A son’s tale…

On 20 Sep 2014 By jovisgoesIn Betrayal, Poetry, WarLeave a comment

Hal drew his sword from it’s long sheath
and faced his nemesis on this dark heath
and fought for life and fought till death
his enemy taking his last foul breath.

Long times this family feud had raged
and in its wake young men had aged
for now the devil would breathe no more
till others rose to settle the score.

Returned he then to his peaceful life
sharing in joy with his new young wife
and she did bear him fine young sons
he hoped his violent past was gone.

But the devil will often find ways back
and thus with time came a new attack
so Hal’s son drew his father’s sword
this ancient duel his family reward.

The feud had lasted for ere so long
kinsfolk recalled it oft in song
of troubles over betrayals done
and deathly duels betwixt each first son.

And then one day Hal’s nemesis fell
and hurt them-self as he could tell
he lowered his sword and approached his foe
removing helmet let long hair flow.

This time it seemed there was no heir
but duty fell to the eldest there
and so the woman had taken up sword
for she too felt her kin’s reward.

But Hal had fallen deep in love
so swore that he’d not raise a glove
and she too felt her heart was won
the betrayal forgotten they were as one.

©Joe Wilson – A son’s tale…
This was just a story set in medieval England
where unimaginatively all first sons are called Hal.
I’ve tried to write it in that kind of style.

‘Walter’

On 27 Apr 201430 Apr 2014 By jovisgoesIn Illness, PoetryLeave a comment

Albert Fish, born 1870, the Brooklyn Vampire, an example of a ‘Walter’.

Walter never understood what he had done wrong
In his head he heard only a sad haunting song
He sat in the courtroom as he had been bidden
All sense of the seriousness from him was hidden.

His mother had left him when he was but a child
His father he’d not known, they said he was wild
And to the children’s home where he had been placed
He was often returned after some strange disgrace.

To him it was natural, he liked to trap rats
And later dissect them, and the dogs, and some cats
But the thrill of small creatures was beginning to bore
So he turned then to people, once one, then lots more.

They followed him willingly when he offered the treat
Of a room in his house as opposed to the street
Then he drugged them and tied them as they lay asleep
And cut them to pieces just like he did sheep.

His total was forty as far as they could tell
They had come to his house because of the smell
He’d eaten some of them and the taste was so good
And Walter was especially fond of the blood.

Now here he sat quietly for the jury to see
This ‘disgusting murderer’ who ate people for tea
And he hummed the strange song that he heard in his head
Wondering who he could eat before going to bed.

Each day when they finished he was taken away
And locked in a small room so he couldn’t stray
And it never occurred to him that he had done wrong
As he sat and he rocked and he hummed his sad song.

©Joe Wilson – ‘Walter’ 2014
Like most people I’ve had the good fortune never to encounter a ‘Walter’, but I have had an interest in criminology for many years. I do hope the subject matter and poem doesn’t upset or offend anybody. ©Joe Wilson – ‘Walter’ 2014

A Magical Moment…and then it’s gone!

On 20 Apr 201413 Sep 2014 By jovisgoesIn Loss, Poetry, Point of View, political, Poverty, Regret, Terror, War1 Comment

Within that magical moment
The world is at one and at ease
Everyone is loving their neighbour
And we have control of disease.

But it doesn’t last, it cannot last
It will all go back as before
To the dying from hunger and violence
To man’s unending desire for war.

One man plants a crop for food
But another man reaps the gain
The one making life from the profit
While another’s reward is just pain.

If a man is black, or yellow, who cares!
His blood like yours is red
The bullets or knives that pierce your skins
Would make you both as dead.

A man gets beaten in the street
His crime was being gay
Who gave those others the right to judge
Will prejudice never go away?

The ones with strength to dominate
Should nonetheless take heed
When they themselves are wanting help
Who’ll stay to fill that need.

I hear the ever-growing rains
They flood the town and field
Where hardship’s felt so gravely
Where man is forced to yield.

Perhaps we brought it on ourselves
We feel the need for so much
But there are so many with nothing
Who’d benefit from a gentle touch.

Back to that magical moment
It’s the one just before I awake
Where the next moment comes and it’s over
And it can’t be put right with a shake.

©Joe Wilson – A Magical Moment…and then it’s gone! 2014

1914 – It’ll Be Over By Christmas

On 20 Mar 201423 Mar 2014 By jovisgoesIn heroes, Poetry, Point of View, WarLeave a comment

His mate sent a letter to his girl back at home
All the houses in their road put out flags
They were led to believe that the war wouldn’t last
By Christmas they’d be back at home smoking fags.

But it wasn’t so, he was still there on Christmas Day
With others just like him who were terrified
He’d heard they’d played footie somewhere miles away
But they carried on shooting and more men died.

He’d not really known how much a man could hate mud
But when it got in your food, then your eyes
And when you slept in it, and lived in it day after day
When men died in it their blood made dark dyes.

And the deafening noise of the guns just kept on
Till his eardrums had burst and made him deaf
The noise carried on like a dull thumping sound
He’d have run, but he’d got no run left.

All around him his friends were all dying
His mate with the letter had now gone
From the hundreds who’d been in the trench yesterday
Of the twenty-nine left, he was one.

What was this madness, again his heart cried
These men he must kill and for why
He couldn’t understand why the generals back home
Sent here all these young men just to die.

Then a round hit him just under his rib-cage
And the blood that oozed out was dark red
There was no medic nor anyone near him
So he bled out on his own till he was dead.

So another man lay in the mud dying
Still the reasons of why would remain
He just knew that those back at home waiting
Would get the sad telegram of pain.

©JRW2014

One in a group of poems recognising the centenary of WWI

Death by Violence

On 23 Jan 201414 Jan 2015 By jovisgoesIn Personal, Poetry, Point of ViewLeave a comment

Some people just don’t bloody care
They see injustice with ghoulish stare
But being beaten about the head
Lying bloodied and left for dead
Can leave you a cynic of humankind
Of passers-by whose gaze is blind.

Am I not human like you lot
As I lie here midst blood and snot
Do you not care a damn for me
This isn’t how it used to be.

But no help comes, I’m left instead
I’ve drawn last breath – and now I’m dead.

War and Death and Greed

On 2 Jan 20148 Feb 2014 By jovisgoesIn Poetry, Point of ViewLeave a comment

War is a cash-cow, there will always be war
– and people will die in the bloodlust and gore
But those who decide on such things never go
– to the battlefront, armed, and frightened of foe
For they’re in their offices making decisions
– as the blades cut the air and men die from incisions.

War is foolish and madness, obscene and absurd
– differences need solving not by bullets, but with words
Sitting round the table for as long as it takes
– and negotiating wisely, no foolish mistakes
But as long as some profit from other people’s death
– they’ll make more blooded money till their own dying breath.

Can we afford to continue to fight in this battle
– racing to slaughter each other like cattle
We cannot keep falling out with our neighbours
– death can’t be the only reward for our labours
Man seems to have battled for two thousand years
– and innocent lives get drowned in the tears.

Stop now…stop now, before it’s too late
– destroying each other leaves the planet to fate
The hatred that spreads through the ill chosen word
– we need to address this, surely peace is preferred
The world needs to stop fighting, we have to do better
– to put an end for the need for the widow’s sad letter.