I’ll Be There In A Minute, Now
The inside of this cupboard
is not as dark as it looks
from the outside.
It’s not exactly warm
yet very comforting.
Not womb-like in the slightest.
More of a temporary escape,
like climbing up into the attic
or down into the cellar.
It’s just that today
this was closer.
We’re having dinner at her mother’s.
I’ll be late at this rate.
I can hear her getting
out of the bath and calling me.
I greedily clasp to the last
few precious moments of calm
and solitude.
I shall say that I was
looking for a shoe,
or give some other reasonable excuse.
Anything
but the truth.
© Paul Tristram 2005
Published in Moodswing, Issue Fifteen, Spring 2005
In Between Medication
She pulled the matchstick
across the side of the matchbox
with a wrist slashing flourish.
Tentatively traversed
her mental situation
more than once or twice,
exhaled and decided
upon corned beef hash
for dinner.
But alas, things went wrong
between the cigarette and her goal,
she cried rivers of anguish
and still does
in between medication
and still no one cares.
The corned beef hash
and metal cutlery
will have to wait.
© Paul Tristram 2006
Published in The Ugly Tree, #16 / Vol. 6:1, Oct 2007 – Jan 2008
Sitting On The Sands Of Rebellion
With My Back To The Waves Of Longing
With My Back To The Waves Of Longing
I will not be pushed
or swayed either way,
my past is a testament to this.
Water grinds down rock
but I am human
constantly moving and changing,
riding the winds,
drinking the rain
and dancing to the rhythm
of my own wild heart.
To label me is cowardice,
to mistrust me is right,
my voice is match to sandpaper
the touch paper of defiance I ignite.
© Paul Tristram 2008
Published in Decanto, 36th Issue, August 2008
Paul Tristram is a Welsh writer who has poems, short stories and sketches published in many publications around the world, he yearns to tattoo porcelain bridesmaids instead of digging empty graves for innocence at midnight, this too may pass, yet.
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