Saturday 28 March 2015

Words of love and faith…



So tired I drift in long deep sleep
In thoughts of you that keep me warm
Inside a place of peaceful dreams
I find you in ethereal form.

And holding hands in sweet repose
Retelling words of love and faith
While wrapped in dream-like timeless mist
My arms enfold to keep you safe.

As wakefulness returns at dawn
No longer are you there to see
But opened eyes can now reveal
Your earthly form lies next to me.

Retelling words of love and faith
And wrapped in ageless passion we
With open eyes and open hearts
Who else but you could be with me.


©Joe Wilson – Words of love and faith…2015

Sunday 22 February 2015

For all eternity...

This reckless place that is my mind
That shows me much, though oft I’m blind
Has nonetheless led me to you
A glorious, amazing thing to do.
And that alone brings other pain
That I might not see you again
For as we age our body’s tire
I say ‘who cares’, I call me liar.
But side by side we love and chat
Laughing, remembering this and that
And in your tender arms in bliss
O Lord please let us go like this.

For all eternity we will stay
As lovers, as we are today.


©Joe Wilson – For all eternity…2015

Wednesday 28 January 2015

The Weeping Book...


He opened the binding of The Weeping Book
curiousity piqued, he needed to look
but how he wished he had never seen
the horrors therein that were so obscene.

The guilt of man along the passage of time
senseless slaughter without reason or rhyme
each page he turned ill had been done
by book possessed he ventured on.

The rape and pillage of those years before
children the victims of violent war
races were mixed, the one good thing
vicious hecklers of bigotry sing.

On and on through the pages now
the hurt caused pain behind his brow
saints and sinners all listed here
their sins for all to see quite clear.

He saw the vilest sins of history's pain
enslavement of those for other's gain
let loose man's done some terrible things
hope's voice is quelled by vicious stings.

The Weeping Book so perfect in name
from front to end it's full of shame
and he a priest of noble birth
would find before day's end, his worth.

No water passed his lips, nor food
his mind so troubled by soured mood
and then the page on which he gazed
revealed the future of a man gone crazed.

No change could he make to the book
transfixed at his poor fate he'd look
and as he pushed the dagger deep
as fate revealed he went to sleep.

The Weeping Book then slammed tight shut
till guilty man next came and put
his hand upon the tome's dark cover
then his sad fate he'd soon discover.





©Joe Wilson – The Weeping Book…2014

The wine bottle corks...


The night started slowly as we just sat and talked
We were waiting for our friends to arrive
We figured they’d be here by about half-past eight
As neither had finished work till gone five.

But the bottles of wine were lined up in rows
There were reds and roses, and there were whites
And as neither of our friends had arrived yet
Those bottles were full and clearly in our sights.

So we opened a red and a white one too
Mine a Shiraz, for I like a good red
My wife, well she started the white one
As a Pinot she much favours instead.

And the time it just got that much later
But our friends well they still hadn’t come
And as each of us was drinking the vino
Well it’s nice to raise a glass with a chum.

In the end our friends never did show up
It was next week not this, we were dorks
But we drank all the wine and enjoyed it
And now we’re just left with the corks.



©Joe Wilson – The wine bottle corks…2014
Author Notes

My granddaughter asked me if I could write a poem about a subject just chosen at random. She picked up a couple of corks from the previous night and this is the result. It is purely for fun…

See more at: http://allpoetry.com/poem/11438825-The-Wine-Bottle-Corks-by-Joe-Wilson#sthash.XZNI097X.dpuf

The Fall...


I fell from the top of a tall block of apartments.
How I remember my children growing
and the never-ending beauty of my wife
my boy and my girl, so full of knowing
my darling, the centre of my humble life.

But the ground rushes up at me as I fly down so fast.

I’ve loved the same woman for all of my time
contented and happy and passionate are we
I remember the night full of vodka and lime
when I asked my love if she would marry me.

And still the ground races up at me…

What joy we have had on our long journey here
with some pains that we’ve shared and endured
sadness has crept in and occasional fear
but we beat it all back and we still feel assured.

I hit the ground --- there is nowhere else to go…
Did I make it…did I not?
Was it a dream…was it not?

©Joe Wilson – The Fall…2015

Where once there were docks…


The docks are so barren now, where once there was such fare
there’s no more shipbuilding, the work’s just not there
and yet when I think, when I dream, I can hear
all the fine sailing vessels that have long since passed here.

The docks were so mighty, all the work, all the men
it’s sad now to think, we’ll not see them again
and yet, if you think of the sails and the ropes
we’ll carry on dreaming, we won’t lose our hopes.

The docks stand so quiet, no stevedores can be seen
no lightermen move barges through the channels in between
and yet if you dream, you can still hear the sails
it’s a heart-lifting sound, the excitement never fails.

©Joe Wilson – Where once there were docks…

To sail...


I’d love to sail o’er the powerful sea, to sail to the end of time
and meet amazing people and be thankful in every rime
the pull on the sails, the feel of the rope and the salty sea
and a good fast ship to sail in, would be enough for me.

I’d love to sail and never stop, see the world in its symmetry
and watch the mighty albatross as it’s shadow flies over me
as the pull from the sea and the wind drive me on
and the cobwebs and quietude of the normal are gone.

I’d love to sail round Equator’s girth, and sail right back again
and read accounts of sailing men, who sailed this way back then
for the pull of the sea and a driving wind, and with all the sails unfurled
would make me the happiest of men in our strange water-filled world.

©Joe Wilson – To sail… 2015

With the aid of a telescope…

I’d love to sail the seven seas, I’d sail them all with you
And we would have adventures and fill our lives with mirth we two
And the spray would catch our faces as we looked across the sea
And gulls and whales and dolphins, companions they would be.

I’d love to sail to Zanzibar, and to islands in the sun
And search for a tree called the Cinnabar, as we sail the seas for fun
And the spray would fill our senses, while the sky would be so blue
And the stars at night would guide us, as around the world we flew.

I’d love to sail round the southern capes, and the frozen world where penguins go
Where all the ice shines in the sun, and the land is covered in soft white snow
And the spray would strike our faces, but our hearts would be filled with hope
And with stars and a map to guide us, and the aid of our telescope.

©Joe Wilson – With the aid of a telescope…2015

Monday 5 January 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