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She slept still on the cold bed
Her fragile frame was forever fixed
The sullen smile on her frown face
Crowned her earthly end
An emblem of victory gained in demise

The somberness of the ominous knell
Ushered in the undertaker for his task
To amass his masters latest loot
Fallen along the weary long way
A rose bruised before its bloom

The lamentations of the little lass
The groan of the grey gentleman
The solemn sympathy of a stranger
The clergy’s confession of her circumstances
All a label of a life led in liaison

The strongly sealed sepulcher
Bears the remains of her mortality
The epitaph on it concise as her life
A testament of her times to lingering legs
On rock engraved on hearts chronicled forever

The worms that merry on corpses
Shall soon party for their spoil
That skin so tender shall decay
From this world she carried eternal hope
And though she is dead she shall live.
it is an elegy written in memory of a childhood friend who died at a tender age.
When I was two years old
The sun was just ball of fire that in the sky rolled
The full moon was a round stone in the dark sky
I knew mum and dad would never say bye
The kindergarten teacher taught kids were bought
Many of our favorite heroes were mostly cops
Every guy behind bars was a dangerous criminal
And what the minister stood for was biblical
All who went to church had no stain
Friends would never cause us pain
We enjoyed playing with dirt
Many times fell from tree and were hurt
We knew our leaders would bring peace
And our childhood fancies would never cease

Today with radiance I turned twenty and two
Our nearest star was full of radiance too
The spring night was lit with moon rays
Mom and dad could not agree so they parted ways
My friend had a baby girl with his bride
And our cops executed law according to tribe
The civil right activist was wrongfully convicted
The ministers no longer care for those afflicted
My pagan neighbor and parishioners are all the same
And for my latest pains my friends are mostly to blame
The doctor said dirt was the cause of my diseases
And I had to avoid it to reduce my medical fees
Our politicians masterminded our newest wars
And adulthood came early with too many chores
Wrote this on my twenty second birthday. How I view the world had greatly changed how I used to see it when I was just two years old
I know not where I shall find love
By the foots of the mountain or on the plains of clove
Where the oak trees shed their green blades on the brown grass
Perchance by the deserted road where lays the heap of trash

I know not when I shall find love
During spring when April showers bring may flowers
When wintry chilling cold bites the white earth
When the woods glow of amber in the hearth

I know not how I will find love
Through divine appointment or by strove
Whether from a recent friend or a foe of past days
May be from stranger met by labyrithine ways

I know not why I will find love
Whether possessed passions will cause me to move
To seek the friendship of some lovely lass
May be just another ritual of life to pass

Whether in known or unknown places
Whether in familiar or strange faces
Whether time is constant or flies like a dove
I one day shall find love
Sometimes I wonder

if I even survived
my childhood.

Maybe some part of me
is sleeping
up on the hill.

One of those
Nightmares
That I couldn't escape
Carried me off
In its jaws

and so maybe
I am planted.
Looking down
At all the people
I can't remember.

I hope that I am ashes.
I never wanted a stone.
in some ways, i wish to forget you.
to let go of how your words hurt so much inside my heart,
how you left me to myself;
                                                 alone.
in other ways, i can’t stop trying to remember
the times we had - the hopes, dreams, thoughts whispered to each other.
the hope of a better place and time, where we could be together, as one.

i cannot forget you.
but i will always hold close the things i choose to remember:
our juvenile, silly promises,
rather than the lost hopes that will always remain inside my heart.
dear love, you’re a liar
and nothing you’ve told me has been true
you’ve told me silly things,
oh, pretty things, too.

blue, blue, blue
that’s what i see when i think of you
i see blue skies and blue hearts -
i see the night, the early morning, the wishing-washing warning.

“and when we both look at the moon at exactly 11:52,
i’ll finally be next to you,
no longer separated by distance, but both seeing the same sight,
together, together, in the blue, blue night.”

oh love, you’re like art - you’re smart, in such ways i do not know.
but love, you’re a liar
and for you, i refuse to grow tired
anymore.
i talk to my shadow, for he is my friend.
i walk with my shadow; he's there till the end.
i spoke to him the things i reveal to no one else,
the silly little secrets that no one ever tells.

truly, what could i say?
he was the one that never went away.
he was with me on the treetops, under the light of the moon,
through the clashing and smashing, that sad afternoon.
he's the friend i cried to when i had no other -
no sister, no brother, no father, no mother.

"but i loved them wholeheartedly,"
that's what i'd say,
yet my friends did not love me in the very same way.
thank you, dear shadow, for being with me.
you, unlike the others, are not such an absentee.
you were a clock always ticking and
the beat of your heart a metronome
you were a bomb and
i did not know when you might burst.
you were combustible
an incendiary grenade
and i was the gasoline
to your wildfires.

you were at war with the world
your mind a battleground
and i cried when you asked me
whether i wondered if life was worth living
perhaps because
i myself did not know

when i went to bed at three in the morning
i still woke up in the middle of the night
i dreamt my heart had burst open, ripped at its seams
still beating faster than death could seize our time on this earth
i asked you why it was that
life is this way

you were an hourglass
trying make to time stand still.
and while i went to every corner of the world
to buy each and every clock that existed,
still, i did not know how to stop it for you.
i did not know how to save a life
when i could not live my own
correctly.

you were a ticking time bomb,
ready to explode;
and i could not clip the wires
of your mind.
i haven’t said a word in fifty-three years
no, i told not a soul what i felt
i crumbled dreams like paper notes and
when i spoke i felt my own heart melt.

while you so declared your own ravaging fancies,
shouted like a song
a voice of purity, clear as glass
somehow, you were always wrong.

no, i am not bold, externally;
though my thoughts roared so loudly in my head
and when i put my words on paper
i could say what i wanted to be said.
my thoughts were so much louder than my words that
my head was almost deafened by their sound

perhaps i’d rather dwell in my imagined tales
than the sweet syllables i had almost found.
i dreamed, like you, to speak so clearly,
so greatly, and with such confidence;
but i mumbled, and so sillily
slurred vowels into consonants.
i dwelled in mere introversion so much that
when i opened my mouth to speak
i was held in great aversion, complete and utter disconcertion
and i could not tell you why.

indeed, i may be full of anxieties
but truly it did not matter to me, because
alone is not lonely
alone is not lonely
and i am not alone.
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.
Some revisons
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