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

Graphic, poems, Short poems

Tormented November

Tormented November


She rode the night like November depended on her torment.

Her pale thighs broke the darkness in rhythmic unison like shooting stars across a night sky.

The velvet shoes glistened softly in the moonlight as the lace curtain drifted softly in the cool air.

A young man’s fantasy vanished as it became a reality.

Before the dawn, the age of man was born.


© 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


Remember him

Remember him


Remember the boy who couldn’t show sorrow.

Random acts of kindness his short life brought a nation.

Together sacrificed this love that’s God’s creation.

Remember the authorities did all they could to stop the flow of this angel’s blood.

Ormand street as it shall now be known, for the Great shall always forever have fallen.

Powerful elixirs all over the world.

He gave to our lives and education, highlighted poor morals and united the nations.

Squabbles held dear should forever become lose.

Shouldn’t this life at least highlight the true value of cost?

I’ll not speak his name for it’s more hallowed than faith.

In my country I’m humbled but tonight I’m disgraced.

These parents are legends and I’m filled with regret that their awful struggle is not over yet.

I’m broken all over and all open and wide, through the voice of our people who hold him dear inside.

We cry as a people.

We cry as a nation.

We cry as humanity.

He’s our salvation.

Highlight’s who we really are and the cruelty of our law.

No man is mothered by the court.

We are government from the womb.

Parental ties, one union, efficient etiquette.

No law can beat the love of man.

The war isn’t over yet.


© G.P Williamson 2017