Sickly and rich
laying in ditch
Rupert shouts
"that *****!"

10  WORDS.

I  watched  you  die.
There  was  nothing  I  could  do.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK. 2016.

10  WORDS.

I  live  in  Wordsworth  country.
Near  Grasmere,  the  Lake  District.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.

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.

Juicy, ripe
He hates to do this
with the knife.

(from 2012)*


A chance reveals itself before me,
Happenstance too good to pass-
I take this to the street, I’m changing how I see.

My heart races, my heartbeat fast begins to flee
My world becomes vast
In a waterless sea

I see the movement in every tree
As I float on a greener grass
Compelled by my knees to take me where I see

I follow the calling, only a body
A nail guided by magnets moving as mass
I’m no longer confined by reality

A world crafted by an artisan in geometry,
To think every star that meets my eye greets me from the past
And we are living trapped and pointlessly.

The sun peers over the horizon at me,
Light warms my world fast
But warmer are my thoughts, the chance that found me
Moved my world and set it free.

Love is indeed the most tragic form of art.

Clawing our way through the city, pale, hunched and toothless.

Floating through pink fluffy clouds
Terrified screams
The plane descends