A lone tree stands out
Against the stormy sky

On the far side of
The lawn in our garden

Surrounded by snowdrops
Quite a pretty picture!

Keith Wilson March 2017

the night in which
the dead come alive for a while

only to be frightened
right back to death
by the terrible masks and pumpkins
of the living

One question remains under the cover of this night
Will I bow down or will I fight?
Submission garuntees a place to stay
But rebellion lets me live my own way

Debate isn't about scoring a win
Or coercing an enemy into giving in
But getting fellow humans to find what we hold in common

Everywhere I go
Everybody wants to know
"Where's the lady"
They all ask
I answer, hiding behind a mask
Of smiles and laughs,
And say to them:
"She's gone, she won't be back again;
I don't care"
And shrug my shoulders.
But now my life is so much colder
I walk alone, the crowded streets
And tell my tale to friends I meet
Then I turn, walk on with the truth
With tear-filled eyes
I think of you

Another  day  is  over.
Another  day  is  done.
This  week  went  past  so  quickly.
This  week  went  by  so  fast.
My  life  has  gone  so  quickly.
Old  men  told  me  so.
And  now  I  tell  the  young  men.
That  life  to  quickly  goes.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.

Mine eyes seek the treasure of peace to behold

It's Thor, God of war

That your arms enfold.

Symphonies are written in honour of peace

As well as war.

You can stop fighting now

Just stop.

Accept the deliverance of olive branches

And let your rage subside

Gently as the falling of dove feathers.

Your enemies have died

Yet you battle on

With nights spent alone

Excluding all

Except the tempest in your mind.

Alas until you follow the way of peace

The storm you hold will abide, not cease

And as Tolstoy said

"The two most powerful warriors

  Are patience and time"

Each of which you'll find

Are mine.