Short poems

that heavy sigh laugh.

That heavy sigh laugh.

08/07/2018

It’s been a while since I sighed that heavy after laughing so hard your stomach aches.
Laugh we used to have sigh, aye.
It’s been a while because I filed it inside a cry.
It gets too close to laugh, I don’t know why.
I pretend as I look at the sky trying to glimpse a memory.
It’s been a while.
I relive the end daily.
Remind me of that laughter, This teams banter gives me a time I’ve draft.
Maybe I’ll resign up at last and yet it couldn’t replace our old chats.
There’s a fear in that.
I’m not awkward I’m malnourished.
The unpublished memory of the you I cherished.
I know what I have and what I’m scared to have.
It’s been a while since I sighed that heavy sigh laugh.

© G.P Williamson 2018

Advertisements
Standard
Short poems

Suicide reality.

Suicide reality.

08/06/2018

It’s been six years this year.
You never said goodbye.
No adios, no see you later.
Just vanished after everything like you so often had before, days turned to weeks then a message at my door.
You were no more.
You were no more.
I still find it weird.
Still expect you to just turn up demanding pizza and helping yourself.
I went to your funeral, it didn’t help.
You weren’t the type to kil yourself.
It’s been six years this year.
You never said goodbye.

© G.P Williamson 2018

Standard
poems

They still mourn.

They still mourn.

24/06/2018

A thousand monks couldn’t heal her.

Kneeling in prayer, filling the air a cloud of fire and love for the world to share.

Scooped up, segregated and sliced part by part.

fed to her mind, body and heart.

Kept her in limbo, no wish to let her go.

Diana for queen.

Where did that time go?

The world mourned.

Parliament scorned as the public sadly grieved, unarmed.

We knew loss like we felt the reasons of price and cost.

It was too much.

Worked on and through adventure restrained.

Still nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Feeble reality, a world that will never be the same.

© G.P Williamson 2018

Standard
Short poems

No Rewind.

No rewind.

19/06/2018

A light goes out behind their eyes.

That’s what it’s like to watch them die.

It leaves a mark right here inside that shimmers and lights then fails to hide,

And it leaves other things inside.

Be good, be strong, love, be kind.

We don’t live forever, there is no rewind.

© G.P Williamson 2018

Standard
Short poems

My supernatural apparition

My Supernatural apparition

08/06/2018

I’ve tried remorseful apologies.

Forgiving eulogies and bagpipes with a twenty-four gun salute.

I’ve tried candles and wire.

Our old songs and no sunshine.

A few old lines at a time with fire.

I’ve tried the demonic press, the Ouija and a thousand rounds of pure duress to the back and the head and I confess.

My love for you has beyond transgressed.

Of this leaves the deepest impression,

You’re my favourite superstition.

© G.P Williamson 2018

Standard
poems

Rolling with the changes.

Rolling with the changes.

17/02/18

I’ve learnt to roll with changes although I like things crystal clear.

I understand it’s circumstance but not why you’re not here.

I understand that people think you don’t really matter.

You didn’t exist in breath or beat and so we just get better.

I’ve listened to the arguments both pro life and pro gun.

Yet they had choices of their own and us….well we had none.

I’ve given up on giving up, when I couldn’t fit you into faith.

Each day I live for here and now the smile grateful on my face.

I’m irritated much more often, angry quite a lot.

Yet I live for I’ve got instead of what we’ve not.

People around me lost plenty.

I hear them cry in the night.

Echo’s of eternity remind me I’m alright.

Then there’s you with everything.

Two jobs, two cars, two kids.

I marvel at the perfectness then shake my head at it.

I like to live my happiness like happiness loves life.

I mirror all the beauties in my daughter and my wife.

I saviour every moment from the mundane to the dear,

Because I’ll not be blind to love that finds itself right here.

I’ve learnt to roll with changes, although I like things crystal clear.

I understand it’s circumstance but not why you’re not here.

© G.P Williamson 2018

 

 

Standard
poems

My soppy woman.

My soppy woman.

12/05/2018

There’s this woman I love.

Three times three.

Well, two girls and her you see.

Through petals of life’s absurdity.

They’re not rose tinted.

We’ve had our share of brambles and weeds.

It’s just clear now they’re not all they seem.

They’re important, often difficult, sometimes gut wrenchingly hard.

Yet the good outweighs the bad by far.

For every one who is not here in this moment now with us in it.

There’s you three girls every, single, passing, minute.

Through petals of life’s absurdity.

© G.P Williamson 2018

 

Standard