Step In Now Why Don’t You

I am too often misunderstood
Also way too often
I do not understand myself

Why don’t I know
Where my keys are
Or my glasses, or my watch

Though I agree that
This is more about being misplaced
As opposed to being misunderstood

Yet today
As I was trying to explain
The authenticity of the writer’s voice

A snipe was made
That only I could interpret
After my claim that the monk had said so

In that instance then
Not only misunderstood
But also cut short

Before my explanation
Was allowed to run its course
For full understanding to be reached

Once again I was found to be
Halfway to nowhere, neither
Really clear, nor thoroughly confused

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Christopher's Collected Works Website

Sated Or Saturated

If it is over so quickly
If the action
Is only for a few moments
Why does the resonance
Last for the whole of time

And if the monastic bell
Is the metaphor
For a peak experience
Followed by withering decay
Should we really rush to prayer

Or are we safer
To stand tall
To walk with dignity and purpose
Across the stone quadrangle
Laid down hundreds of years ago

Yet let us not demean the instant
In favour of the long time
Rather let us be thankful
For the gratification
In whatever is its measure of time

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Christopher's Collected Works Website

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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Christopher's Collected Works Website

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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Christopher's Collected Works Website

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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