Poems and Poetry

hope poems

Alone in a Room | A Poem by Guy Farmer

Alone in a room,
Wondering if anything
He’s done has any value,
Whether his decisions
Have all been mistakes,
Despondency his companion,
Inner comfort unreachable,
Questioning everything that
Has transpired in his life,
A sense that nothing will
Ever go right because it
Never has before,
He gets up and leaves.

Without You I Am Everything | A Poem by Paul Tristram

Boundary walls and prison fences
crumbled down and fell apart.
The Gothic Chapel
which was forever preaching
‘Doom’ and ‘Gloom’
and its ‘Woe, Woe & Thrice Woe’
took down its dusty old, heavy curtains
and opened up the stained-glass windows
for a Spring-clean jumble sale.
I noticed beautiful, multi-coloured
wild flowers popping up everywhere
in the once shadowy graveyard.
Song birds reappeared
from their long, Winter migration.
The orchards once more became bountiful,
not quite overnight,
yet quick enough for wonderment.
There was nothing for it but to eat fresh fruit,
instead of doubt and humble pie for a change.
I dared look at my own reflection, un-timidly,
and saw that my eyes once more had colour.
The Land’s currency was ‘Smiles’
and no kindness or act of good faith
was ever too much trouble
and always rewarded three-fold.
But, best of all… the Clocks,
returned to a proper, functioning speed, at last.

Visit Paul at https://paultristram.blogspot.co.uk/.

Nowhere Near the Bottom | A Poem by Paul Tristram

‘It’s taken me years to get this far’
she thought to herself,
as she stopped upon a thin, narrow shelf.
Just over two-thirds up
the darkened pit
she had naively let herself drop into.
‘The Falling’ had seemed to take forever,
there had been a ‘Splash’
followed by a ‘Crunch’
Scars had formed and broken bones
painfully knitted back together, slowly,
in those first delirious, wretched months.
The ascent did not get any easier,
you just became more in tune
and accustomed to your surroundings,
the further you reached upwards
towards the circular ‘God-Like’ light.
The nooks and crannies were treacherous,
yet exhilarating, the more height she gained.
And three weeks ago, or there about,
she had felt the breeze spiral down
onto her grey, parchment face again
and cried tears of another kind for a change…
a wonderful, hopeful, heart-swelling change.
It is the straggling ‘Hanging Ivy’
which she is now focused upon,
dangling but days out of fingertip reach…
as we leave her to her strength and struggle,
a survivor Lost yet not waiting to be Found.

Visit Paul at https://paultristram.blogspot.co.uk/.