I wrote this poem for the monthly meeting of the Keighley Library Poetry Group. As their name suggests, they are a Real World group of poets and most of them have little or no online prescence. The theme this month was Wonder, which was also the theme for National Poetry Day. The first three lines of stanza 2 became part of my poem Occasions to Tear Up – which I posted earlier, here… I would say that Joni Mitchell’s Shine was definitely an influence on this, and other poems of mine…
I wonder at the world
at the state we have gotten into
wonder polluters and their enabling
politicians can live with themselves
wonder what their grandchildren
will make of their legacy
Wonder at the wonder
in a newborn’s eyes
at the questioning of the future
in the eyes of the soon to depart
whether a lifetime of belief
or disbelief will soon be vindicated
Wonder at young love and at
those who make it through decades
or find love in their seventies
fresh wonder blossoming
wondering how one love is sufficient for some
and others can never garner enough
Wonder at the fishermen who risk their lives
to put food on our tables
and at the machines that cut trees
with less risk to the lumberjack
the miners ever endangered
in the deeps underground
Wonder at the artist who sees
the world differently and the poet
who finds new word orders
to describe the world order
from lyrical nature
to twisted destruction
Wonder at the gardeners
who plant with faith that each new
Spring will be kind to their crop
and the Truffle pigs who do not
fear the forest fire but live to sniff out
treasure beneath the next tree
Wonder if we will develop the tools
to see an asteroid coming in time
to cling to our loved ones
wonder whether life started
in the hell of deep-sea gas vents
before working its way up to the light
Wonder if there are others out there
swinging round other stars too far
to ever have the chance of meeting us
wonder if the speed of light is the limit
or wormholes can send us across the galaxy
like cash in Pneumatic Tube Transports
Wonder if global warming
will fry the world or counterintuitively
tip us into the next ice age
wonder whether to stock up on
woolly jerseys and snowshoes
or buy shares in sunscreen
Will I die in my sleep
at a ripe old age
in possession of all my marbles
or be crushed on a Bradford road
by a road raging, queue jumping
petrolhead – I wonder…
Wonder how Joni Mitchell
knew when enough was enough
when she wrote Shine…
© Andrew Wilson, 2026