Monday, May 2, 2016

Paul Tristram- Three Poems

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.
Buy his books ‘Scribblings Of A Madman’ (Lit Fest Press)

‘Poetry From The Nearest Barstool’ at

And a split poetry book ‘The Raven And The Vagabond Heart’ with Bethany W Pope
You can also read his poems and stories here!

Runny Fried Egg Sandwich

His marriage is on the rocks,
She’s building up the courage to leave him.
He knows this not by the arguments,
there are none, neither of them likes confrontation.
Nor by the icy, cold silences
because they are both quiet people
and lost in their own little worlds generally.
It’s simply by the contents of his packed lunch!
There is only one sort of sandwich filling
which he cannot abide and that is of the egg variety.
(Any kind of egg and in any sort of form!)
But a runny fried egg sandwich with all that white,
sperm looking stuff on it…gives him the Horrors!
She’s been palming him off with this monstrosity
for the last three weeks now…Jesus Christ?
He doesn’t even open them anymore,
simply peers timidly through the carrier bag wrapping
at the pool of mucus collecting at the bottom.
Then hands them to the Homeless Guy
who sits next to the top cash machine on Fore Street.
Then plods wearily off to work
trying not to entertain thoughts of the bigger picture
whilst whistling and humming sarcastically
“It’s in his kiss…that’s where it is!”

© Paul Tristram 2016

Millions & Millions & Millions Of Lies

“She’s as two-faced as an hatchet
and twice as dangerous to be around.
There are honest people our age
suffering alone and friendless everywhere
yet, she’s always surrounded by people.
Apprentice sycophants and fearful cowards
but energy and activity all the same.
They say the Devil looks after his own!
She’s got her fingers in many pies
and most of them not of her own baking.
Nothing ever quite illegal enough to matter
(Apart from that one time that she got off with?)
On Benefits and not 2 halfpennies to rub together
yet, you wouldn’t know it to see her out
spending like a rock star most days of the week.
Aye, there’ll be a massive turn-out
when they finally bury that old witch
and she won’t be going into that ground alone.
Oh no, she’ll be wrapped up in all those lies
she’s used to keep herself warm and safe
whilst still alive and rubbing our faces in it!”

© Paul Tristram 2015

You Can’t Have Light Without Dark (And Vice Fucking Versa!)

 “Shaz, why do you do this to yourself, eh?
I spent hours on the ‘dog & bone’
getting you that work placement sorted out
and you said that you liked it,
potting plants in that Nursery,
all by yourself most of the day.
And the Flat, you understand how difficult
that was, the Council won’t even let you into
their office reception area never mind a Tenancy.
What with having no references,
the ‘Violence Is Violence’ tattoo on your bloody face
and the fact that you’ve been part of that School of Drunks
outside of the train station for a couple of years
and everyone knows you for all the wrong reasons.
I managed to find you a nice, quiet place
right by the side of the woods,
with an understanding Landlord
who even agreed to let you have a cat.
(It’s marked down in my diary
to take you next Thursday afternoon
to the Perranarworthal Cat Shelter!)
And what do you go and do?
Invite your Mother around (Of all people?)
and 24 hours later you’ve gone back to the dark side
and everything that we’ve worked so hard for is now rubble.
You’ve breached your Court Order on 3 counts,
they’ll be serving warrant’s on those ASAP.
Look, stay away from the city centre over the weekend,
I’ll reshuffle the cards and speak to you on Monday, stay safe!”

© Paul Tristram 2015

1 comment:

  1. A witty poet from Wales on exploring hallmarks of relationships of a poet not embarrassed by censorship.