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William W. Thomson
Born in '68, I now live in the North East. I have been a diver, a commando and, most recently, a theology graduate. Metaphysical Yearning is my first book of poetry.
Poems
ON CREATION'S PILLOW
Amidst the lunacy and turmoil,
soldiers sleep.
Tombstones message received,
there are families that weep.
Innocent killers curl infant like,
dreaming of fragrant meadows and mum.
Loved ones lost, an anguish shared,
emotion tumbles deep into shadows.
O’ hear my cry, come rest a while.
On creation’s magnanimous pillow.
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THE POSSIBILITIES OF DREAMS
A youth of expectation so unhindered in belief.
Limited possibilities in a kaleidoscope of truth.
The days flow past, in night they settle,
those dreams of distant futures.
Pride and bravery brought to the fore,
our life entwined with destinies’ chore.
They found the truth, conceived with the senses,
Brought to an action to conceal their defences.
A question rested upon one’s lips.
Unutterable by conception.
The time has come, prepare yourself,
like you did when you were young.
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A PRAYER FOR ESSENCE
Wash all of your words away,
leave us quiet, yet still gazing.
Take the perplexity from our lips,
give us true understanding.
For Your words are not ours,
they are Yours, to be cherished.
Lost in limits of reason, please,
return us to faith,
but leave us with vision,
to see Your work in this place.
With no voice and no words,
will your enemies be gone?
Show the people of darkness,
that Your word conquers all.
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THINKING OUTWARD
A time to realise love,
received from above or just something that's done.
A freedom of realisation,
finding our place within the walls of creation.
So much sense in juxtaposing the truth,
our gift of life so unselfish, it's sure.
Questions after answers grope blindingly out of objectivity,
no feeling of sense at all.
From objectivity alone,
do we retreat into emptiness,
shattering our gift of love.
Hold together the objective subjective.
View the world as your calling,
transcend your human core,
radiate your love, on all,
as it's done for you.
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REMEMBERING
Remembering it’s not too late to share,
recalling those days.
The sea air mixed with candy-floss,
warmed my happiness.
Shooting ducks for goldfish,
that never made the long walk home.
Crashing dodgems, to and fro,
a laugh, a smile, four people, two dogs.
WELKS! 10p a bag, once,
the pipe where they came from.
Same place different year, no candy-floss,
no dodgems or goldfish, a youth al but gone.
Memories, still alive, realise, that this is it.
Love those with every tender minute for sharing their life with you.
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A DIVER'S DREAM
One hundred fathoms and rising,
bubbles quicken in reach for the sky.
An ocean of gravity on my head,
a relative density, why?
An umbrella on a sunny day
no drop of rain in sight,
shadows create a density
of darkness, consuming the light.
Beyond the blue of the galaxy
this deepness appears to begin.
An existing form of substance
holding all in densities reign.
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THE FROSTY MOON
Calculating, feeling cold,
from the frost on the moon,
my thoughts would wander
incapably so far so soon.
The light shone on high,
sparkling life below.
The shimmering ground furrows as
frost smiles along the shore.
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