The bitterness is no longer a surprise
It is a daily taste to relish
Nothing seems to mean that much
Those reaching out can’t feel my touch
I have slowly immersed myself in grief
And loneliness with the crowd
Is found to be a small relief.

And yet, I ask myself tonight
What right have I to shun my friends
For there I’ll find a sense of peace
As bitter feelings find release
For they may feel such pain as I
And hurt inside as much – and feel
That awful, awful need to cry.

©Joe Wilson – Lost…2016

Should we carry on…

It’s sometimes
so hard
hard to breathe
hard to focus
hard to see any way forward
so hard to want to live.

And yet…

There is still
so much to live for
a child struggling to understand
another thinking she does but hiding sadness
a man so brave but yet so pained
a woman so hurt by loss she cries
she cries herself to sleep at night
and you, a duty to help despite yourself.

And you
and you…
what of you?

Can you make your way again?
through all of this pain…

Will you ever be happy?

is surely a mystery
and we
can only ever
do our best…

©Joe Wilson – Should we carry on…2016


Recall a memory and have a smile
Shuffle off the tragic thoughts for a while
And open up your mind to joy
Feelings these days you don’t employ.
For you can see such times you laughed
Till sadness swept through like a draught
But happy memories can yet sustain
A heart that feels so riven with pain.

A holiday snap in Trearddur Bay
Everyone laughing, such a wonderful day
Where happiness spread through childish fun
A good time enjoyed by everyone.
Such thoughts I’ll hold for evermore
I was so lucky, of that I’m sure.

©Joe Wilson – Memories…2016

It was such a great holiday.

This Sunday…

Vicky (McMillan)

Sunday, and my garden offers me privacy
I sit drinking essential coffee and I cogitate
About all that has happened, all we have lost
The bottles of whisky, my own body’s cost
And I ponder some more and feel second rate.

I wish that you’d known the muse of my life
For so many people loved my beautiful girl
Her courage and her resolve so strong
Friends all say how she was loved for so long
In my last film of her she’s dancing a twirl.

I forced myself , I’ve had to, I really have
To stop drinking whisky every night
I think she’d say I was bat-shit crazy
To spend so much time drinking and seeing life hazy
So I’ve stopped because I know it’s so right.

So I’m digging a hole, in the ground, in the garden
And the sweat runs so heavy down my back
It’s a hole, just a hole, there’s nothing going in
But it’s helping me a little, and perhaps I’ll get thin
And it helps lift the mood when it’s black.

©Joe Wilson – This Sunday…2016

This is very personal to me and I once again beg your indulgence.

Grief and sadness…

like cobwebs
in the darkest corner
mocking the tears
that having flowed
now dry in the air
and leave
that sticky dryness
on your cheek.
And a heart that pounds
Too fast, too fast.
Till slowly
the Jack
or Jim
or Elias
lulls you to a sleep
where once again
you face the nightmares
where together
you fight
that terrible beast
that tries to do you in.
And by her side
you win.
But yet
when dawn inevitably breaks
you once again
find yourself

©Joe Wilson – Grief and sadness—2016


He gently laid down his knife and fork.

Why the thought had suddenly occurred
he had no real idea, nor did he ponder
Stopping only to tie his shoes
he headed for the door, and yonder.

The evening was as cold as it was dark.

He cared not a bit, he barely noticed
as he strode off purposefully to where?
To no one he spoke, nor wave his hand
for he himself knew not till he was there.

He walked for miles across fields and hills.

It was quite some time before he slowed
and when he stopped he was thinking.
For he’d forgotten why he’d left his home,
he just stood there, sadly blinking.

©Joe Wilson – Lost…2016

The unbearable waiting…


No recognisable thoughts are in his mind these days
Only sorrow for the loss, he feels so achingly sad
He had never lived alone before, it wasn’t for him, normal
His life at this time was the unhappiest he’d had.

He’d watched as she crumbled and the weight brought him sorrow
He was crushed by the heartache that accompanies such loss
He had not faired too well by himself to be quite honest
Now he sits by the grave that slowly covers with moss.

And all that he waits for is for one day to join her
The unbearable wait overwhelms him so much
Only the end when it comes can now please him
For he so hopes to find her for their hearts to retouch.

He’d loved her for all of the time he remembered
Theirs was such love that one never defines
Now he sits so lonely and awaits his dark angel
To carry him back home to the love he so pines.

©Joe Wilson – The unbearable waiting…2016

I remember Miss Havisham…

In dust motes, her should-have-been trousseau now sat
She’d no heart to throw it away
It sat all forlorn by his unworn top hat
They held bitter memories of that awful day.

For five years they’d lived as husband and wife
In the end they decided to wed
They wanted to commit for the whole of their life
But to sorrow they committed instead.

The sun had been high on that beautiful day
And the sky was so bright and so blue
All had been perfect in that special way
But misfortune attended and away his life flew.

So lovely she’d looked as she stood outside church
He was so often late, no surprise
Then news made its way and she gave a slight lurch
She just crumbled before everyone’s eyes.

He’d been running to church, he was five minutes late
Dismissing the great surge in his chest
He fell to the ground in a terrible state
He’d be late now forever, his last breath expressed.

She has memories to keep to remember him by
And the daughter that they had both had
But the saddest of things, that will oft make her cry
Is her daughter’s soft spoken, ‘I so miss my Dad’.

©Joe Wilson – I remember Miss Havisham…2016

Lonely is the king-sized bed…

Lonely is the king-sized bed
That only sees one resting head
The other left and gone away
Love was gone and hearts can stray.

Love is not a trivial game
Of winning points with one’s old flame
It is hard work and worthy too
And worth the love she gives to you.

I have been blessed these many years
Lonely, one of my great fears
But I’ve worked hard and so has she
My darling gives her love to me.

©Joe Wilson – Lonely is the king-sized bed…2015

The letters…

Heavy the heart
Painful the burden
The messenger’s part
In passing the word on.

Deep are the creases
That now line his brow
The pain never ceases
It’s personal somehow.

His was the book
Which counted the dead
But each killing took
His heart’s peace instead.

They were his men
He loved them like sons
They’ll not sing again
Silenced by guns.

The letters he wrote
To tell of each death
Families he smote
By words of last breath.

The killing decided
There’s no final amount
Messenger lies dead
One more for the count.

©Joe Wilson – The letters…2015