Bundle

Stéphane Mallarmé is known

As the poet of nothingness, yet his poem Sigh

Breathes with, conjures up the all of our life

Alongside the bargain

The might of the all of our nothingness

All and nothing, associates absolute in life 

He gave it his all, but

Nothing came from the wanton cry

Would that the yellows and blues, past hues

With their dues duly forgiven, be riven from

The posts and the protestations, sensationally

Lost in the symbolic cost of a burning goodbye

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

Surest Love

It’s her surest love, that’s what she’s surest of

He’s home to stay, he’s never gonna go away

Then her sad refrain - he’ll soon be back again

Tell me o surest love, what are those words you say

Your song only yesterday, he’s never gonna go away

Then that railway train - will he ever be back again?

Hear that mellow blow; the horn and the piccolo

She’s lost her surest love, downtown he’s a gigolo

With her he’s left his stain - will he be back again?

She mourns the loss; gone to the Lesbos Isle from Kos

She’ll paint again, from lover’s love she will abstain

She’ll still feel the pain - ever will he, be back again?

The boats faraway have sailed, he’s left no mail

His muse and his minder, over the seas to find her

Remind her of heroes slain - never going there again

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

Towards Ink

Through the gauze blind of the inset kitchen window I see the soft warm light of a lamp, left on all night, beside a footpath in the frosted garden

I had woken early, read Mary Oliver’s poem Wild Geese, not that I was lonely, almost the opposite; yes quite a bit more than at one

The peace of the plainsong I hope will stay with you, as I wobble, play with the place I choose most often to wander

I wasn’t in need of a response, or was I? Do I no longer contact myself, clearly, internally, with my needs; did I ever? Do any of us really, truly

One spoke of the lovely poem. One spoke of walking in the snow, from returning her sister to her home, late in the evening

The bed was cold, the room was cold, the house was cold, the sleep was cold; I was not warmed by the cold; my warmth came, from the togetherness of their words

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

Invigorate

Peace comes

On the extended note

From beside the bookshelf

On the sight of the cold wind

Beneath the big blue Lincolnshire sky

The weathervane

Is past the time for turning

Either in search of self, or

In search of

The winters absent warmth

She plays with whimsy

Sings of being carried out to sea

In search of her comfort

O comfort me

O comfort me she sings

Peace stays

On the defended vote

From beside all thoughts of self

To the light of the bold ring

Beneath the hope that wanders by

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

Be Clothed

That the day

Should give such change

All shades of life

Made present

That I should say

About the wrinkles

On my skin, and the

Overlap of wool on cuff

Such is this brightness

That simply by sitting

My mood rises

Settles aloft

Lets in the waves of light

Brings me

Closer to the love

That others have given

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