His last breath…


A breath is being taken that’s so shallow
No sound the breathing now makes
The fear of death lurking in the shadows
Immerses the souls in fearful quakes.
For the breathing of man is a precious gift
Yet one taken as a right by this sinner
But the spectre in the shadows is yet waiting
As the rasping sound of death grows ever thinner.

A tear now slowly falls from the dying man’s eye
It lands with a mighty clap upon his pillow
For the man is in such pain while he is living
Yet he knows there’s more to come at where he’ll  go.
For not a word of simple kindness did he ever utter
A cruelty to fellow-men was all he’d show
And he never gave but a thought to how we got here
But down there, it’s safe to say, he’ll surely know.

©Joe Wilson – His last breath…2015


I see the lights of distant towns
yet hear the noise of happy sounds
while sitting, seeing in my cave
in total silence
……….…..like the grave.

My cave’s a room
within a house
where I sit quietly
….………..as a mouse.

I cannot think
as thought is gone
from brain which stopped
……..…….it can’t go on.

And so to dust
my body goes
reduced by maggots
……………and fed to the crows.

©Joe Wilson – Desolation…2015

The winter struggle…

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


Holding on tight…



blossoms in the rain


It’s two in the morning in this New Year’s Day poem
he’s cold-sober and hopeful for a good new year’s start
just six months ago he’d almost lost his way home
but she’d found him and led him back to her heart.

It’s an amazing thing, this love, he now knew
alone he was lost like an empty tin can
but this woman in his life was amazing too
she was vital to this mere foolish man.

He gazed across now at her so lovely face
and whispered “I love you,” she smiled. “I know.”
he isn’t so much feeling the New Year’s embrace
as holding on tight and letting the old one just go.

©Joe Wilson – Holding on tight… 2014

Tender is the heart…

Artwork by NiePytajONic
Tender is the heart that breaks at night
when hurt will come and cause such ache
and sleep will never come to stop
the tears that fill the deep dark lake.

A kindly word could change things
but so rarely is it heard
it would show the pain is understood
but she never hears a word.

He lies there too in his own thoughts
not beginning to understand
they loved each so much one time
their life now is not as was planned.

But how very different it could have been
if only they had both spoken
it had only needed some kindness
and now both their hearts are broken.

Tender is the heart at night that loves
as it searches for its soul-mate
it needs to feel that it is cherished
before it suddenly gets too late.

Tender is the lonely heart
tender the lonely soul
pride can make you drift apart
but your heart will bear the toll.


©Joe Wilson – Tender is the heart…2014

Wot No Burglars!!

Where’s the dog, where’s the dog?
There are burglars in the house
But the dog sleeps oh so quietly
As quietly as a mouse.

And so the husband, he takes charge
It’s the middle of the night
Reluctantly creeping down the stairs
He’s our hero in full – fright.

Of course – there was nobody there
It was one of those ‘sounds in the night’
And our hero couldn’t have seen him
He’d forgotten to turn on the light.

The hero thus returns to bed
Not to welcoming open arms
His wife has drifted back to sleep
Oblivious to his charms.

Oh well he thinks as he gets in bed
And then he falls himself to sleep
Meanwhile below, the hidden thief
Leaves for his home with swag to keep.


Schools Out

Up we go, up the stairs
To sleep or dream or play with bears
Under cover with ‘secret’ lamps
Beds turn into night time camps
Where special messages are passed about
“Only in whispers, you mustn’t shout.”
’cause we’re asleep our parents think
Our tired red eyes are on the brink…

Then “wake up children, time to go,
one more day at school you know.”
Off we race to get to class
To take some tests we hope to pass
Then running home at end of day
Homework, tea, and then we play
amazing games in the weekends
having fun with all our friends.


My Aunt’s Cat

He often wanders down the street
And depending on his mood
He’ll lie right down and take the sun
He sleeps or plays, he’ll walk or run.

Nothing seems beyond his reach
There’s very little you could teach
He gets in places others can’t
He’s often stroked by my old aunt.

He likes to curl up by my aunt’s side
Purring shows he’s satisfied
He is indeed a handsome cat
If he could talk he’d tell you that.

Sometimes he’ll bring a mouse indoors
Playing with it with his paws
Aunt’ll chase him out again
My aunt, she is the mouse’s friend.

Who would own such a naughty cat
Not those next door, we all know that
For they’ve a dog with a long, long tail
And cat just bites it without fail.

Dog chases cat, aunt chases dog
Around the garden they all jog
That’s when the cat jumps on the fence
He always wins – he’s too much sense.

For now we’ll leave him and my aunt
He’s fed and there’s nothing he will want
They’re both asleep right by the fire
It’s late and time old cats retire.