Worn Tracks

Dark outside

Friends, loved ones

Over land, under night sky

Pages turned, numbers dialled

Ease the throttle on imagination

Traces; worn tracks erased to dust

By bluebell skies the day after tomorrow

Sing on Joan Baez, sing of Diamonds & Rust

Faraway the closed caresses of sweet sorrow

Into the ether of spokesmen we no longer trust

Wait awhile

For the pain to subside

Blessed to be in this quiet

With a Cuban song in my ear

This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
Or as a homemade book from  poetryshop 

Out of Sorts

Signs of civilisation

Open prawn sandwich

With a ginger dressing

Sunglasses on top of her head

Glasses perched on the end of his nose

He browses a quality broadsheet 

There are younger couples

And retired family groups

There are ladies who lunch

And me

Being someone 

That I'm not

This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
Or as a homemade book from  poetryshop 

Denial

All but evaded

Out into the mist

Talk almost entirely absent

Lost is too strong a word

The need is for a weaker term

Denial, conscious or not

May be the root of it

This is a poem from Filmic: Love of Our World of Purples & Blues

Available as ebook from Kindle
Or as a homemade book from  poetryshop 

Seven + 1

We’re in this thing deeper

Deeper than we might ever know

Who’d have thought it, at that first show 

That you’d become my lover, and my dreamer

We glide along, from song to song

The hillsides less steep with doors ajar

With work and play we journey near and far

Whenever in doubt we work out whatever’s wrong

We’re in this thing deeper

Deeper than we might ever show

Who’d have thought it, fate would know

That you’d become my lover, and my redeemer

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

Thin On Whispers

In that time, of those raw views

Look hard to what you see

In this time, to stop your heart

Look long to those cold vistas

Hopes that stop

In lands that sleep

A life that's lost

Of prospects heat

Time that waits

For eyes to seek

Such turns that frost

Steals souls of speech

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