Witness And Wait

If you let the peaceful present happen, take off a while to let yourself be, if you listen to the mountains and the raindrops, take some time to believe, in essence, elemental, essentially to see

If you hear the wind and the loch water lapping, being with you to share your love of serenity, if you ride the low waves of lightness passing, by being with belief in you, by being with caring for love, essential and elementally

From Christopher Sanderson's Ireland Poems
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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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