A letter knocks
Knuckled to drop
Conversations features
Reservations deterred
Words so sincere as they read
“At Todi in Umbria, St Illuminata, ******”

She is the one,
A bearer of light
Holding a spear on one hand
Whilst the torch beams the other
She is the one,
A past patron
Holding a script on one hand
Whilst a caution teams the other
She is the one,
Knowing the stormy seas
In between the islands that separate
She is one,
Now an angel with a message
an illumination from the passage
She is the one
The buried meaning in the rumble
Married to the whispering mumble

St Illuminata, the ******
In **** citing recitals
St Illuminata, the saint
In moon a might accidental
St Illuminata, the ******
In a fresco of expressions
St Illuminata, the saint
A disciplined follower

St Illuminata, St Illuminata
Where is the battle
The conflict that never wins
St Illuminata, St Illuminata
The martyr of their holy causes
A magician of confusion
Rolled in the wind of ails
Spreading a blessing of demise
To get attention of his rise
The exploded land mines
Inside the grieve and heaves
Within the signposted graves
The boats that set only to sink
As the gunshots destroy
The ploy on the forts
All the sides of convictions
Inconvenient progressions
St Illuminata, in a convent

Where do they go
Those who vanish from the face of the earth?
Do they find peace?

Can a broken heart be mend there?
Does wretchedness end or stick
Do they find new beginnings?

I can die for a fresh start
But one can never be sure
So I keep having these thoughts...

Stark raving mad her sadness
At having to please and oblige others
In matters of wanting to do
In wanting to write
Or be an author
It's absurd to think of another
Let no one ask their neighbour

"I want to hear the words breathe
Their breath here my soul to live
Further on than where it should
Let my ink flow till I feel no more
Dusky skies peek out the door
Shadows wane past evening tide
Darkness floods and still I write"

I'll kiss you until your heart pounds,
clenches,
         throbs,
pumping embers through your veins until every capillary glows.

I'll kiss you 'til there is nothing but white hot pain
melting your lips,
         cauterizing your wounds,
                       until every hole in your heart is sealed.

And your ashes spell out my name.

And  when  his  usefulness  had  gone.
They  just  cast  him  aside.
And  on  the  final  downhill.
He  began  to  slide.

Rejected  after  all  his  work.
Visions  now  all  gone.
He  knew  full  well  his  time  was  near.
He  knew  he  had  not  long.

As  an  old  man  disillusioned.
And  weary  from  his  fight.
He  spent  in  sad  remembrance.
His  final  lonely  night.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.

Passed  a  neglected  garden  of  late.
It  seemed  in  quite  a ­­ sorry  state.
Some  men  came  to  make  some  notes.
But  seem­ed  to  give  it  little  thought.
Up  on  high  the  grasses  gr­ow.
Beneath  the  windows  row  by  row.
The  other  plants  just­ ­ cry  with  pain.
I  guess  we'll  never  grow  again.
They  ha­ve­  taken  up  our  space  on  the  ground
Like  an  advancing  ­army  I'll  be  bound.
They  are  taking  our  water  Oh  my.
As ­ they  journey  to  the  sky.
Perhaps  it  soon will  be  resolved.­
And  peace  will  reign.
Once again

Keith  Wilson    Windermere.  UK.  2016­.

Thanks  everyone  for  all  your  support.
I  cannot  keep  up  with  all  the
notifications.
It,s  truly  wonderful.
Thanks  very  much  again..

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.