poisonous politics

Poisonous Politics



Wringing the washing through a mangle. Soapy tears by her bare feet.
Consoles her child to breast Christmas morn.
A two fold job, she’s keeping them warm.
Happy new year! Her solemn eyes swell.
She leans into his cheek ‘all will be well’
I’m sorry, I failed. I have nothing to give.
If we can’t earn then how can we live?

Balancing the books on a knife edge. Drowning in whisky he can’t afford.
Cardboard board games hand made.
He sold his carpentry tools yesterday to provide.
Mows the neighbours lawn. Digs up twelve tree’s.
Purchases the cream he rubs into her knee’s.

Wringing the life from the balanced books of good people whilst dining on lobster.
Consoles the masses to keep them calm, a two fold job. They own more homes.
Cardboard truths written with the cost of sold tools.
Happy new year! All will be well.
I’ve chosen your freedom, that’s not mine to sell.
I’m sorry you failed, but why should we give?
If you can’t earn this is how you should live.

Copyright G.P Williamson 2014


where shadows fall…

Where shadows fall… – Competition entry

Where shadows fall…
Different this year.
No spinning crystalline wind chime.
Pride of place astride your favourite tree.

Different this year.
My crippled old rogues hands broke the baubles we bought as one.
Lights shine like broken stars reflecting my pupils as I bleed.
Where shadows fall…

Different this year.
The microwave dings a chime which no longer irritates me.
Our chats once filled the emptiness where blackbirds hunt remains.
Where shadows fall…

Different this year.
I moved your photo again. I notice it more now.
We saved money on the heating bill at last.
The whiskey warms me in places.
Where shadows fall…

Different this year.
Politics are the same dull unending lies.
The washing has piled up.
I kept your cardigan.
Where shadows fall…

Different this year.
I forgot the cocoa you always kept for the carollers, they asked for you.
They sang to your ashes beneath our wedding picture, then left me alone.
Where shadows fall…

Different this year.
I see you everywhere.
I can’t do it anymore.
I love you.
We’ll celebrate new years together.
Where shadows fall…

Copyright G.P Williamson


It’s the most wonderful time of year.

It’s the most wonderful time of year – Competition entry.

It’s the most wonderful time of year.

I awoke to bright lights.
Diamonds sparkling in my wife’s eyes.
Toe to toe at the window pane.
Blankets of snow.
A clean finger through a window frame.

Chicken soup with a fusion of herbs.
Warm hands on hearts.
Touching fingertips to lips.
I love you.
Share gifts.
Unwrapping starts.

My angel gazes at the twinkling tree, her bottle and back to me.
Defiantly amazed.
Glittery eyes meet.
Photograph by a real tree.
Keepsakes for eternity.

Crunching icy steps to Grandma’s house.
New wellies.
A smell of frankincense.
Chestnuts crackle.
Children scream in play.
Oblivion on Christmas day.

Clean napkins.
Extending table.
Help dish up if you’re able.
Granddad mourns the same old jokes.
Silent prayers to long gone folk.

A solitary sprout, perhaps there’s two.
Pull the crackers!
Charades too!
Giving thanks for more than food.
A moment shared around the world.

A coal fire burns down memory lane.
Past and present unite in flame.
Sleeping warm all cosy and tight.
Merry Christmas to all and to all Goodnight.

Copyright G.P Williamson 2014.


A year gone by – December 2014

A year gone by – A competition entry.


A year gone by

I watched myself, watch her watch me watch whilst she screamed.
A lip biting, silent sound of release and exhalation.
In that one moment at that final push was the quiet sound of revelation.
A radiant light lit the room.
Poppies grew an inch and glowed.
Sunflowers turned in respect and admiration.
soldiers knelt in prayer.
I turned older and younger all at once alone with my pride.
Inside, outside and beside myself as my daughter hit the bed between the legs I’d loved many times before and I was born a fresh and a whole in one moment.
As complete and innocent in body and mind as the day I was born.
Daisy’s sighed to the mild wind in release of a breath and I was completed tenfold.
My title “dad” not even four letters but filled with an emotionally dictionary of words all lost in the moment of feelings, reaching a never ending crescendo of love.
Love pure, crisp and clean.
New dew mornings camping in the woods.
Crispy clean sheets.
An unexpected win for life, over joyed, overwhelmed, over love and beside myself.
We relayed the carpets.
Reorganised our finances.
Rewrote my story.
Redecorated the home.
Rearranged our jobs.
Rejoiced in love.
Refuelled ourselves.
Rekindled our passions,
And after one candle lit dinner’s night as the baby slept,
I watched myself, watch her watch me whilst she screamed.
A lip biting silent sound of release and exhalation.

Copyright G.P Williamson.


Dark Shields

Dark shields


Forever entitled to commitment, agreed.
A metaphor of freedom pinned in oath, I do.
The line is drawn.
Bare backed and forsaken.
Forgotten and not partaken.
A barren wasteland of absurdity as I continue smiling, laughing, loving, giving and caring.
None receiving.
Hoping to believe like Christmas eve.
It’s Halloween however.
I’m doomed.
Immortalised now and forever in a world that doesn’t know I’m present.
A gift, unwrapped, solitary, confined and forgotten.

Copyright G.P Williamson 2014.

Parenting, poems

A note

A note


The last line written.
The last sip of wine drank.
Sour taste.
One year.
A fleeting moment of perfection.
Did I spend enough time with you?
Loved forever and adored.
My heart and mind forever yours.
I love you beyond acknowledgement.
Beyond my repair.
Above the repercussions of my past.
I’ll be forever there.
All I do is with you in mind.
All I am holds you inside.
Forgive me the days I’ll miss and the times gone unshared.
Don’t for a second think I never cared.

Copyright G.P Williamson 2014