POETRY: POEMS FROM THE PIT BY PAUL TRISTRAM

I am not going to be writing

any ‘poetry from the pit’ today.

I am exactly one month sober

and the sun is SHINING

like a cartoon, seaside postcard.

I am going to eat

a chicken and ham sandwich,

walk the dogs down

by the wooded stream

and watch my daughter

crawling and dancing

to ‘The Princess and the Frog’.

Then I’m going to lay

and daydream awhile

about a Leprechaun with toothache,

the Donkey who shocked his kind

by becoming a builder of rowing boats.

The Apple Pickers general strike of 1472

and Hot Air Balloon Jousting Tournaments

(Which only tortoises have the patience

to watch, and even then, only the ones

beyond their 30th birthday, obviously!)

After that, I’m going to play the harmonica

until I’m completely blue in the face,

I hope that your day pans out for you too

whoever you are and wherever you may be.

Written by Paul Tristram

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