Included below are some of Will's favourite poetic compositions. He has thousands of poems and has been writing and performing for over 35 years.

Enjoy what is here and come back once in a while. Will promises to change things up from time to time.


rain in Montreal
2005 By Will Webster


rained all day in Montreal
its midnight now
the clouds have cleared
and the city hugs Mount Royal
like a child just out of the tub

Leaving Montreal
2005 by Will Webster
been wandering the city for hours
don't know what else to do
feel like someone in my family died
they're all still breathing

its sad how things turned out
but i could not stay where i was not wanted
my only regret is i can't stay in this city
i'd love to spend some weeks here. . .

soaking up the culture
getting to know the place
its women, the cafes and parks
the busy streets with their rythm and noise
this strange fluid language
with words that run into each other
until the syllables are indistinguishable
one from the other
this city so full of sexuality
even the pigeons are fornicating

but i am a man of the hills
who perfers the outdoors
and longs to sleep beneath the stars
to swim in clear mountain lakes
and build strong personal relationships
with trees and river valleys
i never was a city boy

i want to stay only because this city is different
it is amusing,  not all the same
the strip malls have not stolen the energy
from the downtown core

i want to stay in this city
because it is alive
in ways i've never seen a city
alive before

i want to stay
but its time to go

America's role models
c. 2006 by Will Webster
a kid and i were talking politics
he said because i wasn't quoting a book
i didn't have a valid point

he was arguing that America won world war 2
i was saying no, Hitler lost it

he was educated in Ontario
by professors who spend their vacations in Florida
they were tainted by their own bias
and so was he

America stands for America
it looks out for number one
and in America
America is number one

and all the other surfs and sinners
and the others should want to be
American

and America will never be defeated
America will never fail
America is always good and just
to Americans

and i don't blame America
like the kid accused me of
afterall, America has no role models
except Babylon, Rome and Britain

there is no practical example
the trail has yet to be blazed
freedom justice and equality
have never existed

and they don't exist today, anywhere
not even in America
just before the crash
2005 by Will Webster
its all a bunch of psycho babble
some sort of cosmic haze
that rests upon my shoulders
and fogs my brain
to think that i need company
to survive the driving rain

but the rumble of those engines
when they roll up close and tight
sends panic through my bloodstream
and fear right down my spine
face plant
2005 by Will Webster
face plant at 25 K an hour
was making good time
had wind and all kinds of energy
felt the front end shutter
heard the semi on my tail
saw the gravel coming
tried to stop it with my hands
laid down feeling whiplashed
picking small stones from my face


disappointment
2005 by Will Webster

disappointment billows from expectation
broken heart   open door
pick yourself up off the floor
you aim too high   fall so low
expecting something different
but it always is the same
because . . . disappointment billows from expectation

expect the best from people
they always let you down
expect a little dignity
you find there's none around

its not like the Yogis claim
expectation will always be around
if you not expecting something
then why are you hanging around

here's a little secret
we'd like to share with you
if you expect the worst
you may be pleasantly surprised

because. . .
disappointment doesn't always have to
billow from expectation

somewhere an old poet
2006 by Will Webster

somewhere in my history there is an old poet
with long white hair and a wizard's beard
he has a quilled pen in his right hand
with his own blood he scratches verse
on the rock that is my gene

through every vein and artery
from my itchy feet through my troubled heart
to my inquisitive hungry mind
that old man dictates to me
these symbols on white paper
this art that so becomes me

that old poet has learned to carry the whole world
on his fingertips
he feels for every living thing
and sees deep into the darkness
though he is fragile as a sapling with no soil to hold its root
he can be bent into a bow or quivered like a string

but he moves just like an arrow
swift and smooth, straight and right on target
yet mostly he just sits alone
unnoticed and unmissed
a quilled pen in his right hand
scrawling in my own blood
that poem that is me


smile too
2005 by Will Webster

this event is just a hang out excuse
a place to mingle
to sit on the grass and chill
while the city rushes around

a place to get lucky
if your smile works
if not,
a place to find your bubble again
and climb safely back inside it
just in time for dinner



Ottawa song
2005 by Will Webster

i'm sitting with the squirrels on the hillside
finally free of Montreal
now i'm passing time beneath the peace tower
waiting for the midnight bus
i'm moving west again
going back where I belong

some folks have roots that keep them here
mine were transplanted long ago
i'm the gypsy seed that blew from the tree
in search of fertile ground
my origins no longer count for much
its where i am today that matters
i'm in Ottawa, waiting for the bus

of water blood is thicker
but blood is made of water
it doesn't matter who your family are
its your freinds who really count
and i've yet to find a friend among my kin
some find that fact depressing
but i don't see it as a negative
its just the way it is

so here i am in my nations capital
this country full of gypsy seed
spawned from every region fo the globe
our dominion from ever race, religion and happenstance
how fitting i would be here
at this moment in my life

it will stand a poignant reminder
for however long i live
that my real family resides
along the waters of this land
and it is to  this nation i must turn
when i'm looking for my friends

i'm in Ottawa, waiting for a bus
feeling somewhat patriotic
and little more than grateful
to be right where i am
in Canada
a gyspy seed on fertile ground

what i'm thinking
2006 by Will Webster

a little girl with a flowered headress and a smile that won't be denied
hands you her suicide bomb
you've an instant left to live
what are you thinking

the driver of your limosine
who is somehow related to your mother
loses control at 120 fishtailing across the freeway
with a moment left to live
what are you thinking

i am lost in this emotional jungle where every thought comes back
every feeling is recreated and every deed repeated
i have no thought but to escape though i'm bound beyond unravelling
i've a moment left to live
what am i thinking

darkness has fallen since i took to writing
i've found no answers and far too many questions
the world is in a nose dive and everyone is screaming
with a moment left to live
i can't hear what i'm thinking

the prodigal bother (no, that's not a typo!)
2006 by Will Webster

five hours of stoney silence
i can't give him any more
he shut me down
now he wants me to speak
what am i to say

have it your way
never talk about anything important
just pack it all away
let it smother in the humid air
of some motel room

room after room
town after town
until the years go by
and we get around to wondering
whatever happened to my brothers
whatever happened to my sisters
whatever became of my blood family
and where are they today

then again
what's the point
nothing ever changes
it comes down to stoney silence
closing doors
and nothing left to save

i'd say what i feel
but i'm too sad to speak

poem from a rainy interlude
2005 by Will Webster

child of wonder, child of flight
bearer of raw organic light
find me here in this mountainous hideaway
while there's still time to play




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