I give her all the credit she impressed me.
They all walk around giving it their lion bravado like they have a worthwhile pride. whilst she keeps a secret with the easiest of smiles and an earthly feel.

Grounded like she held more place there than the building.

Like the teepee before the American’s moved in.

She smiled all the while a thousand mountains weigh her down.

What does she do? She stands using those hills to create a foundation, gaining height and build with doctorate elation and in a whisper of her own the world hears her almighty roar. “I am woman” and we stand in awe.

She said she’d do something and then she did.

© G.P Williamson 2017


One minute

One minute


Can we take one minute to stop a war?

Do we instead need the minute’s silence to recall those gone before?

Shouldn’t a hand in a hand show you we’re all born from the same land?

Shouldn’t it be proper that we all have the freedom to speak and stand?

Can we take one minute to help someone less fortunate?

Can we look past our own fears, ego’s and regrets?

If we take one minute, together as a planet, then the best of our world hasn’t happend yet.

One minute to be the best poem ever written.

One minute to share all the love we’ve been given.

One minute to make time stand still and unite us as one race, the human race, forever.

Will you stand up?



© G.P Williamson 2017


The Night Train


Sometimes it’s cloudy but the sun’s still there.

Sometimes You’ll skip a gear but it’s usually worth the journey.

Sometimes you won’t listen but I know you can hear me.

I may not reflect your compassion on occasion but I can feel you, always.

On centre stage your cosmic rays brighten dismal forgone days.

You apply bright metaphors to simple conversations.

Keep me guessing with warm suggestions.

Right upto the point where it’s no longer a question.

Let me reiterate our suggestive conversation with another question.

Would you ride the night train?

Marry me again?

Run screaming through mud puddles whilst holding hands in the pouring rain?

I’m game.

It’s time to turn the tides.

A new leaf to regrow what hurts inside.

Shared wide, broken hearted.

A new oath that reinstates where we started.

Plasma guns, lazar rays and medical equipment.

Memories we don’t need, lets get a new shipment.

Sometimes the sun’s still there when it’s cloudy.

Sometimes you’ll reach your destination safely.

You won’t hear me but I know you’ll listen and that’s good enough for me.

I thank God for what I’ve been given.

Copyright G.P Williamson 2017





I swallowed a lesson in humility just the other day.

He bought a big issue.

I looked the other way.

All I’ve achieved vanished momentarily and I was homeless once more.

He was back my master and I the student.

Then wham like the realisation of being shot after the impact, I was back. At what part of my journey did I sacrifice morality for being self assured?

My old friend said nothing. He simply smiled and raised a glass to the ether,

unaware of his teaching’s. More grain through oak than habit.

I learnt to bend like sapling, grow like tree, swallow the tides, exhale to be free. I picked “I’m important”, I chose “I can.” At what point did I turn my back on man?

He leaned in close “you experianced Astral travel?” A little laugh and my stories unravelled.

It’s hard as hell to explain my friend, But we’re all interconnected, we are one in the end. I explained with a smile, for the good talk was back.

It filled me with Joy, that I could share just that.

I swallowed a lesson in humility just the other day.

He bought a big issue.

I looked the other way.

Copyright G.P Williamson 2015