poems, Short poems

Just another tuesday night.

Just another Tuesday night.

04/12/17

Her knee’s stuck in the mud as the twigs lashed her face in torment of her beauty.

The sky darkened and groaned as the tree arched and moaned, gnarled hands dragged her flailing awkwards.

Falling downwards to a cloud of woods.

A flock of doves flew and they knew,

Grabbed ankles through the roots of tree shoots as the wind kicks up a new noose and she gasps as her shoes fall loose.

Her eyes roll momentarily as a raven lands and tells her soul that she’s found a new man to call home.

© G.P Williamson 2017

 

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Short poems

Behave

Behave

30/10/17

Behave she said reluctantly in a tone she didn’t mean.

Laughing, joking, jovially in a place like evergreen.

The warm warped willow bent softly to her will.

For them both a treasured time.

A photo if you will.

Captured in the budding throbs of a thousand nestling bee’s.

A highlight of a Summer day hidden within the trees.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

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poems

Appetite

Appetite

22/10/17

She rages beauty.

Angers it.

Snaps and swears the elegance of a wonderous ghost.

She plagues the host.

Shows harm through the veil of olive legs and pepperskin pigment.

A divine conclusion of demonic ambivalence.

The hot night air sweats abundance.

The hyper activity of an overheat heart and I.

I can’t move, can’t depart.

Her throat bares itself to my lips and I grip as she drops back against the solid cold wall.

One bite and she’d fulfil my all.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

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The Unicorn

The unicorn

13/10/17

She breathed fire in a mysterious turn of events.

She glowed the coals of a thousand soul’s who’s embers lit up roasting homes.

They dreamt of cocoa, morning coffee, Halloween and sticky toffee.

Inhaled as her chest moved quick.

The cloud in sparks, hooves clickety tick.

Shining like pure silver after the Autumn fall.

Gone like a shot into the night sky, a miracle to us all.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

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Astrallers

Astrallers

07/10/17

They travel on bended knees through broken trees and weave through dreams when Christmas looms.

All for you so one day you can see them too.

They help them, guide them. Redirect them to the light behind them and you ridicule and blind them? Make memories subside to cover and hide them?

Shame their beliefs.

Bequeath the will to guide them.

You can’t find them.

The light shows both placidity and care.

Accept the world you’ve come to know because it…….it isn’t there.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

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poems

How to be poetic.

How to be poetic.

04/10/17

How to be poetic said the literate to the fool.

Have you felt no meanings? He asked not ridiculed.

Have you not tasted sophistication?

Lay on a bale of hay?

Sang along in unison or wondered night and day?

How to be poetic said the literate to the fool.

Have you not a memory?

Been around the world?

Have you never pondered why the boys they chase the girls?

How to be poetic said the literate to the fool.

Weren’t you educated at your colleges and schools?

Did university have not both a bar and pool?

Don’t you see the tears of another handsome fool?

How to be poetic said the literate to the fool.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

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poems

Rationalisation.

Rationalisation.

11/09/2017

Tell your wife to stop calling me in the night.

I feel her warmth in imagery held tight.

Like a rainbow in moonlight.

Frogskin essence a trickle down canvess like a subdued renaissance.

Passionate without the intimacy, a clear sense of touch but through me, like a visualisation, a meditation, a realisation of no medication.

Ceased to be yet ever present. I miss you. I miss your education. The clever conversation and all we could learn about education.

Tell your wife to stop calling me in the night.

Rationalisation.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

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