You’re more.

You’re more.


Please never understand yourself enough to be just one thing.

The pianist, the artist, the writer, mobile hands, intricate flows.

Amazing Grace, the echo of woes.

The builder, the teacher, the preacher.

Grounded foundations, flowing dreams, clear mind and water.

Humble Beginnings, a marriage, a father…..a daughter.

A timekeeper, a boss, a disciplinarian.

Habit dictates what will often be there again.

Free yourself through experience be fluid, smile when you react.

There’s a new future in each moment we have.

I’m not a poet any more than you’re a reader.

You’re ten times the outcome and ten times the seed.

© G.P Williamson 2018


Narrow Margin.

Narrow Margin.


I don’t blame you for your book of assumptions.

A conclusion of a nation.

The doubt due to my alienation.

I trusts your instincts, mostly.

But opinion’s wildy unjustified.

I’ve been kind.

I’ve kept to my end of the bargain.

Once again I’m writing within the confines of the lines and it’s a narrow margin.

© G.P Williamson 2017


Many facets


Many facets


There’s many facets to a man’s personality.

Those we see at dusk and dawn chopping trees as the sweat trails down his palm.

Brushing hair away with the back of his hand where a bottle found his grasp.

The seconds tick by like hours on a doomed expression in the waiting room.

Eyes roll as wife moans at old chores she’d bespoke.

He laughs over beer with other blokes.

The pride in his eyes when his daughter passed her test.

The ability to keep going when he needs to rest.

Creating a family home from an empty nest.

An empty grave where he rests.

There’s many facets to a mans personality.


© G.P Williamson 2017


The bad mirror

The bad mirror


They believe you’re perfectly charming.

There’s a lie beneath the cloak of ego.

A reflection which bites the legs under the cover of darkness during sleep time.

Night time.

Alone time.

Not daytime.

Not at any point where you direct your shield to prevent them knowing the real you, oh no, that wouldn’t do.

Your cowardice is the ink which gives birth to the oath of a lie.

Your mouth the birthing mother giving growth to humanity.

The type of growth most people pay to have removed for the fear of appearing hideous, yet you, wow.

You’ve made a living from parenting them, coaching lies to ladies eyes whilst turning cheeks as though surprised.

I had to watch mesmerised.

The only question left is why?


© G.P Williamson 2017