poems, Uncategorized

You can’t achieve, under achiever.

You can’t achieve, under achiever.


Here she is again in this mind of mine all snowing with blizzard hail and rainy and pale.

Like a crustacean when I needed a whale all fickle and frail.

Intangible with insurmountable proof.

No matter the choices it’s all no use.

How aloof this deceiver this ridiculous make believe you can’t achieve, under achiever.

Here she is again wearing thin the voices of reason with her ghostly skin all pale and thin.

You can’t touch me, you’re not real! Run horror run.

I’m the king of my queenery and you answer to me.

Just because you sound convincing occasionally doesn’t mean I’ll let you win.

You’re all illusion and might.

Meet logic – hold tight.

© G.P Williamson 2018


Short poems, Uncategorized

Lets reminisce

Lets reminisce


Lets reminisce about the last time we laughed during the storm of 64, that time we shared a bath.

I couldn’t touch your hair because the dye was still setting and we both faked high off the fumes.

I can’t lay claim to the universe but we, we’re the only ones in the world.

I splashed and you laughed as the raindrops trickled down your back.

Yeah, what happened to all that?

© G.P Williamson 2018


Short poems, Uncategorized

Far away

Far away


I came here long ago from a land far away.

Where the rivers run wild and the women tend to stay.

I came here long ago when the steps were brushed and polished.

When coal filled up the bunkers and the window ledge with dollys.

I came here long ago when affection was the word “wench”

When the neighbours knew our daughters through a brew over the fence.

I came here long ago before the internet was born.

When the coal burned up the chimney and a tanned hide was the norm.

I came here long ago when we didn’t always win (but we were scoring)

If I knew then what I know now, I’d send them back a warning.

© G.P Williamson 2018


Shout out. Storiesofsabine, Sel51ven & Gyanendra0892

17th February.

Shout out to Instagrams Gyanendra0892 with “Confession of a heartbroken” I loved the exquisite presence in resltess despared days and with me your poem both shimmers and stays.

To Storiesofsabine who trickles words like molten steam, greezing and heating and all for the one. Cool and collected like the barrel of a gun.

To Se51ven for selling the best toys for both boys and men. As I promised you last week we’ll see you again.

Big thanks to all follows/subscribers/regulars on.

Facebook – GPWPoetry.




DM on Instagram or Mailto: Authorgarethwilliamson@yahoo.co.uk.

If we like what you love and love what you do. You’ll find yourself a post here too.

© G.P Williamson 2018





January 16th 2018

It’s like the beauty of getting snail mail or the traditional feel of an old wives tale. A piece of heather, a lucky rabbits foot.

Peeling an apple in one go and then throwing it over your shoulder to make the initial of your true love.

They’re all good stuff, but are they enough?

What happens when you’ve tried all the achey achey oils and the wakey wakey pills?

Most give up leading to addiction or negative connection. The rest just make do with a good old breakdown of which there’s a few. If you’re picky you even get to choose.

But then, what if you don’t want to quit? Maybe you’ve done your breakdown, had your rock bottom. Felt the world has ignored you and now aren’t ready to be forgotten.

What of those who still have that splinter in their mind and can’t let go? I don’t know many things but I know these are the people we don’t forget.

The ones who say “I’m hurt yeah, but I’m not done yet”

The ones who fight through sweat. The ones with scars and broken jars of hearts and aces with a hundred faces of pain and regret and still they chant with stamping feet and mean glares “I’m not done yet!”

I’m not done being me, being to me your vicious problems and we’ll bring to you our war. We are survivors, legends and will be remembered.


© G.P Williamson 2018


It’s been a while…my desk has moved.

It’s been a while…my desk has moved.


Since I last posted we’ve had Christmas and the last trimester to wage war and battle through. (Ok so I’ve done more of the waging war and less of the battling through but we’re all getting there.) My desk has vanished and been replaced by a shiny new baby change unit the second which is cool but we’re all scared of scratching it so I’m only allowed my laptop on my knee at the moment. (Don’t be deceived I am definitely the man of the house) It’s just I’m the man of the house when she’s not here. You thought all my provocative dominating style poetry was a genuine handsome, amazing, charismatic, powerful and real character didn’t you? You’d be right of course but she’s the boss and she knows it.

In other amazing news I’ve finally got to the stage where I’m not concerned anymore about telling everyone I’ve written my autobiography. A book that’s taken me over four years to complete! It’s finished, it’s edited, it’s been read at least eighteen million times by me and it’s been sent off to several publishers. (I’m new to the game bar a bit of self publishing so hey, slap your advice right down there in the comments section or if you really want to help just share this post.) It’s called “Checkmate” and I’ve had four come back with great comments but not perfect offers. I’ve yet to look into agents but we’ve decided we’ll give it a year and see what happens. The important thing for me is “I loved writing it and it is accomplishment” I hope one day you’ll enjoy reading it just as much.

Poetry (loosely termed) will always be my go to for instant gratification (In a writing sense!) because of my love of art therapy. The instant buzz of releasing all those emotions over the page. However I do write fiction and short stories too, I just tend to have a rhyming bug. I think it stems from having a stutter as a child where I couldn’t get words out at all after being mute for over a year (more in my book.) So now I tend to think in rhyme when it comes to writing which then makes it easier to describe events which hold emotional connections. I guess it removes some of the emotion from it by making it funny. (More on Art therapy, Nigel Mottram and my old issues later) for new issues of my work…. keep reading.

So the next few posts although will contain your ample dose of snippets, therapy and poetry. They’ll also include some random short stories and weird symbolic ramblings. Wait until baby two terms up, I’ll be sleep deprived, holding down a full-time job and updating my blog….aren’t you lucky?

– G.P Williamson.