Rolling with the changes.

Rolling with the changes.


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




Vials of feelings.

Vials of feelings.


Glad for the vials of feelings I’m taking into the future.

Glad the shelf of love and luck holds more than most can conjecture.

The shelf that lasts beyond the depth of time is mine and no more secure could I find a path.

No bows no ties.

The ripples lie within the river but none within her eyes.

The stream of love drowns out the tears she used to cry.

A million other oceans and a thousand other whys?

She doesn’t hold the answers and her passion is my crime.

© G.P Williamson 2018


I’m not sure.

I’m not sure.


I’m not sure why the wind blew in the wrong direction to our beautiful collaboration.

But I’m glad we saw it, caught it and blew honey all over it.

Glad for the sticky paw, no more wars, cornier than thou consortium applause.

Glad for the all fours, knee’s sore back how we were before, outlaws.

I’m not sure why the wind blew in the wrong direction to our beautiful collaboration but without hesitation I appreciate our indescretion.

I’m glad we saw it, caught it and chucked it back in the pulpit.

Both the victims and the culprits.

© G.P Williamson 2018


There’s a cure.

There’s a cure.


There’s a missing thing.

A link that doesn’t clink.

Doesn’t connect a body part that was left dissected like a totem pole who’s head didn’t get elected.

Not standing tall at all.
Sworn oath’s all over the floor torn and scorned.

Burning confetti into shadow hearts along the walls.

The beat through my veins as duty calls and I stand with no sleep, no energy and I stand small for another stupid war.

Another freement of a disagreement.

Another debate we both hate.

Another screaming battle where we just stagnate.

I don’t even fear it anymore.

I feel it’s too late.

There’s a cap in the bottle. The sauce doesn’t milk it just congeals or hissed and there’s no love lost.

All the heals from long lost gazing out of windows together games to bedroom antics and lost time frames.

The past code is unlocked and somewhere between then and now the show stopped.

Heartbeats all stopped and unopened, untamed and misled and half broken memories under a bridge the ship swam and we’ve all sunken.

F*ck it, I may as well be an uncle token. Crack open a bottle the old demons awoken.

Persuade yourself to a genius future.

Each week’s the same a repeat trepidation to a fiery creature.

Week by week, worse by worse, I watch the clock ticking and wonder which will come first?

Leaving and losing or a big black hearse?

I wonder benignly as somewhere inside me I try to believe we can still reach the sky see.

Yet with every discussion the pain comes on rushing and you’re right there beside me and you keep on pushing.

Hide me.

I’m everything I wanted and a hundred times more.

If there’s something you don’t like – there’s always a cure.

© G.P Williamson 2018

Short poems

Just Stay (Short)

 Just stay (Short)

14th February 2018

Just stay.

Stay out of the way.

Arguments come, they go.

Relationships fray.

Just stay.

Uneven carpets in uneven halls.

Cracks in broken, damaged walls.

Foundations strong, the cobbles sore.

Just stay.

Stay out of the way.

From eternity, just stay.

© G.P Williamson 2018


The Night Train


Sometimes it’s cloudy but the sun’s still there.

Sometimes You’ll skip a gear but it’s usually worth the journey.

Sometimes you won’t listen but I know you can hear me.

I may not reflect your compassion on occasion but I can feel you, always.

On centre stage your cosmic rays brighten dismal forgone days.

You apply bright metaphors to simple conversations.

Keep me guessing with warm suggestions.

Right upto the point where it’s no longer a question.

Let me reiterate our suggestive conversation with another question.

Would you ride the night train?

Marry me again?

Run screaming through mud puddles whilst holding hands in the pouring rain?

I’m game.

It’s time to turn the tides.

A new leaf to regrow what hurts inside.

Shared wide, broken hearted.

A new oath that reinstates where we started.

Plasma guns, lazar rays and medical equipment.

Memories we don’t need, lets get a new shipment.

Sometimes the sun’s still there when it’s cloudy.

Sometimes you’ll reach your destination safely.

You won’t hear me but I know you’ll listen and that’s good enough for me.

I thank God for what I’ve been given.

Copyright G.P Williamson 2017