Saturday, June 6, 2015

Paul Tristram- Three Poems

Sometimes Words are Inadequate


© Paul Tristram 2007

Radio Rentals

“Don’t smile, this is the first and last time
I’m coming to visit you, this stretch.
I’ve stood by you through three sentences
before this one but you’re taking the piss, now.
You took the baby’s milk money,
I had to beg Debra in the shop
to let me have some on tick until giro day,
I am fucking humiliated, Jesus Christ!
Then you come back six hours later
and break into the coin box on the back
of the TV in front of the cowing kids.
The next day you come home
with that slimy bastard ‘Dai Fingers’
and carry the TV out on your shoulder
(I found out later you sold it for a fiver
in ‘The Colliers Arms’ in front of my cousin)
It’s not even ours, it’s a Radio Rentals,
we had to hide behind the sodding settee
when the bloke turned up to empty it.
I can’t live like this anymore and that’s that,
your daughter’s developed a stutter
and I’m having to push coal home by myself
on the bottom of the pram, it’s gonna break.
Use these two years to sort your head out, mun,
here eat your crisps and Kit Kat before I go.
I’ve got to get the Skewen bus at the Quadrant,
Beryl ‘round the corner’s come into money
and she’s letting us have her old armchair
unless that slag Susan gets in there first,
oh, I’ll kill her just mark my fucking words!”

© Paul Tristram 2015

Bad Old Days

I could not possibly enjoy my wonderful life right now,
to the extent that I do, without having experienced them.
I’m glad life gave me the bad news first
and the good news second, instead of the other way around.
When those emotions calm down you feel better
but when they totally dissolve altogether,
that’s the alchemy right there, you’ve passed a test.
That’s when you fully understand, learn from your mistakes,
see with clear eyes the wretchedness of some peoples souls
but that’s exactly where you stop thinking about it,
leave it all in the past where it belongs with the bad old days.
When life hands you lemons…you drink tequila shots!
just like you did with that Swedish Au Pair in a corner
pub somewhere in Soho on New Years Eve back in 1991.
You’ve moved up a level or three, you are wiser
and stronger now, your soul is focused, finely-tuned
and your mind is on fire with nothing but possibility.
Now you are ready for that Crunch, for that Skydive,
now you are ready to Shine like a Motherfucker, Completely!

© Paul Tristram 2015

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 book ‘Poetry From The Nearest Barstool’ at
And also read his poems and stories here!

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