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Stanley Wilkin Mar 2016
In the middle of a storm, rain crumbling the air,
My father died
I did not cry, nor care,
I sighed.  
Walking the ground I hummed a jaunty popular song
Knowing now, at last, he I could tread upon.
Stanley Wilkin Mar 2016
That day we came
and having come
lapped at by perfumed light
at once separated.
We bathed in the pool
the water like crystal
in the sunset
our limbs like glass.

On the bank
in the hot conjoined air
we made love again
our sweat
like silver in the moonlight.

the water's suppurating flow
drew our limbs
like flotsam in the reeds
grappling glistering lilies
as we floated in slow, *******
currents.

along the bank, the Camphor
shades the forest flowers
through the long-leaved grass
the python slinks

We leave for home
darkened by the sun..........
tongues digging into melons,
pomegranates laid out
neatly for dessert


******* out the Rambutan-
once the hairy skin is peeled-
fiery, red
the soft core sweeter than coitus-
and stays longer in our thoughts.
is this where the dreams are,
or where the dreaming begins,
between the first caress
and the final gasp of satisfaction?
Where the threshing limbs
devour the sun-shredded wheat
and the panting ribbons of air
swallow the final sigh-
the sleek river flowing
seaward, ocean marshalling
the land,
coral languishing in green pools
of broken light.

Here, within this infused beauty,
******* has power
beyond the weather-bound senses
of our northern homes,
encased in dull precipitation
sunshine a blunted knife

beyond the ***-shaped mountains
high above the trees
like a tear emerging from the sky
drops the waterfall
its descent
languid, its fall sharp and effortless;
tinged with azure, carefully sprinkled flakes
it spreads out like a clear, chiming puddle.
There we spread ourselves
naked in the sunlight
the sea's rumbling noise
distant and fumbling-

spreading its curling claws
into the slyly forming sunset
in reiterated rhythms
like beating hearts
like lungs-
the carefully manufactured beats
blending.
Stanley Wilkin Mar 2016
I know you haven’t heard from me
For a millennium, but here I am
Still around, still observing, still involved.
I am ancient of course but no older than before
When you knew me as a warrior-striding
Over flaming mountains and trembling seas.
Do you remember?
Do you remember how I inspired you from
The clouds? My voice like thunder,
My voice carrying lightening from a darkening
Sky? ……………………Well, anyway, good to see
You all once again.
I actually haven’t been myself recently.
My legs have troubled me. My eyes
Have been plaguing me. I cannot see the earth
Clearly anymore.  In my wizened vision
It resembles a roughly-used marble,
I am after all, now and forever, the ancient of days.

Here’s the thing. I’m getting bored both of
Your antics and your obsession
With me. Please, lighten up! I made the
Sun so you would smile, children to give you hope!
But, it didn’t work I fear.

I can abide your petty squabbles.
Truly I can. I can abide your desperate need
For war. It’s quite exciting really and once I played
My part. The agonised features of the dying
Appeal to my nasty side to be honest.
I have a very nasty side as you are well aware.
I like your skyscrapers, your irritating as flies planes,
Your huge cities, your good as well as your promiscuous
Women, your strange observances
Songs and poetry. It is all very jolly.  But,
And it’s a huge ‘but’ I must admit,
I have grown bored.
You no longer inspire me. I am no longer
Eager to view your funny ways
When I wake, and before I sleep. I’ve decided
Your little planet must go. Sorry, I’m like that.
I follow my whims. Tomorrow, at 10 I turn off the light
So, please, stop praying. It’s so depressing.
There will be no reprieve this time. Accept your fate!
You will not feel a thing!  So, let’s make our final goodbyes.
I have really enjoyed your company-
Au Revoir. Oh, please stop crying-
It was great fun after all for all of us. Remember,
Nothing lasts forever. Not even me!
Stanley Wilkin Mar 2016
a slow walk through the cosmos
diving into a black hole-
god in the end just one big fat over-busy mole
digging through dark matter
Stanley Wilkin Feb 2016
When it is my time to die
Will I be frightened
Will I weep, struggling to hold onto the light
Will I pointlessly wonder why
I must embrace the end
My breathe coming slowly, my sight

Searching through darkness?
Will I hold onto
My loved ones, hoping to stay
As I expel in a volatile mess
What in life I have been through
Passing on my way?

As life disappears
And emptiness beckons uncontrollably
Will I know to let go
Embrace my fears
Leave with unruffled dignity
Fall calmly into that of which no one can know?
How will you conduct yourself as life ends?
Stanley Wilkin Feb 2016
My thoughts are like clouds

drifting slowly

My thoughts are like fire

Burning fiercely

My thoughts are like air

Invisible but life-giving

My thoughts are mine.
Stanley Wilkin Feb 2016
I held her dying hand in the soft morning light
I studied the shrinking life in her eyes.  
The woman I loved would not last out the night
Her groaning breath now fierce sighs.

The weakening flame in the quiet breeze
Matches her dying
Her beautiful face like a fallen goddess in a marble frieze,
Riven with crying.

Her beauty had aged, not gone,
Her white hair falling down like thin ribbons of snow;
Her eyes that once shone
Filled now with a frosty glow.

Soul and body fade away
The mind is a strip of celluloid,
With diminishing returns. Nothing will stay,
But pass infinitely into a void.  

In the end, all that lingers is love
Like a stable beacon through time,
No matter how complete, never enough,
In life, verse, prose and rhyme.
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