Saturday, September 3, 2022

3 Poems by Paul Tristram

 

Uneven Condiments

[BLAST Furnace]
endeavours 
. . . allow no
'small fry'
Entrance Points.
We're Back
from 'Farewells'
. . . and,
confused as to 
Pecking Orders,
Seating
Arrangements,
and Genuine,
seamless layering.
I confess . . . 
to giving Nothing
. . . away . . . 
but Taking
both Swiftly
and Carefully
with eyes lowered.



Draconian Waiting Room

You have lied . . .
your Heart
tastes Burgundy
. . . not Black.
You are full
. . . of Pause
not . . . Hollow.
Your Control
. . . is not Cold,
but Ladylike
when viewed
. . . Correctly.
I feel your
[withheld]
Embrace
. . . hovering,
tantalizingly
. . . almost,
just nearly, there.
And I await
. . . like
'Tomorrow
looking 
backwards
in Anticipation'
. . . for your
[Hidden] hand
to findally
be . . . Revealed.



Anticipation (. . . To Shadow)

When a Soul seeks out Light,
it steps first
from Dark to Shadow.
Waiting to Blossom,
the Aura vibrates,
and the Glass of the Heart,
now switched
to Half-Full,
for a change . . . 
beats musically,
and more Determined.
Ready for Experience,
any (once) Chains
which bound and trapped
the Moods and Spirit . . . 
disintegrate.
The Mantle of Sorrow
becomes Wings of Expectancy,
and a Fresh Journey
is only moments from Beginning.




Paul Tristram is a widely published, Welsh writer, who's currently up to his elbows in Magic, and long may it remain this way.




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