Poetry Website

Life can often throw a sucker punch,
sometimes crippling blows
come along like buses… three in a row.
Absolutely everyone hits the floor,
there is nothing unique or shameful in falling,
it’s the getting back up wiser that counts.
The real secret is to bounce back brighter each time,
get in a few jabs of spontaneity of your own.
Do something different regularly, go places new,
comfort zones are for recharging batteries
not camping in… where’s the adventure in that?
Laugh at the strange and ridiculous,
never let fear guide you to nowhere.
You’re full of life, possibility and magic
get out there in that big wide world and enjoy it.
Collect memories not grudges,
don’t follow others unless they’re going your way
and may your way be vast and multiplied by many.

More at http://paultristram.blogspot.co.uk/.

As a child
dreams were of crumbling ruins, matchless in Greece and Rome,
travelogues of the home
the clash of the sword the word of god, dreams were a river, the
Tiber, Romulus and Rome, a mind quiver
the empire and Charlemagne’s home
the myth of Sisyphus, Hector’s modus, the vulnerable heel, all like
the keel, it hovered wavered. History phased into phantom, dark and
bright,
inner light, the world mine.
I mimed, chimed.
Dreams not Jungian, not Freudian. Only livid, vivid.
Metaphors of dark horses,
meditative Norses.
History shuttled, opened and closed. Me, daydreaming.
One day put on all shutters, broke gates, threw them
into an abyss of gutters.