Right Now, The Other Side Of The Severn Bridge
She’s shy about her freckles
… which is absurd,
because they prettify
her gorgeousness…
and make me teenager-dizzy.
To hold her calming
yet excited hand
as we shoreline walk…
a-smiling and a-courting,
like a couple out of a book,
a movie, a daydream…
is so absolutely perfect
… that previously unfelt
‘Emotions’ appear, and Win.
I’m Far Too Bumblebee Busy For All That
And ‘Deliverance’ is to be snatched
with your own hands…
wait on no one!
Put me at the front of a queue,
and I will walk away…
I’m not an option, a maybe,
I’m everything or nothing at all.
“I built this alone”
are some of the proudest words
that I have ever spoken.
‘Games’ don’t work on me…
you’re only going to reel me in
with consistent energy
and straightforward intentions.
I’m carving new map pathways,
and chiselling my former
(inner) self like a Sculptor…
bringing alive ‘Form’ from Fracture.
One More Mile Together
An autumn afternoon countryside walk
with my dearest…
and I start shedding the city’s
clinging toxicity… in minutes.
We were born to be slaves
to ‘time’ only
… everything else is temporary
necessity: ‘hand to mouth’,
‘shelter and sustenance’…
physically, mentally, spiritually
and, last but not least, emotionally.
The daily rush and grind
of ‘modern living’
oftentimes makes one forget
… that healthy friendship,
wholesome love and affection
and unique experience,
combined with soul-growth
and lessons-learnt…
are the ‘real reasons’ any of us are here.
Rock Solid (Top To Bottom And All The Way Through)
A swift ‘through-breeze’
stirred me out
of contemplation…
and mountains
… trembled…
at the courage
of my conviction.
I have witnessed
‘inconsistency’
in other people…
and it makes me frown.
I’m either involved
or I’m not… once
my mind’s made up,
I’m not backing down
until I’ve actually
crossed the finishing line.
Notches And Pivots To Find You
Rummaging your yearning, desperate fingers
around in amongst memory bones
… is not going to breathe life back
into anything… except your suffering.
That ‘Glide’ you covet so much
comes from skill, and that skill
comes from experience… it’s all process.
You do not ‘wait your turn’,
you ‘await the opportunity’… to strike!
I described, by whispering in her shell-like,
the salty breeze air around a West Wales
beach rock pond, whilst the sound
of dog pawprints scampered the wet sand
… and she smiled so beautifully,
that I made enemies of everyone else present.
About the Author
Paul Tristram is a widely published Welsh writer. He yearns to tattoo porcelain bridesmaids instead of digging empty graves for innocence at midnight; this too may pass, yet. His novel “Crazy Like Emotion” is published by Close To The Bone. Short story collection “Kicking Back Drunk ‘Round The Candletree Graves”, and full-length poetry collections “It Is Big And It Is Clever”, “South Wales Outlaw”, “The Gutter Symposium”, “The Dark Side Of British Poetry”, “Uncivil Disobedience Is My Forte” and “Half A Long Century Of Anarchy, Bedlam, Chaos And Deplorably-Depraved Decadence” are all published by Hunsbury Press.
