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Stanley Wilkin Aug 2018
I loved you for a moment, then
that moment was gone-
where once was life again,
now there is none.

I should have held on
to the flicker of light
that briefly flared like winter sun
passionate and bright.

I should have held onto your hand
in case I strayed
but I couldn't then understand
the price to be paid.


I couldn't understand that love
is not necessarily scheduled to arrive,
not stapled to a plan, that kind of stuff,
not an adjunct to being alive.

I knew only not to renew,
something I casually dispensed with;
I know when something is through,
when remembered with grief-

I said goodbye to what might have been
to quiet walks, caresses and days in bed,
I said goodbye to a beautiful thing
half remembered, once alive, full of wonder, now dead.
Stanley Wilkin Aug 2018
When the rose’s bloom darkens
When the mountains sink,
When the desert overcomes starkness
And life comes to a brink,
When shade is clarified by light
And rain returns to cloud,
When day exonerates the night
And silence is too loud
And voices become deaf;
Then that’s when thankfully
Life replaces death
And what is, is no longer what is to be
And tears grow kinder
The air flows more gently
And gods grow ever blinder
And land returns to sea.
Stanley Wilkin May 2018
Each hill climbed means an obstacle overcome,
behind each hill is another,
behind the next is a mountain
of ravines and crags, covered with fine
snow; when overcome, the peak transcended,
life becomes just a pleasant downward
snowboard into the sun.
Stanley Wilkin May 2018
When someone dies their thoughts
Die with them,
Their bones absorb their words-
After a summer others cease to remember,
We fade and then are gone.


Each person is replaced:
Vast cities shrink becoming grass-beaten mounds,
Shining cultures wither,
Their intricate palaces shatter,
Temples decay under interminable suns,
Religions flounder, sacrificed to time.

Philosophies expire like sunlight
When night falls, wise words unravel,
Tortured by inconsequence,
Decay dripping from each syllable
Like uncollected wind-driven *******
Running down a lonely street.

In the alley the dog howls,
Amongst the discarded boxes the
Raven sings.
Stanley Wilkin May 2018
I kissed my true love
Beneath the gurning sun,
I caressed my true love,
Until the sun was gone.
I planted seeds in my true love’s garden,
Employed my eager ***** all day long,
I dug and dug in my true love’s garden
Until the planting was done.
Each seed became a flower,
Each flower became a sigh,
Pressed into her languid bower
As the night drifted slowly by.
In the morning, refreshed by the new sun,
In my true love’s garden bright
My work was finally done,
And I left with a horticulturalist's delight.
Stanley Wilkin May 2018
Before me the monster grew
In the stippled light
Dappled blue
It was an interesting sight.

A wondrous uncompromising
Dark hue
Its features had a disconcerting
Temporary feel. Nose and ears fixed by glue

And where his mouth should have
Been was a blue suede shoe,
And in place of eyes grave-
Stones inscribed with the names of no one I knew.

Still, he was very polite
For such a badly-hewn
Creature of the night.
Crafted as if from ancient stone,

He quietly broke my neck
With a pleasant-enough smile
And I heard it crack
Dying, deeply impressed by his style.
Stanley Wilkin Mar 2018
My golden tears flow, flow quickly
like flames in a drought-
spreading in gathering fury.
Sinking like rainbows in the sea.
My golden tears last a lifetime,
but bring no wealth to me.

I grabbed gold from the sun
one day and concealed
it in my brain. its
light created ectasy and made
me insane.

I took it out periodically
and admired it, lying supine
in my hand, the gold
would spin around both
shrink and expand,

but the gold although it glistened brightly
brought no love to me,
dripping like shimmering lava
circling and encircling
it hardened before my sight
growing harder as it cooled
it only revealed the night.

I loved it like sculpture, like beautiful paintings
on my wall,
I touched it as it shone,
as it took me for a fool.
I wiped my eyes with its fury
my eyes resembled tears,
golden tears that flow so quickly
down, down the empty years.
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