Hard Stuff

If I don’t give you the time and presence how might I ask you to let me be

I have been known as a carpenter, I have been known as Paul

I have been known to like a drink, I have been in love, loved you one and all

If I don’t give you the chance to think how might I ask you to choose wisely

I have been known as a builder, I have been known as Shaun

I have been known to like a drink, I have been in love, love I love you all

From Christopher Sanderson's Ireland Poems
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A Perfect Poem (Tom Carney)

On the motorway

From Galway to Dublin

Thinking of the photographs

That I have not taken

The column of slate

The cotton on the bog...

My love sat here beside me

With photographs I have not taken

From Christopher Sanderson's Ireland Poems
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Galway’s Music Pubs

It’s where the musicians meet, that division of two streets

It’s the place to sing with rhythm, to bang the drum, and tap the feet

It’s the sunshine of the season, where peace becomes the reason

It’s the place where deity’s are taken or given, as with all hope we seize

From Christopher Sanderson's Ireland Poems
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remember (the nine days of christmas day nine)

i choose to search my memory, to name the memories as my own memories, memories that I may call up by design, or solicit to enter my consciousness at random. 

i am happy to receive or trawl both good and bad memories, both happy and sad memories, I am as happy to bathe in joyful memories as I am to reflect in melancholic memories. 

i am capable of taking pleasure, and advice, from the reading, and the writing of memories, be they my own memory’s words, or the words of other's owned memories.

i hear memories when they are spoken, or when joined up with music, to become the memory of song; i myself have no voice for singing, instead i find my beauty in the memory of another’s voice. 

i feel memories when the ambiance of instrumentation alights me; i have neither skill nor talent for playing instruments, instead i find my harmony in the memory’s of many other’s rhythms and arrangements.

poems as prayers

from a non-religious person

yet someone trying to be

a spiritual person

Have A Good Holiday

Christopher

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Peace Came; As If By Right

We met him in the famous Galway city, he was from the beautiful Donegal town, his wife she must have been fair pretty, to get the spiritual wanderer to half-way settle down

He was so fond of working he forgot he had a wife, he took so strong to drinking he mistook it for a life, he had so strong a presence, peace came to him as if by right

He crossed the seas by boat to England, to use his trade he was London bound, he made himself a small monetary fortune, while his head all the while whizzed around

He was so fond of working he forgot he had a wife, he took so strong to drinking he mistook it for a life, he had so strong a presence, peace came to him as if by right

He built the fairground rides for Disney, with the skill of a man who knows the way, he sang beside the big star Lindsey, she was the love of his life, he loved her night and day

He was so fond of working he forgot he had a wife, he took so strong to drinking he mistook it for a life, he had so strong a presence, peace came to him as if by right

He knew it was the time to find the stillness, to stare out to sea from Sliabh Liag Cliffs, he was certain his wife was sure to leave him, yet, through his faithful presence, the peace still found him on that day

He was so fond of working he forgot he had a wife, he took so strong to drinking he mistook it for a life, he had so strong a presence, peace came to him as if by right

From Christopher Sanderson's Ireland Poems
Read free in Ibooks on Itunes here
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