Contemplating moon
On my birthday

1
Full moon
Haloed by cloud

60 years on the planet.

Who am I?

2
Tonight the clouds ride
Behind the moon.

Universe
Inverted.

3
Moonlight is sun
Pouring out,

Dimpled mirror,
Dead to light.

4
A good sleep last night

Dark and dreamless
Dark and dreamless

5
Sun shone
Directly on my face.

Do not be sad,
Moon-

This is
Grace

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.

it is distressing, just all of life and
how I see other's motivations
at times,  through certain incidences
I feel so sorry
for  others who go on blindly
following
the propaganda
the stupidity,
I rhyme in defiance
to all of that,
or in blind eyed
optimism, a furor freed,
I wish by god, for all of us,
for our little spinning world
to take each other's hands
one day and see
we are all
just alike,
just molecules and little
galaxies
with black holes
and the brightest suns.

This house
slowly unraveling
peeling off in layers
            like citrus of sectioned
freshness
      squeezed out of bounds
                            my heart
                    all caught up
in rooms, furniture
f l y In g
no longer rooted
by familial gravity
My veins wrapped
in long strands of
              live wires
hugging each item tight
                 as if to unlock
       the memories that
scintillate within
and I
      radiate my  
            feelings of forever
to somehow imprint them
before they
whirl and swirl off
into the universe
Snippets of our lives
in angled slices
of colored mirror
a look
    a smile
       a glint in the eye
children laughing
               a garden surprise
               crazy kitchen singing
                      first solids and a bib
              first little sweet dance
      beatific smile from the crib
the bedroom for cuddles
little bugs wrapped in blankets,
so close and so dear
flanked by both of us,
guardians of light,
keeping out fears
Once, we claimed private time
velvet kisses down
trails of skin
hot lusted shadows
gently sliding within
This is how love corrupts
         how old batteries explode
            burning rust that erupts
                        as I break out
            from the mold
Now your words hit my skin
in bad chemical reaction
knives and arrows of rupture
as my bone marrow
                       gets fractured
Insides are spilling out
guts all over the floor
all this chaos created
as I split
     through
              the door

I 've nothing to do but sit and figure out the wrong parts
of Einstein's ride light theories
like I can't see time slowing
so how could it be
or
try to argue with Socrates who
is hung on my wall framed it's impossible
he always wins
or try to get rich quick
like Frey did with
a Million Little Lies
my next novel
awaiting publication,
about this dentist who underwent heart surgery
with no Anesthetic
Or dipute theories of Freud's
Oedipus Complex
with my gay friend.
who , by the way , had two mothers,
or watch CNN  and listen to
our President
make an *** out of hisself
and make all the other countries
laugh at us,
or clean up the kitchen, hell,
I think I am going to argue with Dostoyevsky
about Jewish states.

I,t  came  up  twice.

in plain print, he tells me it's a hawk
with a broken wing

I close my eyes...all I see is a black,
greasy bird, barely bigger than a sparrow

not even worthy of Poe-itizing into a raven;
certainly not a fierce falcon

why can't I see thee, red tailed hunter?
you hiding in clouds adrift behind my eyes?

no, the crow's there, shining in a gold sun; seems
I'm not destined to imagine grander birds of prey

at least not today, reading your words of broken things,
the dark clouds of your dreams