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.