Here you can read some poems from Joe’s books, and at the bottom of the page there are some links to external sites that feature Joe’s work.
The Day I Turned Into a Bear
There were funny looks at the station, and
gasps as I clambered onto the train.
I was pleased to secure a double seat,
and that nobody checked my ticket.
I had a perfectly valid one,
and don’t know of any rules that say
you can’t have bears on a train, just
I don’t like to cause any trouble.
At work we agreed it was probably best
if I didn’t see any customers, so
I spent the day answering emails,
making the tea and filing.
I took a longer than usual lunch,
which gave me time to go to the woods,
find a few berries and plants to eat,
and attend to some personal business.
By the time I got to Sainsbury’s, I
was getting used to being a bear.
With a satisfied growl I flipped a fish
out of the fridge compartment.
The queue dispersed. I said I didn’t
need a bag, or help with packing,
thanked the cashier for their help, carried
my dinner home in my teeth.
I hadn’t intended to go to the pub,
but there was nothing on television,
nothing that would appeal to bears,
so I dropped in for a quick one.
I knew exactly what to expect.
Everyone there was taking the piss.
I lost count of the number of times
I heard the “long paws” joke.
In the morning I was relieved to find
that I was no longer a bear, but
my porridge was far too cold, and I had
a very sore head.
Killing the Piano
(from Killing the Piano)
We tried to save you with small ads.
Free to good home, must collect
but nobody called.
We tried schools and churches,
community centres,
but none were prepared to accommodate you.
No room for the past,
no use for tradition,
and each back turned
was another key condemned.
Once we dragged you a hundred miles north,
and later a hundred back,
my faithful friend as I learnt how to play,
from Three Blind Mice
to Für Elise and the Nut Rocker.
But for years you stood,
lid down, barely touched,
except by the clumsy fists of children,
bashing a blind fortissimo,
untroubled by rhythm or melody,
unaware that every good boy deserves favour.
For years you stood,
an obstacle,
an inconvenience,
silently slipping out of tune.
It fell to me to strike the killing blow,
consign you to the fate we’d tried to swerve.
Behind the crack of splintering walnut
I could hear a heart
breaking.
Cathedrals
(from The Taking Part)
There’s something in the angles,
those webs of knitted steel.
How many million voices have been
captured in that silk?
How many cries of victory,
frustration and despair have
risen from these terraces,
the edges of these flip-down seats,
to echo in the rafters
long after we are dead?
Have you ever been alone in a cathedral?
Just you, and all history’s ghosts.
Joe’s work has been published in many online magazines, and you can read some of his poems and short stories here. These links are to external sites and will open in a new browser tab.
Poetry
The Day I Turned Into a Bear at Atrium.
Glastonbury, Parts 1 & 2 at The Poetry Village.
Portugal 3, Spain 3 and The Town That Was Murdered at Celebrating Change.
Seeing Death at Green Ink Poetry.
Revolution 78 at The Poetry Village.
Did You Dream of Fire? at I Am Not a Silent Poet.
Nana’s House at Atrium.
Owl & Pussycat v.62 at The Poetry Village.
Fiction
You Are Assessed for Repairs at Ellipsis Zine.
An Appointment on BBC Radio Leeds (audio).
Joe Williams: Writer, Poet, Performer 