poems

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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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

It’s Bob’s fault

It’s Bob’s fault

18/07/17

If she knew about Bob Lazar would she be intrigued?

Would space lead to a collaboration of stories weaved?

Rising like Apollo I’d lift for every occaion.

Each sweeping manifestation, a biblical revelation.

As sublime and divine as the fictional crime.

The universe may admire her beauty and that’s unquestionable.

However her brains flirted with me briefly through the darkness and the smoke.

I’m glad the visions changed and more so that I hadn’t spoke.

Somewhere beyond subconscious within reach yet untouchable.

Like Faith without the habit, A magician without a rabbit.

I am complete.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

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