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Sunday, 3 November 2013

Functions & Formulae

The sketches are of nothing more than a fading dream
A dream of motion and fluidity with a degree of symmetry

It could have been love calling
Love of mathematics; the logic of transposition or movement
Love of the circle; composite, complete and clear
Love of the rhythm; without a need for the word

The sketches are a gift, a presence
Given by return to and from the one who gave them
A peace offering to no one
No one other, than the no one of the self

Indeed it could have been love calling
Love of the lovers, the illogical lovers of love
Love of the fine and the dandy, love of the exquisitely vague
Love of low slung contemplations; love, floating in the air


Cut It - Love of Perfumed Grains of Dust
Christopher's Poetry collections can be found on iTunes and on Kindle by clicking the highlighted links

Saturday, 2 November 2013

Surround

Might I become part of this room
As settled as the cobwebs in its hallway
As much of the fabric as Neruda’s books on love
Or the songs of Norah Jones on the stereo

Might the flames of the fire flicker as I hold my breath
As warm as your comforting conversations
As joyous as that night of red wine and dancing
Or the studied view of the girl with pearl earring

Might the clock that doesn’t tick count down my hours
As regular as the morning light through the window
As repetitive as the flowers on the floral curtains
Or the words on the mantelpiece’s greeting cards

Might the ceiling and the alcoves be rectangular for a purpose
As if the straight lines should offer some guidance
As if the lack of symmetry should play its own joke
Or be a template for the chair and leather settee

Might rearranged bookshelves match my own sense of tidiness
As I remember to vacuum the carpet & polish the table
As I dust the perspex where once there was a long playing record
Where we used a industrial cleaning machine after the riotous party

Might the boxes of CDs be sorted and filed at random
As I scatter my own thoughts onto their echoes
As I am returned, to monasteries and dance-halls
Whispered to by the poets of your land & of Ireland

Cut It - Love of Perfumed Grains of Dust
Christopher's Poetry collections can be found on iTunes and on Kindle by clicking the highlighted links

Friday, 1 November 2013

Home Thoughts From A Broad

Where do letters sit
In the hierarchy or the continuum of our lives

If in that four AM correspondence
You had your eye on the main chance
Did the outcome you hoped for come to fruition

Is the letter a commencement of a two-way communication
Is it voyeuristic to look back on our own sensual words
To insinuate on other peoples most intimate writing

Are we out to show love, or care, or to set our stall out
Make the newly shared arrangements clear and unequivocal 

Does the letter establish any form of contract
Could it be counted as part of the foundation
On which all other relationships are assembled or interlaced

Do we, by committing pen to paper, make any other commitment 
Does the pace and certainty (with the time for thought)
Give the parchment more gravitas than the spoken word

When we whisper ‘I love you’ are we aiming for it not to be overheard
Are we to be so bold as when we seal the envelope with a kiss
Having left the words ‘I miss you’ inside for eternity

The spoken word, the written word; what precedes them? 
Do our first chanced glances look for the make of the fountain pen
Do we feel for the weight of the stock
On which our lovers future scribes will be formed

Are we required to have been lovers
Before our true feelings can make their way to the postman
For him again to deliver the myth of physical offerings
Into your consummation of their erotic suggestions

Is this the end of the letters journey
From wondering how you are
To making it necessary to take your underwear to the cleaners

Is this the culmination of literary thought
Pencil stains, pen & ink & semen
Mail that sails by itself, nude through the ether


Cut It - Love of Perfumed Grains of Dust
Christopher's Poetry collections can be found on iTunes and on Kindle by clicking the highlighted links

Thursday, 31 October 2013

Ambient Wind

I was caught by her power
How she never had a frown
Until then I had forgotten
How to smile

A walk among the ether
Tiptoes at the deserts edge
More sensations than our senses
Could that day absorb

She was as heavenly air
She was as purified air
She was as soft submissive sand
I was no longer her frigid rock


Cut It - Love of Perfumed Grains of Dust
Christopher's Poetry collections can be found on iTunes and on Kindle by clicking the highlighted links

Wednesday, 30 October 2013

Bombardments 30

Daydreams
Before daylight
Half open playtimes
Before the end of night


Cut It - Love of Perfumed Grains of Dust
Christopher's Poetry collections can be found on iTunes and on Kindle by clicking the highlighted links