Short poems

The Great Illusion.

The Great Illusion.
26th July 2018

Imagination the worlds greatest deceiver.
Love the worlds largest believer.
Faith, a fickle fact.
Friendship, don’t over react.
Fate, without reason perhaps.
Blue print? Don’t make me laugh.
Do pray for those days you could have made a change.
Let them know more are welcome.
They’re challenging, life changing and seldom.
This perception is our reality, internal clarity.
Taste the purity, the best, accept no less.
work smart, not hard, rest.
Duress is a test, a byproduct of stress.
This perception no less is our reality.
Speak internal clarity.

© G.P Williamson 2018



Sir Nigel

Sir Nigel.


Rise sir Nigel.

Rise like the blazing phoenix you are.

RIse like hope riding bare back on a star.

Rise like Ali’s the greatest, because you are.

Rise because you helped countless children preserve who they are and who they were meant to be.

Rise because your sacrifice gave them power.

Rise because you’re the light in their darkest hour.

Rise because you can’t be the fears from which they hide.

Rise because we need to see you tried.

Rise a license to yourself “I won’t give up” and nowt else.

Rise sir Nigel.


© G.P Williamson 2017


Alone was all he knew.

Alone was all he knew.


They made him kneel.

They made him pray.

His smile never went away.

They made him promise.

He often swore.

Swore like he never had before.

Stoic adversary a creek he dug alone.

His friendship a silken scarf, woven from the bone.

A curled lip.

A slammed down hand.

Clawing dirt and grit and ground.

A pleasured hope, a rising damp a chance to go another lap.

They made him kneel.

They made him pray.

His smile never went away.


Copyright G.P Williamson 2017


Friend Zoned

Friend Zoned


Beautiful abundant spectacle of fiction.

Arisen diety from malnurished irregularity.

How the world conspires to taunt my inadequacy.

In the parish I remain haunted by her travesty.

The dark folds of her hair, curly tears like shredded sheets all crisp and fair.

Part fancy, wholely angry all rearranged and most gangly.

That just woke up look on the face of a china cup.

Sweet expression on a digestive complexion.

Pale yet golden, heart frozen on the totem pole of isolate desolation.

How I miss that unconsoleable touch.

Forgive me.

You weren’t mine to miss.

Mine to kiss.

Mine to hold and resist.

To trepidate, anticipate.

To let roam free, fly loose and reciprocate.

I was always too early to be too late.

My best mate.


© G.P Williamson 2017


He’s dead.

He’s dead.



So it’s true, forever sleeping.

Train lines halted.

The silence in the room is speaking.

I’d listen to what it has to say if it wasn’t for the numbness and the shock.

My gift to you could I bring it, would be more time on the clock.

Sattellites stop swirling and dim to nothing more than metallic nodding dogs in the sky.

A thousand relatives ask a thousand questions all of them are “why?”

Aries dances with virgo up high, an old sheepdog pants and then comes to rest.

As friends go, you’re one of the best.

So it’s true, forever sleeping and I wonder if somehow you brought me that training partner.

I’ll never forget the pose she made which was much like yours, it was so cute.

I’m sorry you never got to meet her Sharpshooter.

There’s a special place in my heart you’re keeping.

So it’s true – forever sleeping.


© G.P Williamson 2017


One minute

One minute


Can we take one minute to stop a war?

Do we instead need the minute’s silence to recall those gone before?

Shouldn’t a hand in a hand show you we’re all born from the same land?

Shouldn’t it be proper that we all have the freedom to speak and stand?

Can we take one minute to help someone less fortunate?

Can we look past our own fears, ego’s and regrets?

If we take one minute, together as a planet, then the best of our world hasn’t happend yet.

One minute to be the best poem ever written.

One minute to share all the love we’ve been given.

One minute to make time stand still and unite us as one race, the human race, forever.

Will you stand up?



© G.P Williamson 2017