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

Become Louder

(Gatling)… Squalls
… Frown eases 
as ‘Sour’ not 
only becomes
‘Familiar’ 
but… ‘Sweeter’.
All Hail 
The Overcomer
… Standing
Strong and 
Keened… Razor.
To face Head-On 
Life’s ‘Karmic 
Armada’
… and GRIT still
a Path of Destiny...
there is no Faking
a man’s Courage
inside of… Battle.
The Broadsiders
glee is temporary
… cowards
create ‘Obstacles’
and light ‘Fires’…
but, Win NO Wars.

The Lighthouse Keeper Who Died Twice

The Blackest waves come in Winter
… and the varying shades of GREY
number so many,
as to, often times, leave you speechless.
The ‘Charcoals’ signify 
thoughtful melancholia,
‘Slate’ is freedom just out of reach…
‘Dishwater’ apathy and stagnation,
‘Wire Wool’ mental confusion,
whilst ‘Owl Chick’ grey is Loneliness.
Dark Green slashes violently
… and the Rain stopped
falling downwards, in a straight direction,
the very moment
that I Murdered myself with naïve Hope.
A sudden gust of wind could take you,
if channelled from the side,
and I am teetering, almost blindly,
upon the razor-sharp Edge
of three more, significant, months, alone.