She's planting out her window box
Young shoots are showing through
She thinks about the Springtime
And the garden she once knew

There were primroses and daffodils
Sweet violets white and blue
She thinks about her husband
And when their love was new

Buds and blooms open up
They scent and colour Summer long
She thinks about those happy days
When they were young and strong

Sunset's falling sooner now
Petals drop, the show is done
She gathers up her Winter shawl
Prepares for what’s to come

take me
to the
space where
the  magnets of
                  our souls
rise up in mad thunder
sadness pushed
right out of stratosphere
a tidal wave rush,
       no warning--
as flames seep
through our skin
the burn cleansing
those cracked cuts
                          of glass,
searing granules of pain
that foam up
             from our pasts
and our wounds
get so pumped up
with love
       they bloom exotic
into
      floral entities
curious and strong
offbeat shapes
of undefined texture-
yet they suit us,
each throbbing petal
      intoxicated in
endorphin glow,
         softening as
tender eyefuls
of kisses embed
themselves in
our torrid earth

I will wrap my tendrils
                       around you
I will carry us, freshly seeded
   through these aching,
whipped-up winds
I will follow the arcs
  of aurora borealis
         beatific crystalline
I will let the wings beat
fast and full,
as they are meant to
I will release the
quicksand haze
of heaviness
that sometimes consumes us
and unravel depths
of the chaos within
In the meantime
just underneath,
a mere scratch
   under surface
a width of a molecule
from the pulse of skin
roars the breath of
            eternal blaze
etched in the silent layers
of your
              tattooed gaze
inked upon my essence
           in ancient runes
carved upon my heart
my quivering thighs,
a bond sealed in blood
and lingering sighs
Under dark rocks
rays of prismatic
                     rainbows
burst forth
unexpectedly,
        in phosphorescent miracle
release us from
our caged-up fury
Liquids morph into solid,
still iridescently fluvial
I reach out to you
pour fire
       in your veins,
for you are
      my Light
ebullating our souls
in healing trance
through the
       restless echoes
of
      night

A  stiff  breeze
blowing  the  cherry  blossoms  away.
Petals  floating  into  space
like  tiny  butterflies.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK  2017.

The Dragon Hatched

Baby snakes are always
The most dangerous.
They have not yet
Learned how to release
Their venom. I was a
Horrible little girl.
A terrible tease. I had
(And still have) a
Samurai tongue.
I know just where
To cut where it
Hurts the most.
And just like that
Baby snake
I struck out at
My baby brother.
Poor Mark. To this
Day he bears the
Marks of my fangs.
I'm being brutally
Honest. I was an
Unholy *terror...

I wish for your
Compassion however.
Hurting children
(People) hurt other
Children (people).
There's a incubator
For bullies. Mine was
In an incident when
I was 3 years old.

My sister and I were
*****. Not molested.
*****. By a child
Predator on a train.
My mother was sick
With one of her
Blinding migraine
Headaches. She
Couldn't watch us.
So we ran around
The train
Unrestrained. The
Obvious happened.
My sister, only 4,
Always felt guilty
Thereafter that she
Couldn't protect me!
My SOUL cries out
As I write this!
That little girl was
So wounded that
She withdrew from
Me for her guilt...

And *doted on my
Baby brother.

This absolutely *slayed
Me! and my sweet
Little baby brother
Received the brunt
Of my brutal anger.

I WAS ANGRY!!!
At everyone and
Everything. And the

DRAGON HATCHED...


SøułSurvivør
5/21/2017

I had the privilege
of the first house - fly
of the season
last Sunday
A sign of things to come