The Barren Woman And The Tears Which Will Never Fill Her Emptiness by Paul Tristram

I was born to Dead-End!
A ‘Full Stop’ to an otherwise fertile line of ancestry.
A seedless apple
in a busy, blossoming orchard of growth and re-birth…
stuck inside my very own desert.
I can afford to buy the best perambulator in town,
but, will never actually need one…
that’s a lightning bolt to my pride and peace of mind
which I never fail to feel the terrible shock of.
I have stopped frequenting Public Parks
on warm, sunny afternoons… it’s simply torture.
Beaches, in the Summer months, give me soul-vertigo
and bring on desperate urges to self-harm…
the false gateway between my spiteful legs,
the quagmire of my futility, that bastard, impotent thing
which brings me pain instead of pleasure
which I can prune and piss through… but, never actually farm.

paul smoking - Copy

Paul Tristram is a Welsh writer who has poems, short stories, sketches and photography 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. Buy his books ‘Scribblings Of A Madman’ (Lit Fest Press) http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1943170096 ‘Poetry From The Nearest Barstool’ at http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1326241036 And a split poetry book ‘The Raven And The Vagabond Heart’ with Bethany W Pope at http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1326415204 You can also read his poems and stories here! http://paultristram.blogspot.co.uk/

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