She reads my poetry
in the way that she
makes love to me,
slow and
deliberately
so hot that she's melting me.

I try to write faster to outlast her,
but failure is a part of me
like broken down machinery
and still
she fixes me.

So they flee; once beautiful narratives detached from me and took off running.
For my own sake, I eventually follow and take off hunting.

Crossing the bridge to the ocean, finding no words above or beneath their pillars or the sun-setting shades on the water in motion.

Maybe I'll find the words perched on the bridge as a little black bird, who mirrored me in a way that resonated with my soul but whose tune sang not one melodic word.

I go to the ocean, and heavy waves collapsing onto beds of sand sighed no release for me, and I leave.

Home, I paint a picture and coaxed a thousand  empty words out of it, that rang like broken records and sang to me deep into the night.

I awake to a blizzard, beautiful white.
A cold I felt I'd brewed with my mind
So I try and dive into a novel only to find my mind's waters shallow, and the pages became no more than ink printed paper.
I think myself incapable;

I look to the bottle, mostly white,
It sat on my nightstand by white papers that so longed for me to write.
I kick my head back and let the words pour from the bottle and back into me, loosening my grip, they could finally flow free.

For walls and a roof... sitting on the floor.
Broken dreams are like shattered glass.
Don't move! You will get hurt.
You will always get hurt when your dreams are broken and your hopes shattered.

The light is broken and it's dark outside.
Can't tell where there is a door or window.
Escape out of side. So why look for it?
You will only get dissapointed when you hope to find something in the utter dark.

I'm sorry I couldn't save you
I'm sorry I wasn't there
I had to watch you struggle, but how would I show my care
I thought you had gotten better
I saw you start to fade
But in denial, pushed it aside and for you I tried to persuade
I knew things would improve, you didn't see the light
So that fateful time a year ago, you disappeared into the night
From that day on I promised, to remember why I live
Not always for myself, but so there's something for me to give
People will sometimes love, but as humans we also hate
Will you continue to fight? You're the one to choose your fate.

My  paper  man  retires  soon.
The  thought  of  it  fills  me  with  gloom.

I'll  miss  him  so  on  Monday  nights.
The  time  we  put  the  world  to  rights.

We  talked  of  war  and  peace  and  drugs.
Of  bygone  days  before  the  thugs.

He  came  in  wind  and  rain  and  hail.
With  a  treasury  of  fascinating  tales.

He's  seventy  now  it's  time  to  part.
But  I'll  hold  him  close  within  my  heart.

He's  worked  so  hard  he  deserves  a  rest.
In  this  mad  world  he's  been  the  best.

The  years  will  pass  I'll  not  forget.
His  happy  smile  will  linger  yet.

Happy  retirement  Mr  Brown.
A  true  friendship  I  have  found.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.

By the light of the Dark, and the gloom of the Moon
As we dance out in our sparkling silver suits
The wind whips our backs and our hooves grind the sand
As we crash with thunder upon many distant lands
We whirl and we chase, flicking droplets to your face
Avid and harsh, we would strike out at you with avarice
And yet… some days not nights, we are full of remorse
On our backs you will ride, full of fun and naivety
But those that will stray will be eaten, and never often found
And then people will say we are cruel
Are we hurt, no not us, we dance and whirl never caring
But some men say that they love us and have a bond
So under the light of the Sun we are corralled and yielding
Until weather and moon make us restless and daring
Then we come to rip down their walls and ruin their games
And forever we will wage war upon their defences