poems

Whisps of people

Whisps of people

01/07/2017

 

The people dissappear like whisps of smoke.

Twirling lighter into nothingness as they rise.

High rise past the sky’s dye’s where the sun lies.

Goodbyes.

They were talking at the stage door.

Two stood out but not to each other.

Opposing gems, some weird metaphor.

She was talking about not having a brother.

No male figure for her to share todays life with,

Apocolyptic abundance, how being on the rob doesn’t make good sense.

Teenagers pushing barriers, tasting waters with trepidence.

She fears how far she could go with no example.

She never goes anywhere.

The people dissappear like whisps of smoke twirling lighter into nothingness as they rise.

High rise past the sky’s dye’s where the sun lies.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

Standard
poems

Smiling at the window.

Smiling at the window.

12/06/2017

It’s the face in the window you never saw.

The white smiling lips and hollow eyes.

You have a way of pretending it wasn’t there.

Like a second thought,

a half hazard chance that it wasn’t reality.

Your subconsciounce is laughing at you.

It knows the truth and how much you won’t like it.

It’s beneath every blanket.

Behind every cupboard door.

In each dark corner of every dark room.

Beneath each floor.

In the mirror.

Below the sound of the dripping tap.

In every time you don’t know how to react.

Forgive my sins for yesterday I was your everything.

Whatever you’re believing I don’t know but passionless existance – that smiles at the window.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

Standard
poems

Carelessness causes fire.

Carelessness causes fire

12/06/2017

Carelessness causes fire.

It also causes other losses.

Pay attention to what you’ve got.

Things get broken, misplaced when they’re not cared for.

Gone, forgotton in a wince of pain and loneliness.

Do I look like I’ll beg for your forgiveness?

Straight answers with long faces.

This place kept safe with no disgraces.

No embraces.

Soulless shapes like empty suitcases.

I’d give myself a new shape to dictate a new fate but it’s too late.

I asked a million time why we’re here every few weeks, what can we change?

It’s heart breaking and just stays the same.

It’s the no flame game waiting for a stage to reset, get rearranged that’s left stagnating.

What’s left is half a heart beating.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

Standard
poems

Real fantasy

Real fantasy

17/06/2017

When there’s no fear during an argument anymore.

When the passion fails to rise.

When her opposing voice matters not.

It’s then, then you’ll capsize.

Sink for the sake of it because swimming isn’t worth the bother,

beneath the waves you’ll find that secluded kind of other.

She’ll suck you of your senses, pacify your thirst.

Remove the blood from your very veins unless you get there first.

She’ll cater to your every whim and you will set her free.

She’s real and all your favourite dreams,

She’s also fantasy.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

 

Standard
poems

She wrote “I love you”

She wrote “I love you”

12/06/2017

She wrote I love you on his hand with her fingernail.

Traced his life line back to birth and beyond to find another him.

A him from another time in another place.

She caught him a whim because she could.

So easily with just a line, a stroke of her hand and he was hers as they both wanted, unfaltered.

They shared books in life stories, broken hearts and house warmings.

Death and loss with ghostly partings.

Holding hands where none depart.

Excalibur might hold the strength of total unity but the ground provides unwavering solidarity.

Where he was her sword she was his world.

The clocks ticked backwards and they got younger as her eyes stopped time.

Every fibre of her clothing bristled with energy, the chemical energy made manifest that he knew too well.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

Standard
poems

Coffin Lid

Coffin Lid

24/06/2017

I can’t be the one to close the coffin lid.

I can’t because I’ll remember your eyes.

The way they used to look at me, and how they look at me now in my mind’s eye when I’ve not even thought about closing yet for fear,

fear of penetrating the cling film lid of your beauty.

Beauty which held a building, made a flat a home an apartment a womb, mind a soul and a family a tomb.

Beauty which would blossom if you’d let us live.

Forget it.

Instead we make beds for empty spaces, time killing eclipses where legs don’t run races.

Sweet goodnights with no kisses and two faces.

I can’t close the lid for it holding the rose we proposed.

The butterfly kisses on cake facet mixes and wall’s we affixed, painting’s transfixed of photo’s – we exist!

Before we betwixt, half way down the list where now you resist the touch of my kiss.

I can’t close the lid.

Rise from the ashes!

This family bashing is causing alarm our foundation is crashing whilst you’re just relaxing, doesn’t it mean a thing?

This wedding ring?

Your pheonix won’t sing to your last hopeful king?

Suffocating in style the cover’s worthwhile.

The writing does suffer as I watch all the others, Where I seem to smother you, still do not bother.

Aaaargh! I’d growl to the ether if the spirits were kind but this is not our first time at rewind.

I’m better off unable.

A dead horse in a stable.

I’m here to be used but I’d rather be intune to a respected connection a belonging with you.

I can’t close the lid.

F*ck you I’m past caring.

My daughter’s my heartbeat and that life I am sharing.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

Standard
poems

I’d run

I’d run

24/06/2017

I’d run after you if I thought for a second you’d acknowledge the race.

Stick to the rules and just run in a straight line so we could meet at the end.

It doesn’t matter who wins as long as we’re beside each other and together….

Who am I kidding? You gave up ages ago, I’m running solo.

There’s three times three lanes to this and I never wanted her to have to compete let alone keep up.

We will see you at the finish line.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

 

Standard