Tag: love

Good Intentions…

On By jovisgoesIn PoetryLeave a comment

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)

Amongst the mermaids…

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The bright blue sea in which they swam
Was so deep, so very, very deep
They held each other in eternal love
And swore their hearts they’d keep.
Down and down and down they swam
To a depth they couldn’t believe
Yet on they pressed as they both held hands
Leaving those at the surface to grieve.
But don’t be sad they beg of you
They’re happy and will never part
They swim now amongst the mermaids
Together with their joined lovers’ heart.
That we could all find a happiness
Of such depth that we’d give up all
For true love turns hearts into heroes
Whilst without love our lives remain small.

©Joe Wilson – Amongst the mermaids…2016

Beyond that hill…

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Battered by life, yet courageous still, he struggled with each step as he climbed up that hill. He lived all alone, he was now eighty-one, for his beloved wife Alice had long since passed on. And the shop in the village is at the top of the hill, he walked up there slowly on odd weekdays still.

He promised his Alice that he’d never give in, though it was hard he took it on the chin. And to her memory he climbed up the hill every week, not saying much, he’d no breath left to speak. But there was another good reason why he went up like that, the cemetery’s up there and he went for a chat. With his Alice, who he loved for the whole of his life, who made him so happy while she was his wife.

He carried his bag with a flask filled with tea, and a small pack of biscuits which he ate about three. Together they chose a nice spot near a tree, where a bench had been placed by the council you see. He sat down and chatted to his Alice with a smile, and then listened as she answered him after a while. He knew that some people must have thought he was daft, he told this to Alice and together they laughed.

After a while he gathered his things and then said his goodbyes as he now turned to leave. There was always a teardrop that fell from his face that he wiped away slowly on the edge of his sleeve.

He carried on like this for so many years, until finally he too turned to dust, but the message he left with his Alice for us, is we should love for ever, we just really must.

©Joe Wilson – Beyond that hill…2016

It can be mended…

On By jovisgoesIn Poetry, romance1 Comment

Would that I could lift a heart
That’s fallen to the floor
That I could love and cherish it
For now and evermore.

Would that I could do that small thing
Before my frail heart breaks
Please let me do that caring thing
In love for both our sakes.

No words you need to utter here
Yet silent you’re torn apart
So I will bend and pick it up
And mend your broken heart.

©Joe Wilson – It can be mended…2016

An empty wardrobe…

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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

Growing up…

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Slowly she took a bite out of the peach she was holding
A small trickle of juice glistened on her little chin
She didn’t care, nor stopped to wipe it away
She just looked about her taking everything in.
And in that innocence I think I felt
All the years of joy that we had had
When watching our own two children grow
And the simple pleasure of just being dad.

Slowly they grow and make their own way
Out into the world of unknowing
To hopefully be happy and find that in life
Contentment comes from kindness you’re sowing.
And later perhaps they will understand
That money and wealth aren’t the thing
It’s simply observing your children
That will make a loving heart sing.

©Joe Wilson – Growing up…2016

I remember Miss Havisham…

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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

Mr Dickens and my newly opened eyes…

On By jovisgoesIn Poetry3 Comments

I was a shy and rather awkward boy when my father died
Insular, feeling alone, for a while I gave up and no longer tried.
As I journeyed on through my strange teenage years
I got into many fights, I was fighting my fears.
I grew big and tough and never was downed
But my heart was near breaking and I very near drowned.
In time I found love which is surely so good
We’ve loved ever since as hard as we could.

But a gift you say, a gift real and true
‘Twas the books of Charles Dickens, Mr Dickens, ‘twas you.
Many was the time I’d immerse in your fables
Hoping as always for the weak to turn tables
And often they did, but oft times at great cost
In tales based on those who you helped, who were lost.
Thus a hundred years after the year that you died
I decided to write, and with a conscience I’ve tried.

I read and I read and I stretched out my mind
Hoping my soul would behave in like kind.
Then I took to my pen scribbling that which I knew
In red , green and black ink, and often just blue.
And writing is plentiful, though not always good
But I try and improve as always one should
Thus inspired me you did, in your books as I grew
So the gift that is so true, Mr Dickens, is you.

©Joe Wilson – Mr Dickens and my newly opened eyes…2015

Let me not for a second minimise the wonderful gift my wife has been to me, I’ve written about her frequently, indeed I couldn’t resist slipping in the two lines about her here. But I met Mr Dickens first and he too has always accompanied me in my Night Walks through The Battle of Life.

Silently in love…

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old2

Silence is the killer
It slowly breaks you up
It says so much in nothing
It drains the loving cup.
It makes the days seem endless
It makes the nights so dark
It makes what’s living seem so dead
It takes away the spark.

And yet, there is a silence
Twixt lovers like me and you
That simply fills with love unique
Like that between us two.

For us there is no hollow
No void that can’t be reached
Our love fills all the spaces
And not a drop has leeched.

©Joe Wilson – Silently in love…2015

Such foolish pride…

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Locked up safe inside the brain
Those thoughts of you and all your pain
Pain that he had wrought on you
Accusations, cruel, untrue.
Alone, forgiven, here he’ll sit
To have your love he is unfit
And thinking back his tears return
To fall on guilty cheeks that burn.

Such foolish pride do men possess
Who when mistaken, can’t confess
Yet sit alone and brood unnerved
Where conversation isn’t served
Until at last we face ourself
And see our guilt in all its wealth.

©Joe Wilson – Such foolish pride…2015