poems, Short poems




There’s solace in peacekeeping but for passion you need a good argument, or a bad argument.

Passion isn’t secure. It’s confidant wild and free, it’s not tulip petals.

It’s rose thorns and stingy nettles.

There’s passion in that danger.

That’s why we seek the rollercoaster.

Dangerous safety, commitment baby.

Keep your solace, drive me crazy.

© G.P Williamson 2017


Edge of a revolution

Edge of a revolution.


The light does not exist if you do not exist.

The colours cease to be if you cease to be.

The shapes are lost if you are lost.

The breath is gone if you are gone.

The heartbeat stops when you stop.

The future is missing if you are missing.

Both the noise and silence echo with the disaster of your absence.


© G.P Williamson 2017





I couldn’t tempt her.

Couldn’t pre empt her.

Make her guess.

She knew where to walk.

How to talk.

That look, that dress.

Forever loiters in my memory like a tombstone, I confess.

She climbs with stony limbs, blue eyes with sparkled wings, crescent moons of all things.

I rate the world and drown within.

I can’t get her to substantiate the perpetual bliss of misery.

They say I exaggerate when in fact my exasperate dreams are heaven aches but she lives for more than my heartbreak.

I couldn’t tempt her.

© G.P Williamson 2017


Thief by nature

Thief by nature


He wasn’t a thief by nature.

Steady job.

Hospital porter.

Generous, caring,

fathered a daughter.

Well known as dad.

Not your typical bad lad.

He wasn’t a thief by design.

Enjoyed a laugh with the boys.

Chess player’s, fresh donut’s, messy kitchen, victimless crime.

Their wasn’t much he couldn’t turn his hand to, but his eyes they didn’t shine.

Now when they married, nor when they dated and dined.

It was surreal, a unique love, sublime.

He wasn’t a thief by nature, but her….he had to have.


© G.P Williamson 2017



Coast to Coast.

Coast to Coast.


Coast to coast.

Wasted drench coat in the heat I love the most.

Can’t feel beyond the dull breeze of tomorrow.

Where will all the rainbows hide?

Water down a children’s slide with no child in view.

All the things you fail to see are because they once were you.

I cannot give up forgetting to remember.

All of my dreams were born in September.

Coast to Coast

wasted drench coat in the heat I love the most.

Frost bite’s nightly.

We sleep alone in quietness the deafening bustle is unsightly.

I’d ignite a flame but the passion passed right by me.

Come to me, find recourse. Elaborate on the misgiving’s move on – clear remorse.

Too easy for the statue of liberty.

Cold stone hearted no emotion all cold and fool hardy.

Broken swords on open books from lyrical stories with souls on hooks, dangling gangly, wriggling in the open air all painful and full view.

One of which is me.

The other’s we’re through.

I can’t see your soul, what happened to you?

Masquerade the sad parade. Happy sad and start to fade.

Nightmarish dreams children’s screams.

Were you ever what you seemed?


© G.P Williamson 2017



Six word story.

Six word story.

(The idea behind a six word story is that each person comments to create the best or most interesting and most often than not they work as prompts for future works. However I’d noticed I was commenting a fair bit on one post so I put them together and got something……different.)

Six word story.

Together they never forgave each other.

Bludgeoned to ecstacy in chaotic wonder.

Last night they cried mercy, eternally.

Forget me not remember me always.

Death was the release they longed for.

A long release pained every crevice.

Each popcorn bit, a silent scream.

Memory blanked from depth’s just discovered.

He stopped my pain, squeezed throat.

Reiterate my start, unblock my heart.

Beach house blinds the graveyard neighbours.

Standing on stones, blood red rivers.

Many women died within his eyes.

Together they danced, entwined in tomorrow.


© G.P Williamson 2017