Paul Tristram’s three poems


Turned A Corner


I stopped looking for

‘distant shorelines’

… instead,

I started building

myself a (portable)

… ‘Paradise’…

as I meandered,

one dedicated

footstep at a time,

away from places,

people and things

… not ‘serving’ or

‘nourishing’ my soul.

Future Ripples


You are alive and breathing,

you have your health,

and a soul that is unbreakable.

Closing a chapter, bravely,

without a single tear

or complaint,

you traversed the desert

which lies between

things/worlds/phases…

and stepped out

fire-hardened in spirit,

but, smiling and wiser,

rather than angry and bitter.

And now, here you stand,

upon the gentle hillside

of A New Dawn…

the possibilities,

and opportunities are endless.

The horizon is full to the brim

with unfamiliar faces,

as yet untread pathways,

and new connections

waiting to blossom and bond

into Springtime friendships.

Feel those future ripples…

caress their excited way

into your day,

and step forward towards it all…

Out Of The Arms Of Autumn


‘In An Ideal World’ is juvenile

… this ‘Life’ is Fluid not Static.

We are walking along ‘Corridors’

between ‘Chapters’

when not actually inside of them.

‘Alone’ is where you declutter

and process the ‘Knots’

back out into Straight Lines.

I never Distract from Darkness,

there is a Depth to Learn there,

providing you remember to Leave

in between the different Lessons.

To remain in a Contented State,

is as useless to your Soul

as a perpetual Cloak of Depression.

The Mundane and the Monotonous

are your Real Enemies…

they’ll sap the Life

right out from your eager Bones.

You cannot Love truly

without both Gamble and Pain

… to Deny yourself Experience

is to become a self-made Prisoner

Blind to all incoming Opportunity.

It is Impossible to Step

out of the Arms of Autumn…

straight into the Heart of Spring

… there is always a Wintertime,

to Bow your Head through First.


Paul Tristram is a Welsh writer who has poems and short stories 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.

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