To  my  home  there  on  the  hilltop.
To  my  home  there  by  the  dale.
To  that  place  which  is  a  part  of  me.
One  day  I  know  I'll  sail.

I'll  step  off  the  ships  forever.
And  I'll  sail  no  more  the  seas..
When  I  answer  yet  the  sirens.
Of  my  homeland  calling  me.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK  2016.

I  read  a  obituary  in  the  newspaper.
Of  a  long  lost  friend.

It  hit  me  off  the  page.
Like  an  arrow  through  my  heart.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.

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.

She tips the toppling tide,
lavish underbelly of an albatross,
and how she rides.

Each wave washing
its imposing self to shore,
more, glorious more,
this gasping February seashore.

Tufts of feathers flutter
and dune grasses dance muster,
must hold ons,
this rallying of  the determined.
Grace notes, song of nature swim in.
Melody of gull, harmonious tension
broken.

Her flight brings tears. She is gone.
Will she weather? For now perhaps,
but not long.

Early hours; the
parts of sleep
     recalled;
          a fly opening
        it's silk cocoon,
   a foetus moving
in a jelly womb,
   irises and corneas
         assembling into eyes
                    eager to explore
                a world outside;
      those first times
when regrets are
               abstract concepts
                             not feelings
                        growing roots
       in subconscious pools;
all the things I'd redo,
              my deepest desire
                              to be anew

I was sitting on a wooden chair
Wondering what life could share
Does happiness for real?
If I have no hope and no one could heal.

I am surrounded by thick walls
No one could hear my woeful calls
I am covered by fainted gleam
Which no one could see my enormous pain.

The briny fluid keeps flowing around me
Screaming blatantly; this loneliness kills me!
I’m trapped and no one’s glad to rescue me
Why letting this happen by Thee?

Someone answered abruptly
“You’re not alone and always accompanied by me”
“I never leave even in your darkest day”
“You just have to kneel your feet, close your palm and Pray”

From that day on,
I never seen the warm-fuzzies on your face
All I can see is woe and wretch
And now, after the doomsday of resentness
There lies your genuine happiness
Which fulfill my heart with a great bliss..