I yearn for
The most ordinary
Type of beauty

One that does not
Steal your
Breath away

Or cause your
Heartbeat
To quicken

But one you
Do not
Tire looking at

That garners more
Love and adoration
With the passing
Of time

my heart is ******* in knots you know
each time I tried to let love in
"No!! Not again!!" It said
and twisted a new knot in
I don't believe I can get them out now
this last one, it's really too tight
It hurts my fingers when I try to pry
I tug and pull with all of my might
Now it's not just in knots
it's also all bruised
I think it's a hopeless endeavour
So I will go on with knots in my heart
For the rest of my life or forever

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

"This.
This is what I'm defined by.
This is who I am.
And come Hell or high water,
If I deny it,
I deny everything I am.
Everything I stand for."

every night I try to imagine how the moon dances.
I wonder,
does she know that the sky needs the dusk's embrace for her to appear?

I want to ask her,
“Does it get lonely up there?”
because sometimes the sand-like stars aren't enough

just like how certain things in this world could not keep the sadness at bay
where these things, like the tide,
change
and you don't know if you should get used to smiling everyday.

you want to.
you do.

but you're fearful of the waves suddenly stopping,
when peace becomes an equinox until the day disappears in full
and you can't tell your eyes anymore to stop screaming.

See, this is how the moon sometimes amazes me;
the way she can disappear ad interim
and come back when she's whole again.

I wish I could be like that.
disappear.
be whole again.

I have stories in my head.
I have feelings in my heart.
I have songs in my mouth.
But the words don't flow.

I want to write of adventure.
I want to sing of good times.
I want to express how much I love you.
But my mind forms these thoughts too slow.

I want to tell the stories of heroes I've dreamed up.
I want to compose ballads that stick in people's heads.
I want to write of love and life as I've experienced them.
But as I grasp for the words, from my hand they go.

I want to write. I should start today.
But here, in this moment, I don't know what to say.