Short poems

I’m still here.

I’m still there.
29/07/18

I love how I can simply reach through the screen and run my finger down your chest to let you know I’m still here.
In your mind.
Beside your side.
When you need to hide or the kind when you have to look behind.
That’s what was.
Not what’s here, reach out, don’t stop.
You’ll see me softly behind if you look long enough through a mirror.
The hazy apparition still holding your hand.
That chance encounter you’d not planned.
A memory of potential you’d dare not which believe.
Crazy in our faith.
Then we don’t have Christmas eve?
Call it ESP, telepathy, call it astral travel.
It’s all the same to me.
How I can simply be.
How I can simply be.
© G.P Williamson 2018

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Short poems

Don’t forget the water.

Don’t forget the water.
29/07/18

Forgive me father for I don’t believe in the peacefulness and serenity of family.
Have you heard mine?
I don’t believe it all happens in time.
Forgive me for unrhyming lines.
Peppermint pomegranate.
“Daddy can we make the biggest flower ever today?”
The blues immediately washed away.
“What do you mean baby?”
“Well, we plant a seed under the ground and it grows today and really, biggest one ever! Shines down on all the world!”
I laughed. “Okay baby”
“Daddy, don’t forget the water!”
She’s right you know.
I forgot the water.

© G.P Williamson 2018

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Short poems

Bubbles.

Bubbles.
26/06/18

It bubbles and brews when unreleased.
It angers and darkens.
The pressure increased.
I snap and churn, start to burn.
Throw fuel on fires I years unlearned.
I will be heard.
I’ll smile at teased.
Don’t prod the wolf.
He may bare teeth.
You’ve not seen what lies beneath.
It bubbles and brews when unreleased.
© G.P Williamson 2018

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Short poems

It’s time.

It’s time.
28/07/2018

It’s time.
She gave the okay.
This book thing, this nuance, this idea,
It’s going all the way.
Cover to cover we’ll cry you, tire you, arch your back and perspire you.
Motivational speaking, we’ll hire you and you know,
It’ll pass muster too.
Because if I can do it – you can too!

© G.P Williamson 2018 < Hit for Instagram.

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Short poems

Suicide reality.

Suicide reality.

08/06/2018

It’s been six years this year.
You never said goodbye.
No adios, no see you later.
Just vanished after everything like you so often had before, days turned to weeks then a message at my door.
You were no more.
You were no more.
I still find it weird.
Still expect you to just turn up demanding pizza and helping yourself.
I went to your funeral, it didn’t help.
You weren’t the type to kil yourself.
It’s been six years this year.
You never said goodbye.

© G.P Williamson 2018

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Short poems, Uncategorized

Retro festival

Retro festival

07/06/2018

Retro festival all mod con rockers donning fine dress beyond old ions of scones and military ear phones.

The smell bakes a thousand hearts home to kingdoms of ancient thrones.

Dancing rock songs like jiggly jangling bags of bones trying to find a hip swinging, tail wagging drunk route home.

Fake bobby’s all plastic nobbys acting fat round like crime’s just a hobby.

Blue suede shoes, lots of booze, icons, pinups, braces and Elvis too.

Uhuh.

© G.P Williamson 2018

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