In Memory of Mike Sarne

It is a cool breeze
Which makes the outdoor seating
Slightly less than comfortable

It is the coloured water
Which keeps the birds away
From the shallows of the pond

It is the grand homemade sandwich
Which says to stay outside
Though I know I should be inside

And so soon I shall make that move
As the last bites of the apple
Are taken and consumed

The tea is heated in the microwave
A fig biscuit is placed on a plate
The sunlight’s trickery is forgotten

Sat at my indoor desk
I notice my neighbour’s patriotic flag
Which waves vigorously

What was a breeze is now a wind
What was a mighty fine lunch
Is now within the digestive tract

A lunchtime then to remember
If not one exactly
To go right to the core of my memory

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Echoing

Nothing is ever completed
And so
Nothing new is ever really begun
Yet, just in that one glimpse
Another memory altogether
Rises to the surface
Such is the beauty
Of where we have been
If only we care to remember

All then lies in wait
If only
Our energies are forthcoming
I am not quite listless
Neither moribund
But simply settled in the moment
As the aircraft rumbles overhead
And one remembers
The cacophony
Of today’s dawn chorus

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Dear David

Dear David
My son and I
Have often visited
Salts Mill Gallery

First to see your
Various collections
As well as to taste
Their cafe’s finest offerings

In the early days
We would often see Jonathan Silver
Strolling around the books
And inspecting the tailoring

One time, on our way home
We got caught in the snow
We had to stay in a B&B near Haworth
Actually it was an old vicarage

With a long drive
And a large fire
We were made most welcome
It was a time for father and son bonding

Which I thank you for profusely
Kate and I went to London
To see your tree painting
It was quite an occasion

With the best Barolo wine
In the Italian restaurant
Where Piccadilly and Regent Street meet
Of course I know

We could have gone to
Leeds or Scarborough or Bridlington
To search out more of your shelters
For, thankfully, you have provided many

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This afternoon I am due

This afternoon I am due
At the hospital
For physiotherapy
To heal my sciatica

For several weeks
Sciatica has been my shelter
Not by choice you understand
Though for sure it was within me

This is my second appointment
With John
Who works for the NHS
He impressed me on my first visit

He asks if I know
When or how the pain started
I really didn’t know this time
But last time was after a massage

Which was a bit of a ha-ha
Moment for John
Apparently, if you are not well supported
During massage the nerves can be trapped

The first time I had sciatica
The doctor blamed it on DIY
As he did also
For my tennis elbow, and my frozen shoulder

I have cut back on the DIY
My partner doesn’t let me do hardly any
Which is a bit of a nuisance
For a man supposedly creating shelters

So I turn to sciatica
As both poem and shelter
Already wondering if the next one
Might be Ibuprofen or Paracetamol

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I am in the Internet Corner

I am in the Internet Corner
Of the Atrium Prestige Hotel
On the Greek Island of Rhodes
I am entirely alone
In this calm space
Now that the cleaner has departed

My shelters for today
Have shiny marble floors
Chairs and tables from antiquity
Also bookshelves from IKEA
With the square Bridge tables
Covered in green baize to complete the look
That is apart from
The two computer monitors

Also from antiquity
Or at least the steam age
The framed painting
Is a repeat from our bedroom
It hangs between
Two full-height glass panels

By the large screen television
Is a Perspex tube or column
A place to recycle batteries
There are no ash trays
What with the Greeks just passing a law
To crack down on smoking in public

On the back wall
Opposite the TV
Are four, tall
Rectangular windows
Also canvas art prints
One is of Linda’s Acropolis
One is of cloisters
From who knows where

Yet, even in a room
Filled with clutter
There is a peacefulness
As befits
My penultimate days
In search of a vacation shelter

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See more of Christopher's work Here