Prideful consequences…

I gaze from my window at mid-Autumn sunshine
A breeze lifting those few leaves that still cling on
And I think back to the times that I spent with you
Just memories now, for you’ve gone.

And every flower that stood so proud
In the garden we both grew and cherished
Has fallen now to the chill of the frost
And the fruits on the trees are but perished.

I think that they miss you as I do now
If they could they surely would wonder
How foolish is man who drives such a wedge
That sends love away like a loud bark of thunder.

Here now as the cold has settled itself in
Self-pity takes a hold as it will
For each blames the other for this wrong, or that
Yet each loves the other so very much still.

So you went and I fear that I drove you
I was foolish and prideful and wrong
And now on my own with my pity
I realise alone I’m not strong.

Slowly the leaves have now fallen to ground
Soon the winter will start to take hold
I’ll do anything to win back your heart
So our memories won’t die in the cold.

©Joe Wilson – Prideful consequences…2016

An excess of pride…(two sonnets which can be read individually, but my intention is that you read them together as a single poem.)

injured-child

 

For life is not a young man’s game
To flutter like moths around a flame
Yet as we age the larger scene
Will leave the clues for us to glean.
And in maturing as we do
With friends right there to help us through
It’s clear, though some may need a shove
The only thing that counts – is love.

And of the world in which we live
So much war, who can forgive?
And yet forgiveness is a start
More men need Mandela’s heart
A blood-soaked land he turned to loam
By finding peace as he walked home.

——————————–

And so full circle back to dust
Disposed of with respect we trust
Earth to generation new
With baited-breath, what will they do?
For surely now they see the light
As love gets lost in vicious fight
And yet it could with care reside
If foolish men had far less pride.

For battles now need not be fought
If peace not power were what men sought
As children die along the way
Never to see a better day.
Look in their tiny saddened eyes
Sit down and talk, and compromise.

©Joe Wilson – An excess of pride…2016

His pride…

For despite all that we feel
Even in our blackest of moments
We are not alone…and yet
It is always that most difficult of things
To say – help me, help me please.

And were a man to even note
How hurt he really felt
He’d wrap himself within himself
And cry right where he knelt.

For man is such a foolish thing
His pride forever in his wake
As sees he help as weakness
And only given for pity’s sake.

Such tender words are offered
But cold his foolish soul
Instead of reaching to that touch
He resolutely keeps control.

Until the wreck falls down in tears
And weeps his life of pain
Yet someone always helps him up
As once more she is there again.

And finally he’ll realise
Indeed, we’re not alone
His grief is shared by many souls
it’s not just his to own.

©Joe Wilson – His pride…2016

More thoughts of home…

Milwichhall-hall-in-the-snow

So here we are at our old home, Clem
I’ve a joy that makes me think of kin
Yet here though are we, there’s no sign of them
They too have moved on in this new world we’re in.
But we have here the creak of the old gate
By the cottage where once more we live
And the river I fear will still flood in spate
The forces of nature just never forgive.

Settled again, Clem, and the cottage is comfy
We’re happy here, me and your Ma
It’s a fact son, we’re folks of the country
Who you’ll sometimes visit in your car.
But it was fine working with you along at my side
Though for me it was too far from home
Yet I’m happy son that you stayed, you fill us with pride
But retired now we both choose no longer to roam.

©Joe Wilson – More thoughts of home…2016

A sort of sequel to ‘Dreaming of home’.
Both were written in a style similar to O. Henry
[William Sidney Porter (1862 – 1910)]

Such foolish pride…

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

Ezra’s final conversation…

Ezra cried out,
‘Lord, where art thou in my hour of need?’

Silence prevailed.

‘Lord, canst thou give unto me no succour?’

Silence prevailed.

Ezra in desperate straits
His future in the hand of Fates
Tries and fails to escape their claws
For evil is there chosen course.

Ezra cried out,
‘Lord, why dost thou make my life so hard?’

Silence prevailed.

‘Lord, why am I so tested?’

Silence.

Ezra fights against his foe
The pride that he has come to know
He fights against with all his might
And wins, and moves his sin from sight.

Ezra cried out,
‘Lord, thou truly art a sly old thing.’

Silence prevailed.

‘Lord, I hear thy angels sing.’

‘Lord, thou hast helped me yet again.’

Silence.

Ezra smiled.
Ezra slept.

©Joe Wilson – Ezra’s final conversation…2015