Paul Tristram- Three Poems

Sun Shower

I see people running from raindrops
shrieking into shop doorways.
Holding folded newspapers
above their heads to protect
their gelled and perfumed hair.
Trying to keep their expensive clothing
safe from a few precious drops of rain
on a beautiful, warm and glorious day?
Amazed and disheartened once again
at the stupidity of my race
I turn and walk away with a slightly
sun shower sprinkled frown upon my face.

© Paul Tristram 2014

Turnip Lobotomy

There was a crash against the outside door,
it opened and he sloped in 3 steps, unsteadily
then collapsed onto the kitchen floor
in a drunken heap.
She gave an alarmed cry
and raced around the kitchen table,
pulled him up expertly
and almost threw him into a nearby chair.
Shouting
“I’ve told you I’ve put cushions down
in the shed for you.
I don’t want the kids to see you
as drunk as this, why don’t you ever listen?”
She walked back to her giant stew pot
muttering under her breath
and continued chopping onions and leeks.
He opened up one eye and slurred
“Tis my house!”
“It’s a council house, you idiot!” she replied
sharply, giving him a warning
with daggers for eyes.
He lifted up his right foot slightly
and then slammed it back down
which was the usual signal
that he was about to spew forth
a tirade of abusive swearing.
Her face took on a murderous hue,
she grabbed for the football sized swede
off the table in front of her
and raised it above her head screaming
“I’ve told thee about cussin’
in front of the little ‘uns,
until I’m blue in the face, damn it all!”
It hit him with a massive smack
on the bridge of the nose and forehead,
breaking the former
and knocking him out cold, instantly.
As she went to clean up the blood
she shooed us out into the back garden
where we played conkers
and left them to their un-marital bliss.

© Paul Tristram 2014

Objection Over Rules

 

KEEP OFF THE GRASS
GET OFF MY LAND
PRIVATE PROPERTY KEEP OUT
TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED.

You see these signs everywhere!
I’m not talking about damaging
property, fences, gates or trees
or upsetting farm animals or wildlife
and the countryside in general.
I am actually Pro-Nature,
the more we have of it the better
in my book.
But you can be arrested for simply walking,
for taking a left turn through a field
over to a thicket of trees.
Try telling whoever catches you
that you were trying to get a closer look
at the pair of Jays (Quite a beautiful sight!)
that you just saw flying in there.
You will be called a liar
or deemed insane upon the spot.
When I was around 14 years old
I ran full sprint down an almost vertical
hillside in The Vale Of Neath
jumping rocks and dodging trees.
With 2 pockets of my Crombie coat
stuffed with magic mushrooms
(They are perfectly legal in this form,
it is not until you juice or dry them
that they become otherwise!)
and I jumped off the bank at the bottom
and landed in the middle of the lane.
There was a man standing there
and he exclaimed something religious,
he then proceeded to tell me
that if I had landed on him at that speed
and from a 15ft drop, I’d have killed him.
I just smiled and told him
that it was a good job that I hadn’t then.
He then informed me that he owned
the bus depot over to the left of him
and the entire hillside behind it.
I told him that the hillside was merely
the gateway to the 30 miles of canyons
and mountain ranges above and behind it.
He said he knew nothing of all this
because he had never in fact been up there
but he owned the hillside insight, all of it!
I asked him what he did with his hillside
because it looked like any other
old hillside with trees in Wales?
He let me know that it was none of my business
but that he did nothing with it
because he didn’t have to do anything with it,
he owned it and that was enough!
Also, if he ever caught me upon it again
he would call the police
and have me arrested.
I smiled and assured him
that he would never catch me
upon his hillside again
and being a man of my word
he never has
although he came very close, twice!

© Paul Tristram 2013



Paul Tristram is a Welsh writer who has poems, short stories, sketches and photography 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.