poems

Spinning penny

Spinning Penny

22/06/2017

Ever heard a penny spin endlessly before coming to a flat stop?

That’s the longest death rattle, the silence before the drop.

Ever heard the silence tell you all of it’s bad dreams?

When she refuses to explain, the silence doesn’t talk, it screams.

Ever heard the rainbow come to a stop?

A plane cease to land?

An uneaten lollipop?

It pours with unheard trophies.

Soundless unclanging landings cushioned like the softest bed which you’ll never get to sleep in.

Ever heard them tell you “your friend has passed away?”

They think it was an accident.

He died yesterday.

The silence is the same.

The quietness profound.

When your partner dies.

The emptiness resounds.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

 

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poems

Magenta Sorrow

Magenta Sorrow

15/06/2017

Quell the thirst of a magenta sparrow.

Hawking back tomorrows sorrows.

Muddy puddle, wine glass lass.

Chugging back his lack of class.

Sipping deep the muddy bile, oily memories pacified.

Magnetic glass of darkest sheen.

Mirrors her magenta scene.

Awful taste that’s hard to swallow.

Not there today and gone tomorrow.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

 

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poems

Burning Ice.

Burning Ice.

21/06/2017

Your note was first to go followed by an arm and all that was below.

Moons swapped with suns and nights became days, weeks became years and that glow still stays.

The ice fills the land after a two mile gap.

You won’t find any oxygen the fire saw to that.

Church spires and skyscrapers peek out above the ice, a new land all frozen crisp, a new delight.

No movement, no birds, no people, no mice.

Nothing but silence and ice after ice.

Apart from a glow like a lump in the throat, it can be felt anywhere….

… just like your last note.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

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poems

Chances are

Chances are

21/06/2017

Chances are it is what it is.

You dithering mess of confusion and bliss.

Why do we scream and by we I mean me, but I can’t articulate I yearn to be free, at the top of our lungs for ego to see?

I’m rude, I insult, they say I tell the truth but I can’t digest if nice was ever much use?

when I (Made excuses) lost a friend. I changed my ideas. I became more a drifter more hide behind fears.

I guess it’s my kind of early warning. I’d rather push you away than hear your story.

I’ve read so many books I’ve got papercuts on each finger, the blood doesn’t clot.

I can’t handle another. I’m strong enough to admit.

I’ll push you away before a defeat.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

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poems

Note

Note

09/06/2017

I discovered my loss once I’d found the note.

It wasn’t that you weren’t there that affected me so much.

It’s that you weren’t everywhere.

You weren’t in the kitchen where we laughed.

The dining room where we ate.

The garden, we played or the bedroom we ached.

It was too late.

You weren’t heard in the other rooms.

No clothes, no smell of perfume.

No responce to my voice, no answers, no words.

Just gloom.

I found the note and held it.

You weren’t in my fingers for they were numb.

Nor my heart, was this alone?

You weren’t in my arms… what had I done?

My tears stained the paper, until like you..

…it was gone.

 

©G.P Williamson 2017

 

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A for Alpha

A for Alpha

17/5/2017

What started as a lullaby.

Sweet, crisp and even.

Melodic in it’s rhythm and with purity and reason.

Is now losing words,

Big gaps which once made sense.

A nothingness, no afterthought,

A contract of comuppence.

The park looked good at first.

But now it’s just a K.

It’s like the Alpha letter chased the other ones away.

With all the jumbled lazy faces in place of missing crazy aces.

I wonder will it keep it’s place when it can barely tie it’s laces.

Like a family photograph in unfamiliar places.

Echo’s of the mind where a five your old’s been tracing.

A gallary of petty flaws where once the soldiers stood.

Once loyal to the business cause once paid their time in blood.

What started as a lullaby sweet and crisp and even.

Has ended in a tragedy, even I can’t believe in.

©G.P Williamson 2017

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poems

They tried

They tried

22/05/2017

They tried to disuade me on saturday when they closed each and every door.

They tried at every home I’ve lived, without riches make him poor.

They tried with misdirection, they tried with general wars.

They tried again in March as they’ll try forevermore.

They nibble at the memories.

They chew the photograph’s.

Delete the very messages, that remind me of your laugh.

The way your hair fell sideways in any kind of weather.

The way you giggled randomly on summer hikes together.

Each moment reading stories.
Every sticky sweet throughout the day.

They found the nevernding delete and wiped them all away.

We fear the endless vanish.

The depth’s within the sea.

Mostly I fear missing, every moment you’re with me.

Gone through a tommorrow log.

The sunshine blinds us too.

A picnic at the seaside, another amazing view.

Beauty behind your eyes,

mesmerised where your perception rests.

Nothing but your favourite bear is what they now have left.

They tried to steal my everything.

Future memories and above.

Yet knowledge of your magic world.

Your love remains just enough.

©G.P Williamson 2017

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