Poetry

"...it’s time to update digital and physical charts..."

"A crane glides by... A kite follows..."

"...lightning and thunder sounding like part of a war..."

"...they’ll have no concept of true liberty..."

"...life’s flower spirals..."

"That spring day I yearned for solitude..."

"...My beginning was enough..."

"...A quiet theft of hours dressed as pay..."

"...Is that the iron railing carrying your handprints?..."

"...revealing hints of secret worlds..."

"...It weighs on the consciences of the Africans..."

"What we have here, boss..."

"We had seen the bold and blue horse in my dream..."

"...the lightning that I love in you was present ..."

"...The last time I saw him..."

"...turned into martyrs by bombs and airstrikes..."

"...rivers are dwindling..."

"...the fading star that suddenly stopped shining..."

"Weeping blossoms..."

"...Sunset mellow sky fading pink..."

"...a downward mobility thoroughfare ..."

"...I began to stare at myself..."

"...at least you turned up..."

"...I am trying to sketch the present..."

"...Our discernment may be required..."

"...Rolled in this morning with the tempest churning..."

"...what am I doing?..."

"...The full scale of the destruction is still unknown..."

Michael H.F. Wilkinson is a professional computer scientist, amateur astronomer, writing poetry at night (at least the cloudy ones). Topics include mental health, friendship, loss, our place in the cosmos, dancing, and anything else that springs to mind. He is a member of Groningen Poetry Stanza in the Netherlands.

"...he lived with rivers..."