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Thursday, 26 December 2019

Fast Mover

I only just left the chapel in time
Just before the acting mother superior
Brought in her small but devoted flock
Earlier they had prayed
Before the burning candles
This then is their space numero duo
One of an altogether purer silence

I had sort of broken
Those quiet rules actually
Having found the Chapel
To be an ideal place to pen a poem
Which of course meant
Scrawling nib across paper
Though I made as little noise as possible

Though if I hadn’t have been on my own
I am sure I would have caused distraction
Which isn’t really fair is it
When I only come here once a year
The riverside walk has been closed off
And there is lots of Harris fencing
Waiting in the wings

Let’s hope to God that Health and Safety
Are not on the Benedictine’s case
For I fear that it stretches a good way back


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 See more of Christopher's Work Here
See more of Christopher's work Here

Wednesday, 25 December 2019

Recoil

Let me remember the beauty
The well-lit interior
The stained glass chapel
The trumpets for the organ

Let me remember the kindness
Brother Daniel
Keeping law and order
Keeping everything moving

Let me think on
Of walks in the gardens
Of walks by the river
Of the path up through the woods

Don’t let me slip into the miasma
Of this, the back-end of autumn
Of rain, of wind
Of overcast skies

Always remind me
Of the hug from my son
Of his kind, loving girlfriend
Who brings him such joy


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 See more of Christopher's Work Here
See more of Christopher's work Here

Tuesday, 24 December 2019

Replacement

I have lost one
And I have found one
Is that now
How it is always to be
I’m not certain
That I deserve such love
But it is there
So I will share it

Not that I will pester
No
For in the past
That plan got me nowhere
Though neither will I be
Silent
For also in the past
That method achieved precisely diddly-squat

I have found one
And I don’t want to lose him
That is
How it is always to be
I’m not certain
That we deserve each other
But we have it
So pray let us share it


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 See more of Christopher's Work Here
See more of Christopher's work Here

Monday, 23 December 2019

Time Pieces

Nine monks
Ten, with me, in the congregation
It is a well made bench
The new garden
Not quite so well made
They are, in business speak
Sweating the assets

I am losing my belonging
The love affair is over
As was the last love affair
A long long time ago
No amount of treacle tart
Or clotted cream
Can make up for the lost ground

I will leave tomorrow
In search of a new inspiration
The Italian
Or did I decide he was Eastern European
He arrives late; actually, every time
He has attended, he has turned in late
And that it seems is what it’s coming to


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 See more of Christopher's Work Here
See more of Christopher's work Here

Sunday, 22 December 2019

Free for 5 days, Box Poems for Kindle

Learn how to create your vey own box poem, turn your twelve lines into a twenty four line poem where the irregular repetition almost always seems to add to the poem.

From the 22nd to the 26th of December you can download Box Poems for free!

Use the method over Christmas and beyond to amuse and impress your poetry, or non-poetry friends.

Here is one example, the book has loads more:


Cube 1: Bottom, left, right, front, back, top

I am aware of the completeness of my body
As I stand between the monumental stone pillars
I breathe in, I breathe out, I take a step forwards
Onto the narrow, rutted, potholed lane

With walls, fences, and verges to the side
The lane turns corners and falls gradually
Before reaching the main road and the promenade
Which in turn takes me down to the beach

I remember the rippled, and wet, firm sands
The tide was receding 
The sunrise was slowly rising 
I breathe in, I breathe out, I take a a step forwards

I stop, stand in wonder for a while; I retrace my steps
Before reaching the main road and the promenade
The tide was receding
I am aware of the completeness of my body

I sit in the cafe with a coffee and a cigarette
The lane turns corners and falls gradually
The sunrise was slowly rising 
Onto the narrow, rutted, potholed lane

I stop, stand in wonder for a while; I retrace my steps
With walls, fences, and verges to the side
I remember the rippled, and wet, firm sands
I sit in the cafe with a coffee and a cigarette




https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07DJB482H