Short poems

Interestingly. (three short poems)


28th June 2018

Interestingly he tries harder that most I’ve met.
There for her family, pays life out in sweat.
Gives all he’s got and still finds time for regret.
Interestingly he tries harder than most I’ve met.

© G.P Williamson 2018



28th June 2018

Maxed out sleep with runny eyes.
Crying wolf where bedclothes lie.
Circular seasons, circular lives.
A cat o nine tails and a cat o nine wives.
Masked men who steal and plunder.
Her body more oft than her mind
The same woes are taken and tread on the same worried of woman and wine.
maxed out sleep with runny eyes.
Crying wolf where bedclothes lie.

© G.P Williamson 2018



She hussels for attention like a scratching beaver trying to climb a high shore line.
She hurts herself, and me this time.
The magpies don’t seem to mind.
My luck hasn’t changed.
I’d blame them completely.
Her wingspan cools and soothes me briefly, too brielfy.
So much I crave her touch.
How to reach those heights without flight, how should I make good red lips of blood?
She flows through me discreetly.
I knew she would.

© G.P Williamson 2018


Short poems

Misogyny & the catch 22.

Misogyny & the catch 22.

Blue eyed catch as eyes clash in a mismatched match of what could be and has.

Who knows what devastation could hatch.

Preplanned hardwired, mesmerised trip wires.

All slap dash misogyny catch 22 irony with a you who’d graciously best me.

You don’t dance the longest road.

You walk the vogue holy stroll ass home.

© G.P Williamson 2018

Short poems

The soft touch game.

The soft touch game.


You like to play the soft touch game don’t you?

Soft touch. I like you.

I’m taking this.

Soft touch. I love you.

I’m taking that.

Soft touch. You’re special.

I want a gold cat on a marble pedestal with a purple saxophone and a multigym with a personal trainer.

Soft touch. I’ll see you later.

© G.P Williamson 2018

Short poems

Kindness & kings.

Kindness and kings.


So kind the way his strong fingers play with your mind.

tussling your hair, starting to bind.

Hex threads with a kneading stress releasing duress.

The ultimate pain confession that’s heaven no less.

You’re the fork in the road in which he gets to trespass.

Begone dark memories and clouds galore.

Clarity in a moment wiped clean to the floor.

Purge the resistance and taken in totality.

I’ll be your man. You’ll be reality.

You might nurse heartache and blisters.

You’ll never forget the way he kissed ya.

© G.P Williamson 2018

Short poems

Heart of the home.

Heart of the home.

24th June 2018

Thigh high raised skirts, hot legs on brick walls so tall it hurts.

Two wafers at a bad church, I want to nibble the equivalent fibble.

The groups can’t interact for unmentionable counteracts and I’m humdrum, I fail to react.

Sunstroke teasing, eye pleasing, fate deceiving, watching those good legs weaving.

I’m still habitually believing.

He said she was needy because she text “I miss you.” after a year together.

I think he’s lucky, our weather is too hot and clammy or too cold and withdrawn.

The perfect temperature is the heart of the home.

© G.P Williamson 2018


Short poems

Above all else.

Above all else.


My hands feel their way.

They don’t need you for me to know my place.

My tongue doesn’t need you for me to know what I dislike.

My diary doesn’t need you to fill it in.

My heart doesn’t need you for me to love myself.

I want you.

I don’t need you.

Above all else.

© G.P Williamson 2018



Insane Bolt.

Insane Bolt.


She crashes and flashes without care this humongous white giant of electric air.

A powerhouse current of oblivianic proportions,

The mother of lost souls.

The keeper of abortions.

Raised souls long gone, hair raising talons of daughter and son.

Fountain claws and mismatched paws.

She screams and comes with wild white jaws.

Off with roofs and down with trees.

Human dust with backhand ease.

Awakened skies, awakened nights.

Blackened souls with jet white eyes.

© G.P Williamson 2018             <<<< Hit for Instagram.