Our mind is full

Our mind is full of thoughts.
Thoughts are an accumulation of sentences.
Sentences are made of words.
Words are a mix of letters.
Letters are just a drawing on a piece of paper.
Our thoughts are random drawings in our heads.
We gave them meaning and power.
But by themselves they aren’t that much.
Little letters floating around, dancing in our heads.
They go here and there.
Calling us for attention.
For us to listen.
To give them life.
They come and go.
And we watch them all day long.
The only story of our life.
K. Wilson



The power of the Word.

What does one word mean

when all is meaningless

when words like thoughts are just ideas floating on clouds

made of thin air

with no beginning and no ending.

What does one word mean

when we are all day bombarded by random texts

by thousand words we catch here and there

that we read, we hear and then we forget

What does one word mean

when we spend our days listening to the ones in our heads

all messed up, pulling us here and there

backwards, forwards,

we are running behind them trying to catch them

looking for answers

searching for their meaning in our lives

What does one word mean

when it is lost among all these?

And what would it mean if it were to stand alone,

in its glory

in its power

in its simplicity

It is everything, it is all that is, it is all we are looking for.


The meaning of life


What is the meaning of life?

Is it the incessant quest for a future dream object?

The daily building of a future security?

A working path towards retirement?

The search for the happy ending of ever after?

Or is it more noticing what is already there,

what we already have and don’t really need

what our life is full of but that we hardly see

the joy and the love of the present moment

the life and the laughs of the daily instants

the peace and the beauty of nature events

the happiness that is





K. Wilson

Mindful poetry


The washer women’s delight

Some may know this tale alright

know the washer woman’s plight

Piles of laundry fill her sight

Washing, scrubbing ,morn till night

bending , lifting, nothing light

A thankless job, always trite

It’s seems her life is just a slight

Yet ,watch a while. Am I right?

Have I overlooked this site?

The sun is shining very bright

leaves are glistening in the light

A knowing grin ,very slight

birds are singing with delight

Her pose appears, more upright

A shirt is dancing like a kite

While butterflies play in flight

eyes are shining big and bright

A smile brings her face alight

how does she do it, such insight ?

Could it work for me? It might..

simply choose to,see a right?

And share the washer women’s delight?

Poem written by R.Wiley