Friday, January 29, 2016

Three Poems by Paul Tristram

Her Heart is a Derelict Playground

Where the swings are now only used
by the ghosts of memory.
Who would have thought
that building a wall
would leave you feeling so
cold, lonely and vulnerable
to the real enemy . . . Yourself?
There's a boarded up candy shop close by,
the once bright colors are faded
to something resembling nicotine stains.
It's hard to view without wincing,
so wince she must,
which keeps the "cringing" company at least.
That "hurt" doesn't heal with isolation,
it merely festers into a soul shadow.
Dark thoughts multiply by the counting,
spite, meanness follows "not letting go"
and masochistic self-righteousness
is the sure way of keeping you
stuck and squirming inside that hole.

The One That Got Away . . . Can Stay Away!

To be genuinely happy to be who you are,
where you are and with whom you are with
at this very point in life is two fists full
of Luck & Chance, "straight as an arrow" Fate
and a thousand hurricanes of Magic
all focused in upon on exact point and principle.
You've reached the sumMIT of something important,
the woes and troubles that dogged your footsteps
were needed, you've faced down every struggle,
survived each enemy, learning and growing
stronger with each "hard knock" lesson.
Emerging scarred but magnificently Triumphant!
take a breather (You've Earned It!)
smile and feel proud of yourself,
you are on the right path at last
and exactly where you need to be.
The stepping stones are aligned and ready
for the next part of the journey, Soldier . . . Well done.

Closing Doors Behind You is the Way Forward

Unless you want to sit in a room alone,
drinking into the small hours
talking dumbly into the past?
You've lived in bedsits,
you've seen it time and time again.
Broken men and women . . . given up on life.
Remember that computer guy who lived upstairs?
Cried himself to sleep every night pathetically
like an eight year old girl for months,
six other rented rooms listening to him.
Come to terms with your past,
lay it to bed and walk on from it.
Learn from your mistakes and forgive yourself,
you're still breathing and that's all that counts.
Strike off in a new direction,
you'll do better this time, you're wiser now.
Baby steps and small potatoes . . .
just being up and moving is winning.
You don't need to be lost like they are,
open up those metaphoric curtains
and let the sun back into your life . . .
it's good to see you emerging out the other side.

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 at  You can also read his poems and stories here!

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