Lady said
"Shut up about the storm
else you'll be in one"
Charming, I thought

Kathleen  and  I  went  up  the  hill.
In  the  boisterous  wind  nothing  still.
Bashing,  Crashing,  all  around.
And  water  flooding  near  town.
The  wind  just  took  us  along  at  pace.
The  lashing  rain  bit  into  your  face.
As  we  reached  the  sodden  town.
Plant  pots  flying  all  around.
Old  men  sighing,  children  crying.
The  moaning  wind  was  all  around.
We  went  for  coffee  to  escape.
And  left  the  others  to  their  fate.
Cats  in  trances,  flying  branches.
Water  seeping, water  creeping.
So  we  got  a  taxi  home.
Thank  God.

What  a  strange  day.
This  morning  was  dark,
damp  and  foggy.
A  real  winter  morn.

This  afternoon  it's  cleared  up.
The  sun  has  come  out.
And  it's  quite  springlike.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.

It's been a strange week
Hospitals and birthday parties
What a contrast
I hope for a quiet week next week
but not too quiet

The last day of summer
I'm looking forward to autumn

I  walk  slowly  down  the  winding  path
of  my  lovely  summer  garden.

I  admire  the  blushing  roses
kissed  by  the  overnight  rain.

The  air  is  warmed
by  the  bright-faced  sun.

Many  bright  fragrant  blossoms
bloom  beneath  the  orchard  wall.

The  sun  flickers  through  the  fruit  trees
making  pretty  patterns  on  the  mown  grass.

I  then  sit  quietly
where  the  sun  burns  you  a  deep  brown.

Yes,  summer  is  wonderful
but  alas  it's  soon  gone.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK  2016.

The  first  signs  of  autumn
are  appearing  this  morning.

The­  sky  is  a  paler  blue
with  ominous  dark  clouds  all  aroun­d.

The  birds  are  much  quieter  too.
although  I  did  hear  ­a  pair  of  mallard  ducks  crying  out.

The fleeting sun across the lawn
Is quite pleasant

The  Invasion  of  house  flies
seem  to  have  subside­d.


Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.

I stand in the splendour
Of my summer garden
The scent of honeysuckle wafting
Across in the evening breeze
The late sun casting shadows
Across the ivy-clad wall
Hydrangeos and roses appear
To steal the show
But many other flowers
Are staking their claim
As storm clouds gather
An eerie feel descends
A feeling of peace and tranquility
Now reigns
As rain begins to fall

Keith   Wilson   Birthwaite Flats

Another hot day
becoming brutal
Everyone is
praying
for rain

The sun set beautiful
Red and orange
Mixed across the sky

Keith Wilson April 2017

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.

Surgery soon they say
Will I have to pay?
Been paying for a lifetime
to live another day
Could be next month or later
Eighteen weeks or less
they say

(11 May 1934 -November 2022)

Mister Wilson, salt of the earth
a peaceful poet, embarks on rebirth
His charm, his wit, his humble wisdom
We honour now with candle lit
A gardener of words and of the land
May he be led lovingly by the hand
to a place full of foxes and robins
with trees, flowers, and crystal clear waters
May he find there all he loves dearly
As we celebrate his life and see his heart more clearly
Sweet dreams to our dear friend
You are in our hearts, our love we send
❤

A large sycamore
stands tall
like a guardsman
on parade

Watching celestial
syzygy
drinking my glass of lilt
Coins in my pocket
Still feeling innocent

Welcome to Tara and Bernie
my pair of German Shepherd puppies

They are brother and sister
which is quite nice

They are rather large puppies
for eighteen months old

Bernie is 'laid-back', nothing bothers him
He has paws like a tiger

Tara is always in trouble, into everything
She chewed Bernie's bed, poor lad had nowhere to sleep

Sometimes they are a couple of witches
but I wouldn't be without them

I love them to bits

Thanks  for  supporting  Snowdrops.
I  only  did  a  short  one.
Because  I was  feeling  off  color.
Many  thanks  again.

Keith  Wilson. .  Windermere.  UK  2017.

Easter  is  dead  and  gone  once  again.
The  pace  eggs  have  been  rolled.
And  a  lot  eaten,  I  suspect.
The  Easter  bunnies  are  back  
In  there  hutches.
The  weather  has  been  poor,
dull  and  wet.
But  all  passed  peacefully.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.

The  large  Ash  tree  in  my  garden.
I  thought  it  was  dead.
I  told  everyone  it  was  dead.
Now  It's  suddenly  sprang  to  life.
Very  late  though  nearly  end  of  May.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.

The Azalias
have been wonderful
this year
They don't like it too hot

The Birthwaite Gardeners


The Birthwaite gardeners
are at it again
They work so hard
they look in pain
They have hung some bags
to protect their seeds
They don't mind the birds
taking the weeds
They dig by night
they dig by day
As they go along
their merry way


Keith Wilson     July 2017

He  stays  with  us  in  winter  storms
And  when  the  garden's  bleak
He  hops  around  in  sleet  and  hail
Appearing  pale  and  weak.

But  once  the  days  begin  to  lengthen
And  the  worst  of  winter's  gone
He  perches  high  up  in  a  tree
And  begins  his  joyful  song.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.

I can't fathom out
why the spine of the book
has gone rotten
in the middle pages

Perhaps my wife, Grace
can help
when she has finished the orange
she is eating

The  Canal  stands  out  in
early  morning  splendour.
Freshly  painted  small  boats
Line  up  in  the  early  morning  sun.

Mallards  duck  and  dive
Across  on  the  far  side.
The  white  clad  houses  reflect
In  the  water  in  mirror  fashion.

The  Red  of  the  boathouse  stands
out  against  the  Green  of  the
summer  dressed  trees.

Yes,  sometimes  it's  good
to  be  alive.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.

The  cherry  blossom  is
beautiful  this  year.

Thick  pink  clumps  covering
all  the  trees.

Should  stay  nice  for  awhile
If  the  weather  remains  calm.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK  2016.

A creeper once was planted,
On a cold North-facing wall,
The gardener wanted her to spread,
To cover the bricks and all.

In the weeks that followed,
She strove her best to grow,
But the sun was so unkindly
And the frost so cruel so.

Alas, one day a child at play
Broke off her slender stem.
'It's no use' she cried
'I'll never grow again.'

But she was so courageous,
A brave, hidden spirit she found
And started sending up new shoots,
Directly from the ground.

One day she got her just rewards,
For all her courage and strife,
The gardener came and transplanted her,
To start a brand-new life.

Now on a warm, South-facing wall,
Where the sun kissed her all day
And the gentle breeze caressed her,
She grew and grew away.

She grew so strong and beautiful
And when the tale is told.
Her crown of joy was autumn,
With her leaves tinged red and gold.

Keith Wilson . Windermere  UK  2017.

The  daises  within  the  grass  are  sleeping.
While  slight  fr­osts  up  above  are  seeping .

They  are  waiting  for  the  new  born  sun.
Then  they  will­  arise  and  have  some  fun.

They  shine  and sparkle  all  day  long.
Till  the  departing  sun  has  gone.

A­s  the  day  has  run  its  course.
They  settle  down  without  ­remorse.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2017.

I saw the deer early morning
in our communal garden
Tried to get some photos
But she kept disappearing
into the shady glen of the large trees
She seemed to come from the park
along the busy main road

The  Deluge

Heavy  thundery  rain
Cascading  down  from  the  heavens.

The  sheer  volume  of  water
Causing  a  sinister  mist  across  the  rooftops.

A  waterfall  suddenly  fell
In  front  of  my  window.

The  gutters  unable  to  cope.

For  a  few  moments
It  felt  like  the  end  of  the  world.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.

John
was a professional
pick-pocket
locally known as 'The Dip'
He frequented
commuter trains
and outside markets
to ply his trade:
"Successful morning today
"I collected two-hundred pounds
and now I'm on my way"

People keep telling me
to get a stick
I don't want one stick
or two sticks
I'd rather fall over
and start again

There is a plague
of wasps
this summer

They are everywhere
Mind what you eat
you could get stung

I don't like them
coming in
my flat

There,s  not  many  upsets
in  the  FA  cup  these  days.

Because  the  playing  area,s  
are  in  prime  condition.

In  the  old  days  they  played
on  mud  bath,s  which  were
a  great  leveler  in  skill.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.

Anxiety knocks you for six
can't function when it strikes
I'm looking for a fix
for another fight

Drains  overflowing.
Manholes  spouting.
Water  bubbling.
Rising  and  leaping.
Through  front  doors.
Swelling  and  sweeping..
Th en  turning  and  twisting.
All  through  the  house.
Furniture  ruined.
Carpets  all  sloppy..
Then  it  goes  gushing.
Out  the  back  door.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.

The football club were ****** new talent!

One day the manager burst into the dressing room
"Where's young Todd" he said
he's gone missing again;
pity, he's such a cool player"

My friend turned to me saying
it was an enigma

I  lean  my  cycle  against  the  shed
And  make  for  the  door ­ lowering  my  head

Driving  sleet  and  rain  and  wind.
Bites ­ my  face  as  I  let  myself  in.

0utside  the  trees  like  gh­ostly  shapes.
Are  tossing  and  heaving  right  across  space.
­
I  see  the  master  approaching  now.
Ducking  and  weaving  to­  avoid  a  tree  bough.

It,s  pretty  hopeless  today  he  says­.
Follow  me  without  delay.

We  walk  to  the  big  house,  I ­ cannot  win.
He  pushes  open  the  big  door  and  takes  me  i­n.
I,ve  got  you  a  painting  job,  he  says.
These  gentry  fo­lk  they  have  strange  ways.

Well I,m  a  gardener  rain  or  shine  
I  pray  each  night  for  th­e  weather  to  be  kind.  

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere  UK  2016­.

The geese flew over, early morning
in strict formation
There seemed to be more than usual
Perhaps a dozen

The Birthwaite Ghost is on the prowl
See her glide hear her howl

Laboured footsteps can be heard
plodding on without a word

Drifting on just like a dream
bringing fear to the independent living team

Perhaps a resident from the past
coming home to roost at last

You stood tall
and blocked many
of life's footballs
for eighty odd years
You lived in many places
from Cairo to Barrow
until you came to live with lucky us
here in Windermere
I never saw you as a soldier
a lover of women and fun
It’s hard to see you shooting a gun
at anyone
I saw you as a gardener
toiling gently in the soil
You knew your birds and bees
and your flowers and your trees
You avoided the elevator
like the plague
I’m glad you left before
there were compromises
you would have to make
You still had most of your hair
and you preferred to take the stairs

A  beautiful  laburnum  tree
as  just  come  into  flower
outside  my  window.
Drooping  clusters  of
yellow  flowers.
Hanging  down  like  jewels
on  a  chain.
Truly  beautiful.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.

Went  down  to  the  lake  today.
The  vast  expanse  of  water
shimmering  under  the  baking  sun.
Had  some  food  and  drink
sat  on  a  bench.
The  swans  came  up  from  the
water  begging  for  food.
Truly  amazing  how  they
cope  on  dry  land.
. Slender  legs  supporting
a  bulky  body  mass.
They  certainly  belong  
in  the  water.
Crowds  of  people  about
mainly  Chinese  tourists.
Really  warm  day.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.

Passed  the  lake  last  evening.
It  looked  dark,dank  and  threatening.
In  the  fast  fading  light.
The  moody  mountains  stood  tall.
With  thick  mist  swirling  across.
In  ghostly  fashion.
A  complete  contrast  to  the  summer  view.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.

.

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

The Majestic English Oak
that stands proudly
in the corner of our garden
popular with the squirrels

Oak was used for ship-building
for years
noted for its resistance to water
Ours looks about eighty feet tall
overshadowing
the other trees

Superb!

A  group  of  maples
stand  proudly  in  the  village.

A  vivid  deep  scarlet  in  color
truly  magnificent  trees.

Very  pleasing  to  the  eye.
You  have  to  catch  the  moment  though
Sadly  the  beauty  soon  fades.

As  seen  in  October.

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.

The old cricket pavilion
in the village playing fields
eighty-one years ago
was in a very dilapidated state
We played in it for hours
It had a drop-down front
for the scorers of the match
and also a lean-to shed
locked-up
with all the tools and cricket gear
I often wonder
when it was taken down
It probably fell down
on it's own
Happy days!

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.

The Old Oak stands
in isolated splendour
In the far corner
of the garden

Skeletal in winter
beautiful in summer
must be at least
one hundred and fifty years old