She sits from where
the rainbow arches into the river.

As I eye her fishing net
she reads the question in my mind.

I'm waiting for three thirty
when tides begin to fall
but the shrimps can't go back.

When the bank begins to bare
she glides into the waves
till the water cools her *******.

I walk away knowing
she would bob up to the hour
the moon is upon her face
and she has made another morrow
from the river.

Sweeter than the song of a nightingale 
Gentler than the whisper of a spring wind
Quieter than the murmur of  summer  grass 
Softer than the symphony of hyacinths 

Hypnotic like the splash of blue seas
Tinkling like a stream that flows 
Mesmerizing like the cadence of rain 
Enchanting like the hush  of snow 

Like the faint breath of a scarlet dawn 
The rustle of clouds on a turquoise high 
A duet of  night and an ivory moon
A Capella of  stars in the sky

A hymn, a chant, a choir of angels 
Singing  on a rainbow of time 
Celestial is the serenade of love  
A tune and a note divine.

Of all the voices in my head,
yours is the only one
I keep hidden
under my bed...
and if you're wondering why
listen sometime to how you sound--
it's as if butterflies are speaking
as they fly
your voice soft as the flutter of their wings
as they go peacefully by
and whenever I get scared at night
I just think of you
and imagine that your voice
will surely get me through
til morning brings me back the light...

I sit satisfied
Smiling smugly
Ha!  I think.
Go ahead,
Just ask me anything you want to know
Go ahead.
I defy you!
Huh?
Whaddaya mean
Is it dark
Inside of
Snowballs?

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.

My world is not of the written word
It cannot be numbered
held captive on a so called page

My world is liquid
as sea , rain , snow or ice
It can be hot , cold , or entice

My world is cloudy
It thunders after it flashes light
My world is wrong , my world is right

There are no words that bind my life
I won't be delegated
to exist in the black on white

I will not be staved
by the limited sways
of the written words upon the page

The thing about spending almost a decade
In social isolation is you forget what's normal.
Imagine my shock when my friend casually pulls me close to her,
A half-hug, friendly embrace.
No context needed, because touches don't always hold
Some deep, meaningful intention.
Yet for the past almost a decade, that's been my reality.
How rare the hugs, how they only ever follow extreme sadness
Or loneliness, the desire for comfort and support.
How I can never reach out to touch someone
Unless I've done it a thousand times before,
And even then, it's an intentional act of love.
Every movement of every muscle is planned in advance,
To minimise the fearful, pounding beats of my heart.
For someone like me, where anxiety floods through all my veins,
I don't know the meaning of the word 'casual'.
And I don't know if I'll ever learn it.

you know your side
it's all one big violent game
we try to change the rules
we can't even decide
on the name.

the pictures from the ISS
make it very clear
to everybody with a TV screen
    or a computer

our earth is a globe
    and blue
        and finite
            and in a delicate balance

determined by more factors than even
our most sophisticated computer simulations
can so far figure out

it makes you wonder
why
of all people
those who surely own more than one TV screen
    and a couple of notebooks & cetera
are the ones who deny
that they are
   destroying our rain forests
   polluting our rivers and seas
   poisoning our environment
   ruining our lives
   deadening our minds

maybe
    if they dare to set forth
    even a step or two
    from their isolated gated  habitats
    and walk in the real world
    they have created
they are able to begin
to understand