Tag: pride

Well we know where we belong don’t we?

On By jovisgoesIn Dreams, Life, Poetry, Point of View, political, The WorldLeave a comment

I know my Place

(With a respectful nod to Messrs. Cleese, Barker & Corbett)

He looked out of his fine high-ceilinged office
He looked down at the city far below
With sleeves rolled up and his blood pressure mounting
Profits missing meant workers had to go.

He didn’t care where they would come from
Little people never registered on his screen
He was totally focussed on making dollars
In that he was absolutely obscene.

A little way down from his high pedestal
Was where those desperate celebrities abide
Where they sit wafer-thin in dark glasses
As they feed like piranhas on the crowds.

And though the Hollywood moguls will use them
Because they are the puppets that they are
All memories of where they all came from
Are now just a small thing in the past.

Lower still you will find politicians
All waiting for the moment that is theirs
When they have the glory of the ‘fifteen minute fame’
Before they fall back to their own obscurity.

We on the other hand gather down in the street
Like sheep we wait there in the hope that we’ll meet
A top businessman who might give us a position
Or perhaps for a glance at a celebrity snob.

And just up above the media vultures hover
As they hope for a juicy story to break
They’ll not care a fig for the lives they devour
Just the ratings for them are at stake.

As they say ‘T’was ever thus’ and it shall ever be
And it seems that frankly it can only get worse
You see my fine friend it’s not the humans involved
It’s simply the size of the ever-growing purse.

©Joe Wilson – Well we know where we belong don’t we? 2014

Whisky and my pen…

On By jovisgoesIn Life, Loss, Love, Poetry, RegretLeave a comment
Faceted whisky glass
Faceted whisky glass

 

Wind blows its way right through my senses
All my thoughts have but slowly disappeared
One more large smoky glass of cheap whisky
One more sad lonely night that you’re not here.

Loneliness set in as the door quickly closed
Using the back door now and keeping that one shut
It will stay like that until ever you come back
But I’ve a notion now that it will stay put.

Old sore wounds that somehow resurfaced
Caused a bitter rift long forgotten to return
And the memories and the tears from the last time
Hit the heart, exploded and then burned.

So I sit trying to write and supping whisky
As I wait to hear your key in the front door
I hope with all my heart that you’ll forgive me
I can’t bear to be alone here any more.

The wind is getting stronger now and I thought I heard the latch
But it was just some fighting creatures out in the dark
So I’ll wait as I do each night with my whisky and my pen
Sitting here and waking up with the sound of the lark.

 

©Joe Wilson – Whisky and my pen 2014

A son’s tale…

On By jovisgoesIn Betrayal, Poetry, WarLeave a comment
Unknown origin
Unknown origin

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.

The scorn…

On By jovisgoesIn Betrayal, Family, Life, Loss, Poetry, War2 Comments

knights_templars_by_rumbles-d4o9ywk
He always walks with head so bowed
Keeping from the other’s crowd
For he has shame and guilt to bear
And for mocking voices he doesn’t care.

He once bore arms and was a knight
But turned once he from noble fight
And now a coward brand bears he
Upon his face for all to see.

But none can know just why he turned
Why battle honour he had spurned
They cannot know the man he’d fight
His father, that was this man’s plight.

For father fought on evil’s side
A fight against their family’s pride
And now he bears this wicked scorn
His father’s sin, the family torn.

©Joe Wilson – The scorn…2014

huddled together like lovers…

On By jovisgoesIn Life, old age, Poetry, PovertyLeave a comment
from AgeUK
from AgeUK

They sat in blankets as they tried to keep warm
penniless with no heating and no coal to burn
while outside they heard the violent storm
the blizzard of snow and ice all churn.

Slowly they both began to freeze to death
there was no-one to help or ease their plight
they were just poor and lonely old sisters
who would probably die in the dark of this night.

They were just another statistic of winter
a cold one much worse than some others
they had eked out their money on eating
so they now huddled together like lovers.

There are so many who suffer in winter
and we really should spare them a thought
we should all keep an eye out for our neighbour
as help, due to their pride is not sought.

It is dawn now and the sisters are frozen
one died and the other breathes slow
but there is no-one to even take notice
and in a short while like her sister she’ll go.

©Joe Wilson – huddled together like lovers…2014

The Choice

On By jovisgoesIn Poetry, Point of ViewLeave a comment

right way wrong way

The ever reducing spiral of the mind winds tighter,
tighter like a coil wrapped round a wiring loom
Until the tension causes it to snap, and
within the consciousness of man all hell breaks loose
And one will paint the finest representation of life,
while yet another will turn to the gun and kill
Thus exposing and exploding the myth and proving
man’s control of his own destiny, and his right to choose.

Path thus chosen will your life be that of the artist
who struggles to create and entertain and educate
Or will you choose the more deadly path
of violence and easy money and unlawfully acquired gain
Will you be a man of whom your parents
would one day be proud and say he always did his best
Or will you be the man who spends his every waking moment
serving out to others some ill-deserved pain.

You are a full-grown man now, you have to make a choice,
and that will show which way you choose to walk in life
Will you walk a wise man’s path working hard the honest way
and will you make your mark with pride
Or choose the darker path of distrust and deceit
and thus dishonour all who gave you help along the way
A path that causes those who cared far more for you
than you for them, to take the choice from you to hide.

These things of good and bad you now must choose about,
but take this thought with you to your heart
The path is not chosen for you, free-will,
remember, it’s yours and yours alone
So consider this when you ponder, it’s a choice
you may come to regret, if you choose the lawless way
And if you live that life, you must take into account,
the fact that you may just simply die on your own.

 

©Joe Wilson – The Choice 2014

Thoughts of Old Age

On By jovisgoesIn Loss, Love, old age, Poetry, Point of View, PovertyLeave a comment

800px-Flickr_-_HuTect_ShOts_-_Old_Age_Steps_-_Masjid-_Madrassa_of_Sultan_Hassan_-_Cairo_-_Egypt_-_16_04_2010
Photo by: Ahmed Al.Badawy, Cairo, Egypt

He was a very poor and sad old man whose pride belied his fear
That one day he’d be a burden to his folks who held dear.
He’d worked hard every single day, now he didn’t cope so well
He knew that his ears were a problem too, he was going deaf he could tell.

He guessed it was just a sign of his age, he’d soon be eighty-one
He’d been fitted with a hearing-aid, but he forgot to switch it on.
And though he had his radio on to listen to all the news
He struggled to tell what was being said, he rarely heard their views.

And so from time to time he sat and enjoyed his garden flowers
He didn’t need to hear them grow, he’d watch them sway for hours.
He’d take his paper and his specs and go down to his shed
And often not read anything as he’d fall asleep instead.

There are times when he forgets though and he sleeps in there all day
When his son or daughter find him, it’s getting more that way.
And he sometimes can’t remember what he’s supposed to do
It’s when his mind goes like this that his thoughts feel stuck in glue.

His son told him the other day he was looking for a place
Where others could look after him, but he’d still have his own space.
He’ll never want to leave this house, his memories are all here
His dear wife still lives in its heart, he won’t go, is that clear!!

But now the odds are against him as he struggles every day
He sometimes doesn’t dress quite right and he cannot properly shave.
And he’ll sometimes sit and weep the tears of a man who feels marooned
He’ll sit and wonder when he’ll die for it cannot come too soon.

©Joe Wilson – Thoughts of Old Age 2014

Pride

On By jovisgoesIn Children's, Fun, PoetryLeave a comment

Down in the jungle where nobody goes
An elephant trod on a lion’s toes
Which roared as loud as it could be
And that amused a chimpanzee
Then all the animals began to laugh
Except the holidaying giraffe
So the lion smiled and behaved with tact
And that’s called pride, and that’s a fact.

©JRW2014