Tuesday, August 25, 2015

Paul Tristram- Three Poems

Majestic Waves Of Wonder

Those feelings
sparked by
that caressing touch.
Like dungeon doors
bursting open,
deep in the
heart and soul.
It flows within,
wave after wave
of stuttering,
goose bumped love.
Emotional scales
and rebalancing.
Passion easily storming
the inner protective walls,
now useless
under this gentle
and caring attack.
Kisses picking locks
and the shuddering warmth
is like almost
touching freedom.
As you sheet-grip
like a cringing,
demented avalanche.
Knowing that both
release and surrender
are sometimes
the most beautiful
things to be done.

© Paul Tristram 2015


We were sat on a dinner break
and he picked up a bit of old rope
from the floor and made a noose.
A proper one just like the cowboy
films and the Highwaymen stories.
We were all intrigued and slightly
impressed so he pulled it apart
and made it all over again, slowly
so we could all mentally take note.

“You just loop this like this,
wrap that like that and then
do this…it’s really quite simple!”

We all smiled together like idiots.

“You learn something new every day!”
exclaimed one of my friends cheerfully.

“You never know when it’ll come in handy?”
said another friend with a chuckle.

They both put what they had learnt
that day into practice within five years,
one from a tree up in the woods
and the other in a shabby rented room
in a dosshouse in Neath Town Centre.

Of course, they probably would have
done it a different way anyway
but I’ll never teach that rope trick to anyone.

© Paul Tristram 2015

Taking Positivity To A Ridiculous Level

He walked in out of the rain
and stood at the end of the bar
sipping the head off the top
of the first drink of the day
next to the only other patron
in The Open Wrist Tavern.
“I must be the unluckiest man alive!”
he stated matter-of-factly,
in the general direction of the stranger,
whilst wiping the froth moustache
from his top lip with a shaking hand.
“My Missus left me for my Ex-Wife,
she took everything except the dog
and I hate that flea-ridden thing.
Ran out of electric two weeks later
because I was out on the lash
trying to get my head around it all.
Lit a candle and the house burnt down,
well half of it anyway, Jesus Christ,
I’m lucky to be alive the paramedics said
I told them they were taking the piss.
I’ve been sleeping under a bridge
down by the canal, just look at me,
I’m wearing painter & decorator
overalls I stole off a washing line,
and I’m a out of work bricklayer.
I tried hanging myself three nights ago
and the bloody rope snapped,
then threw myself in the river
but just drifted downstream so far
that I had blisters on top of blisters
walking miles to get back here again.
I’d weep but the last time I did that
they threw me out of the pub I was in.
I’d go home but I’m not allowed
because I’m a living, breathing
reminder to my parents why they
hate each other so God Damned much.
I got arrested for urinating in public
when I’d only pissed myself asleep,
they gave me a £60 fine, I can’t pay it
so they’re threatening me with 28 days
in jail instead, you can’t make this up?
I only have one enemy in the world,
bullied me relentlessly since nursery
and he’s in there running the prison.
I tried praying an hour before I got here,
I looked up to the sky and begged
for mercy…that’s why it started raining!”

“Never mind, it could be worse,
you might not have that gorgeous pint
in front of you and I saw you paying
with a tenner, that’s two more after that!”
spoke the stranger sagely in between tears
after belly laughing for a minute or so
then calling the barkeep back over said
“I was depressed so I came here
to try and cheer myself up a bit
and after listening to this poor guys woes
I feel lucky, privileged and ecstatic.
It’s hard not to take positivity
to a ridiculous level around him,
please, give him anything he wants, twice!”

© 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 http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1326241036
And also read his poems and stories here! http://paultristram.blogspot.co.uk/

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