Lauds…(the 4th morning)

Spring sunshine, wondrous, here at last
Our gloomy outlook we now cast
In gratitude, give thanks.

As new young life now pushes through
In life as always, much to do
In gratitude, give thanks.

Our gloomy outlook we now cast
Are days of Winter now just past
In gratitude, give thanks.

In life as always, much to do
Lord, hear such praise they give to You
In gratitude, give thanks.

Are days of Winter now just past
As soon we shall give thanks, and fast
In gratitude, give thanks.

The delicate balance of Springtime flowers
That one could just enjoy for hours
In gratitude, give thanks.

As soon we shall give thanks, and fast
Spring sunshine, wondrous, here at last
In gratitude, give thanks.

©Joe Wilson – Lauds…(the 4th morning)…2016

A winter walk…

Coated horse in a winter field

The winter tang from fresh wet bark
Brushes senses gentle as I walk by
Across the dew-wet meadow
And over the aged and rotting stile.

A cheeky fox trots swiftly over the way
His keen eye never leaves my sight
He sidles through the hedgerow
I think no food he caught last night.

I hear the screech of hawks nearby
Some little creature met his match
And though it’s sad when they get caught
The kestrels hover over this patch.

Horses whinny in the field nearby
As they shuffle in the cold damp grass
One of them leans across the fence to me
So I stop and stroke her head as I pass.

Steam rises up from her white wet nose
There’s such pride in her noble face
And she’s not too cold with the near high hedge
And the winter coat tied in place.

The sun starts to rise now over the fields
And a warm day’s expected, which is fine
I believe it’s the greatest start to the day
Taking walks within Nature’s design.

©Joe Wilson – A winter walk…2016

My beloved and my country…

O road take me back to my country home
Speed me quick for my heart missed it so
For wealth and good fortune I foolishly roam
Now home-bound I once again go.
To the trees and blossom of Springtime
Even to the bare twigs of Fall
Yet even to the frost of a cold Winter’s rime
In the country I feel I am all.

Once I travelled o’er great oceans deep
I saw beautiful skies so bright blue
Yet I dreamt of you whenever I’d sleep
In countryside of lovely green hue.
For much as I love the hill and the ride
And all of the beauty found there
If I couldn’t sense you here by my side
Such bounty would just seem so bare.

So over great oceans I travel once more
I’m heading to you darling dear
My heart it is calling to one I adore
It beats faster as home draws me near.
O darling I can’t bear to leave you again
This journey is the last I’ll pursue
In the country with you, my very best friend
We will live under our sky of blue.

And on days perhaps spent in woods near the lake
Watching woodpeckers , jays and the brambling
We’ll sit by the lake with a picnic we’ll take
Watching lambs in the fields as they’re gambolling.
Our hearts will be full and so satisfied
We’ll walk hand-in-hand by the shore
We’ll play ducks and drakes and watch the stones glide
Who could ever want anything more.

At night our arms each other enfold
We’d lie in passionate embrace
Our love we’d give in manner so bold
And I’d watch your beautiful face.
I’d wonder how lucky a man such as I
Could ever have been so well blessed
Such thoughts would make me silently cry
As we lie in our cottage now at rest.

©Joe Wilson – My beloved and my country…2015

Marching forwards in love and in life…(Acrostic)

Marching forwards in love and in life
As snowdrop and crocus cover Spring earth
Raw though the wind, as Winter still lingers
Chapping the faces exposed to its wrath.
Hope springs eternal as I sit by the hearth
Indoors the warmth of a nice open fire
Nicely chopped logs all stacked by a scuttle
Glorious flames up the chimney rise higher.

Flames soporific and soon I am sleeping
Out like a light from the heat of the fire
Running in dreams and thinking of roses
Wrapped in a beautiful paper display.
All for the lady who loves me forever
Roses the flowers from my heart every day
Dreams full of happy, and our lovely children
Slight sadness now as they make their own way.

It’s many years now and our love we have found
No more needs the blankets we laid on the ground.

Living a life with one who inspires you
Overly blessed like the Spring that now hails
Verdant the grass round the bench in the garden
Each night during Summers we tell lover’s tales.

And as we enter our twilight of living
Not for a second our passion shall wane
Drawn to each other, a one made from twain.

Isn’t it wondrous when love makes hearts bind
Never a doubt in your passion-filled mind.

Letters we’ve written of love for each other
Ink that was written, but not by a sage
Finally we slip into hot-chocolate evenings
Enjoying the warmth as we turn the next page.

©Joe Wilson – Marching forwards in love and in life…2015 (Acrostic)

Seasonal Acrostic…



 Winter has dumped her bounty upon us again
 In snow-covered landscapes which to some are a pain
‘Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible’
Tractors pulling cars and more patients in hospital
Eventually it thaws and it all goes quite hoary
Returning our pothole-filled roads in all of their glory.

Spring is on its way though, so be of good cheer
Plants that were hidden now start to appear
Remember resolutions you made at New Year
In front of your friends who’ll remind you I fear
Now get on your bike as you promised you’d do
Get fitter this year, it’s a good thing to do.

Summer comes in with a rush of bright colour
Up comes the grass and the mower bag gets fuller
Mimosa and marigolds are out in full show
Mild summer breezes are starting to blow
Even as the nights start to draw in again
Red skies at night hold off much of the rain.

Autumn arrives with the wind through the trees
Unsticking leaves that have held on with ease
Taking them all on a trip through the air
Upstart that it is drops some here and some there
Many leaves are golden, others are bright red
Now dying back ready for winter instead.


©Joe Wilson – Seasonal Acrostic…2015

The trawlerman’s wife & the 1953 spring-tide disaster…

Mablethorpe 2 Feb 1953


A little dot of light in the distance
Signalled that they were on their way home
She was waiting at her own insistence
As the trawler drew closer through the foam.

Her man had taken another man’s place
And he sailed with yesterday’s tide
But their baby was due in only three days
She wanted him back on dry land by her side.

It caused her to reflect on her father
He’d been lost in the’53 spring tide
That had raced down the east coast of England
Brushing trawlers and ferries to one side.

They called it ‘The Big Flood’, it was really that bad
It happened unexpectedly
Two and a half thousand, including her dad
Were drowned and swallowed by the sea.

January thirty-first into February one
The storm raged like no other before
Then it turned out to sea and was suddenly gone
Leaving death and devastation in it’s maw.

The trawler was pulled into the harbour
And her husband jumped the jetty and ran
He took her into his arms and she worried no more
He was home, he was safe, and her man.


©Joe Wilson – The trawlerman’s wife & the 1953 spring-tide disaster…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


His last words (25 December 1914)…

…a lonely grave…



Scarred from the relentless passage of time
pitted with acid rain and covered with grime
forgotten by those who oft pass it by
gazed rarely upon by anyone’s eye.

A proud little monument in a faraway  field
with now faded words and a family shield
his nation had called and he’d gone off to war
though he and his friends didn’t really know what for.

And if you should wander and wonder at it
you’ll probably feel as if you have been hit
by the words that you see that are writ thereupon
“It is with such sadness that I bury my son.”

The last words they had, came back home in a letter
“It can’t go on Father, it has to get better
the killing is awful, they’re young men much like us
Please kiss dearest Mother, and a Merry Christmas.


©Joe Wilson – His last words (25 December 1914)… 2014

November morning…



Golden skies greet the land
as night throws off its mantle
dawn slowly emerges from the shadows
to welcome the new day so gentle
trees sway in the soft breeze
while birds chatter as they wake
to the bright sunshine that is
a beautiful warm November day.
As the day moves on the blue tits fly
having taken their daily fill of nuts and seeds
but feeders, still bearing their bounty,
are soon fallen upon in frenzied melee
by sparrows and starlings, a riotous sight,
till soon they too will fly away
at the start of evening dusk display.
All day long they constantly chatter.
All day long they feed.
All day long we are blessed by their company,
and thus we are always grateful.

©Joe Wilson – November morning… 2014