My Wordly Wealth

Heather Williamson

Poetry on roots, love, life and faith

Category: Poetry

  • At my most childlike

    I am at my most childlikeat the onset of autumn.The first crisp morning brings goosebumpscaused not by cold airbut by anticipation.I hunt through cupboards for jumpers, boots and scarves – packed away hurriedly in the search for flip-flops and sandalsjust a few months ago – but now drawn out and greeted againas old friends.The air… Read.

  • Surviving on bara brith and wishful thinking

    Wales in October can be just lovely -strong winds perhaps and sharp showersbut interludes of sunshinethat take your breath away.Then coming home to lemsip and a new dependency on daytime tv, the rough edges of cancelled plans.I try to feel,to think “What next?”I miss the hills and the sunsets,shoes caked in wet sand,the waves that… Read.

  • On the train home from London

    I am fascinated by nostalgia. As CS Lewis wrote in his book The Weight of Glory, a person managing to travel back to a time long ago, whose memory was very sweet, “would not have found the thing itself, but only the reminder of it.” In German the word ‘sehnsucht’ sums up this sense of… Read.

  • No man is an island

    I was thinking earlier about the fabled granting of three wishes, by such creatures as genies or fairy godmothers, and it got me wondering what would I do if it ever happened to me? Perhaps it’s best that it doesn’t. It’s also why I’d never want to win the lottery…. If I had a lamp,… Read.

  • Navenby

    Our lovely first home together. Too small for a growing family, and in need of many renovations, but dearly loved and remembered. I think the many dreams and the continued longing come from the fact that we had to move away – and that it was with a brand new baby. Rather traumatic perhaps, but… Read.

  • Pinball machine

    I am quite bad at following schedules, unless there are consequences to not doing. The children get to school on time, I get to appointments on time, but regular posting on this blog is patchy and without any real pattern. My energies and inspiration seem to go in fits and starts, and I have lately… Read.

  • Burden

    Can I touch your shoulder?Show you that I care?Our little lives brushSo closely by one another – Our heartbreaks pass so nearThey can hear each other breatheBut they do not speakExcept in tearsOr tired facesHeld up by a desire To manage somehowAnd not be a burdenBut you are not a burdenLet me walk beside youFellow… Read.

  • Read us again

    Is it escapismto take down from the shelf againthat old classic that you love – turning the dog-eared pages with that familiar anticipation?Is it merely comfort-seeking to watchtime after timethe film that is so brim-full of lovelinessthat you weep againand something in you is healed for a moment?I think it is a wish for the… Read.

  • A love letter to the socially awkward

    Hello you,sitting at the back, in case you are suddenly overwhelmed,I’d like to let you know thatI see you.Not in a starey, make-you-freak-out-and-leave-even-soonerkind of way,or in a Sauron and the seeing stones that Pippin picked up when he shouldn’t have kind of way,I mean – it’s ok.You don’t feel like you’re properly “in”, you have… Read.

  • After school drop-off

    Hiding in my car after school drop-offI’m sure I’m not alone in thisI’ve raced around making breakfastsAnd lunches and drinksFinding PE kits and art bagsHairbrushes, toothbrushesSocks, ties and pantsAnd now you are all set and goneI blow a kiss after you – Since people are near who might see -And I sitNow I have time… Read.

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