet sought
A kind of peace not easy bought
It never used to be like this
The signs of cracks and things amiss
Can send us down the dark hallways
That lead to melancholy days.

Of pain and heartache on both sides
Who ever thought there were free rides?
We have to stand and keep our nerve
And fight for principles we serve
Of honour, love and dignity
And once again, our hearts set free.

Sacrifices must be made
A bright future, a good fair trade.

©Joe Wilson – A depressive state – but not as we know it…2015

I was angry, but it passed.


The taste left by the bitterness of anger
unlike that which is caused by over-indulgence
cannot be forced away by milk of magnesia
but by humility, understanding and forgiveness.

Oft times it is humility which leads to
a thoughtful understanding which in turn promotes
feelings of forgiveness that are quietly kept
but which serve as unspoken personal antidotes.

But what elation when normal calmness returns
to fill the soul with so much joy and peace
If anger serves to do nought else – then appreciate
that pleasantry which follows the ire’s release.

©Joe Wilson – I was angry, but it passed 2014



As he staggered through the door drunk
so his wife knew she was in for a beating
she could forgive him the anger he felt
she was the one who had betrayed him
she was the one who had been unfaithful
what she could not forgive were the beatings
he had no right to do that to her, he had no right
she had never imagined him to be a violent man
but since he felt the betrayal he had drunk
he had drunk so much he could often barely stand
but still he had no right to beat her, he had no right.

One night he went completely crazy and broke both of her legs
he broke one of her arms too but with the other one
she stabbed him to death with his favourite knife
she stabbed him so hard they couldn’t get the knife
out of his stomach till they did the autopsy
now everyone’s life is ruined, his, hers
the children’s, and his parents
and her parents, and their friends
and their neighbours, their work colleagues
and everybody they knew in some small way
has been affected and altered in some way.

She was wrong, he was wrong, everyone suffers
none of us are perfect and there are always


©Joe Wilson – Consequences 2014

My wife and I have had a lovely marriage that is still beautiful after forty-two years.
I just wish, rather naïvely perhaps, that others could be as fortunate.
Violence is no answer. ❤



the acid just burns away at your guts
it is the commonest feature of bile
it grabs at the chest and causes such pain
from carrying the hatred all that while.

it was carried about for so many years
and it tore at the heart feelings too
leaving a husk that was almost burnt out
and inside that husk – there is you.

such bitter thoughts have followed you
and anger at what they had done
so now you’ve returned for what purpose
– to finish what they had begun?

they thought they’d done right, they were wrong
they exiled you once – and will again
for the genes that run right through your bloodline
make you different to all other men.

try forgiveness – they’ve ignorance on their side
but you’re an intellect with no such excuse
one man turned his face against such menace once
and showed courage in the face of abuse.

let go of the anger that’s within you
or ignorance will win – yet again
for it will always fall to the wisest
to stand up to malevolent men.

©Joe Wilson – wisdom 2014