poems, Short poems

Balloons on the water.

Balloons on the water.

06/11/17

Balloons set free like parts of the ego.

Released independently lighter and more fluid in motion,

cascading marbles drift out over the ocean.

White lights of bright daylight as the sun bites a reminder to hold tight.

This rotating cannonball in one swoop could clear us all.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

River Balloons

06/11/17

The river runs wild, tepid and tame.

The river runs open thinner and shared.

The river runs broader, wider and famed.

The river runs danger, calmer with games.

The river runs,

and it’s always the same.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

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Short poems

The cold of death.

The cold of death.

07/10/17

There’s not always growls and howls where the stalkers prowl.

rustled bushes, bulrushes, ivy dances in midnight crushes.

Smell of tomatoes where the water meets cold toes, shoes thrown.

Where home-grown ropes are sewn.

Where moral justification is two-tone.

Below the scaffolding of a crimson dome.

It was cold there, underwater.

She’s another innocent man’s daughter.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

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