Natalie Williams

I warn you now, I might gush…
So, many many moons ago, when faces were fresh, and tummys always seemed to be growling – there was a girl a year or so older than me in school – Natalie –  who had a knack with language. She was always scribbling stories, plays, poems and songs for school assemblies (but was also cool, rather than try-hard), and had wild hair, and a mad crazy laugh that would follow you down the corridor! Despite the near insurmountable obstacle that was our age gap, we became good chums, and it was disappointing to lose touch after I left Zimbabwe, though to be fair, that happened more often than not!
Over a decade later, and several moves across continents and time zones, we reconnected via that wonderful facespace website, and had a catch up. Turns out that Natalie was just about to publish her first collection of poems, and become a proper adult with a career and everything!
Her poetry is imaginative, fantastical, and evocative of a bygone era, when poetry was meant to be escapist as well as capture a specific theme and/or commentry. I bought the book, partly as a friend-favour and partly coz I do actually quite like poetry, and I quite like fantasy so the described mix seemed appealing. I didn’t expect to be quite as affected as I was – its amazing how well written passages can evoke feelings about shared experiences despite the passage of the years.

Since then, well it seems that the only direction she knows is up!

Please find below, one of Natalie’s poems. (We have permission to post an exclusive at some point…but as that will involve me typing it out, I’m going to hold that one back for a special occasion :P)

To Home
When I look at you;
I think of home.
Memories of twisted surf
and splashing cliffs.
Black rocks mottled with grey
splashes of organic paint.
Soot soul driven
by winds and hurricane.
Driving home in darkness.
Hot lemonade summers;
red with raspberries and cream.
What a lovely dream
it is to look at you.
When I think of you;
I look at home.
Coconut coloured eyes,
eyelashes lifting
and drooping
with shy.
Nude pink hills; your hips are
mountains I climb with fingered wishes,
and flowered lilac kisses.
When you smile secret ideas
lift with the lines your glasses
End pecked on your nose
Chocolate threads your hair is knitted;
entertained by your wit.
When I look at home; I look at you.
I am there again.
With you.
And, not to get all pushy and stuff, but if you fancy having a more indepth look, check out her offerings on Amazon:

Theodore in November

Daydreams in Mermaid Glass


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