Tag: death

The Fall…

On By jovisgoesIn Accidents, Children, Family, Father, Fear, Illness, Life, Loss, Love, Poetry, Regret, TimeLeave a comment

I fell from the top of a tall block of apartments.

How I remember my children growing
and the never-ending beauty of my wife
my boy and my girl, so full of knowing
my darling, the centre of my humble life.

But the ground rushes up at me as I fly down so fast.

I’ve loved the same woman for all of my time
contented and happy and passionate are we
I remember the night full of vodka and lime
when I asked my love if she would marry me.

And still the ground races up at me…

What joy we have had on our long journey here
with some pains that we’ve shared and endured
sadness has crept in and occasional fear
but we beat it all back and we still feel assured.

I hit the ground — there is nowhere else to go…

Did I make it…did I not?
Was it a dream…was it not?

©The Executor acting for Joe Wilson – The Fall…2015

The numbers rise…

On By jovisgoesIn Belief, Corruption, Faith, Life, Loss, Pacifism, Poetry, political, Regret, so-called civilised, War1 Comment

Walked I along this Autumn morn
midst trees with bright red berries borne
where once men stood with with tanks as shields
on Europe’s bloodiest battlefields.

And in extraordinary Worldly War
friends kill friends who’re friends no more
as lines are drawn and power revealed
where once such things had lain concealed.

How many men and women died
for pious thoughts and national pride
whose wasted lives now lie beneath
that trampled o’er when we cross heath.

The bodies fall, the numbers rise
more victims of political lies
and yet some people still would fight
convinced that they are in the right.

Twas ever thus and shall remain
the populace feel power’s disdain
yet even now we fight their wars
with they as pimps and we their whores.

©Joe Wilson – The numbers rise…2015

Heads, you lose…

On By jovisgoesIn Accidents, carelessness, Driving, Fate, Life, Loss, Motorways, Poetry, Time1 Comment

Speeding along not a care in the world
the young man and his beautiful girl
driving in an open-topped E-type Jag
they were happy
………………………….and life was a whirl.

They were racing along the motorway
fast approaching Gravelly Hill
when a tanker jack-knifed in front of them
……….I can hear their screaming still.

They had nowhere to go but under
the trailer, however, was too low
and I, in a car a short distance back
saw both of their heads suddenly
…………………………………………………go.

One head rolled onto the hard shoulder
and sat there staring right back at me
while the other bounced over the railing
and fell into Witton
……………………………….for all there to see.

It put me off my lunch I can tell you
for that’s where I was going at the time
and if it wasn’t for the fact that it’s totally true
it would be a case of the ridiculous
……………………………….from the sublime.

 

©Joe Wilson – Heads, you lose…2015

The trawlerman’s wife & the 1953 spring-tide disaster…

On By jovisgoesIn Fate, Loss, Poetry, Survival, TimeLeave a comment
Flood
Mablethorpe 2 Feb 1953

 

A little dot of light in the distance
Signalled that they were on their way home
She was waiting at her own insistence
As the trawler drew closer through the foam.

Her man had taken another man’s place
And he sailed with yesterday’s tide
But their baby was due in only three days
She wanted him back on dry land by her side.

It caused her to reflect on her father
He’d been lost in the’53 spring tide
That had raced down the east coast of England
Brushing trawlers and ferries to one side.

They called it ‘The Big Flood’, it was really that bad
It happened unexpectedly
Two and a half thousand, including her dad
Were drowned and swallowed by the sea.

January thirty-first into February one
The storm raged like no other before
Then it turned out to sea and was suddenly gone
Leaving death and devastation in it’s maw.

The trawler was pulled into the harbour
And her husband jumped the jetty and ran
He took her into his arms and she worried no more
He was home, he was safe, and her man.

 

©Joe Wilson – The trawlerman’s wife & the 1953 spring-tide disaster…2015

The winter struggle…

On By jovisgoesIn Fate, Life, Mammal, Nature, Poetry, Survival, Winter4 Comments

Winter creeps across the land
where mighty oaks and birch trees stand
and insects hid beneath the ground
face certain death if they are found
by mice or rats…and foxes too
nature’s food chain survival glue.

But up above the canopy
buzzards hunt by two or three
they square the ground on high patrol
in search of rabbit or tasty vole
life’s bitter struggle is borne this way
the same tomorrow as yesterday.

And as the winter creep moves on
the weakest creatures now all gone
rats and rabbits…mice and voles
bed down for winter in food-stocked holes
yet o’er the land where we draw breath
there’s barely sign of this fight with death.

 

©Joe Wilson – The winter struggle…2015

 

The Weeping Book…

On By jovisgoesIn Decadence, Fate, Fear, Life, Poetry, Regret, Terror, War, wisdomLeave a comment

He opened the binding of The Weeping Book
curiousity piqued, he needed to look
but how he wished he had never seen
the horrors therein that were so obscene.

The guilt of man along the passage of time
senseless slaughter without reason or rhyme
each page he turned ill had been done
by book possessed he ventured on.

The rape and pillage of those years before
children the victims of violent war
races were mixed, the one good thing
vicious hecklers of bigotry sing.

On and on through the pages now
the hurt caused pain behind his brow
saints and sinners all listed here
their sins for all to see quite clear.

He saw the vilest sins of history’s pain
enslavement of those for other’s gain
let loose man’s done some terrible things
hope’s voice is quelled by vicious stings.

The Weeping Book so perfect in name
from front to end it’s full of shame
and he a priest of noble birth
would find before day’s end, his worth.

No water passed his lips, nor food
his mind so troubled by soured mood
and then the page on which he gazed
revealed the future of a man gone crazed.

No change could he make to the book
transfixed at his poor fate he’d look
and as he pushed the dagger deep
as fate revealed he went to sleep.

The Weeping Book then slammed tight shut
till guilty man next came and put
his hand upon the tome’s dark cover
then his sad fate he’d soon discover.

©Joe Wilson – The Weeping Book…2014

His last words (25 December 1914)…

On By jovisgoesIn Children, Christmas, Family, Father, Friendship, heroes, Life, Loss, Love, Poetry, The World, War, WinterLeave a comment
war_edited
…a lonely grave…

 

 

Scarred from the relentless passage of time
pitted with acid rain and covered with grime
forgotten by those who oft pass it by
gazed rarely upon by anyone’s eye.

A proud little monument in a faraway  field
with now faded words and a family shield
his nation had called and he’d gone off to war
though he and his friends didn’t really know what for.

And if you should wander and wonder at it
you’ll probably feel as if you have been hit
by the words that you see that are writ thereupon
“It is with such sadness that I bury my son.”

The last words they had, came back home in a letter
“It can’t go on Father, it has to get better
the killing is awful, they’re young men much like us
Please kiss dearest Mother, and a Merry Christmas.

 

©Joe Wilson – His last words (25 December 1914)… 2014

Lost ships…

On By jovisgoesIn Life, Loss, Love, old age, Poetry, TimeLeave a comment
Photographed off the coast of Bournemouth 2013 (Joe Wilson)

 

 

She sits alone with her ancient thoughts
she’s sat till she’s covered in grime
she never moves from her rocking chair
she just wiles away the time.

What does go on inside her head?
what does she really think?
the pain has made her look so sad
with eyes that rarely blink.

Her hands are hard and calloused
the cracks are etched so deep
you sense she feels some fearful hurt
but never does she weep.

Some say she’s sat for thirty years
They say she loved a sailor
It’s also said all hands were lost
The prey to a ghostly whaler.

That ship set sail from Mulgrave Port
With fifteen men on board
The seas were rough and wind was hard
but fin whales beckoned Nor’ard.

A listing ship in thick fog banks
the crew fell to watery graves
they now haunt the eastern seaboard
or rest beneath those stormy waves.

So the old crone will sit there forever
she knows that her man won’t return
she’ll sit there and rock while she’s waiting
to join him when Death calls her turn.

©Joe Wilson – Lost ships…2014 (originally 1992)

He looked at the cross…

On By jovisgoesIn Anger, Belief, Faith, Family, Father, Life, Loss, Love, PoetryLeave a comment

It had been a while
it had been an age
since he last let his style
wander over the page.

He still felt such rage
which made him feel dire
but there’d be no next stage
till he’d put out this fire.

He felt so much calmer
as ink flowed ‘cross the page
words were such a disarmer
he had issues to engage.

The more that he penned
the calmer he got
as he tried to amend
and move on from this spot.

But at the very last line
with his pen in the margin
he tore it up as a sign
and he’d write it again.

____________________

Anger all gone now
he looked at the cross
and he knew then that somehow
He was sharing his loss.

He felt again whole
as he laid his pen down
he felt back in control
from a peace he’d now found.

Presently he turned again to his labours
leaving his writing and going back to his lathe
and as he looked over at one of his neighbours
he thought of his son on a cross being brave.

Who’d not spoken of God
or of angels with wings
but of the land and the sod
and of bread, fish and things.

Ah the mysteries of life
are such a matter of faith
she was Joseph’s wife
But ’twas God kept her safe.

©Joe Wilson – He looked at the cross…2014

This is a sort of fantasia on Joseph’s story

All His children…

On By jovisgoesIn Belief, Faith, Family, Homo-sapien, Life, Mammal, Poetry, The WorldLeave a comment

 

He leaves the village and takes his bow

and soon in silence his prey he’ll know

he’ll kill a boar and his family is fed

life in the margins is that or be dead.

He’ll cut the beast down the centre line

give half to his neighbour, he is that kind

this is their way, these people are fair

with their neighbours and friends they always share.

But let us not forget the soul of the boar

He reached into its heart and his then did soar

the beast served its purpose, fed people, went rotten

its soul though was pure, and by Him, not forgotten

©Joe Wilson – All His children… 2014