Polly

You didn’t have to die
To be amazing
But you did die
And it was amazing

I can’t tell you now
Because you are gone
But the church was rammed
Jam-packed to the rafters

Truth, beauty, honesty, courage
Fighting for one’s own
Those words were spoken
In spadefuls of abundance

Anecdotes of your humanity
From all faiths and none
Nothing but good judgements
On this your judgement day

Even your teacher’s report glowed
Not a contradictory note heard
Although had you been there
Questions might have been raised

There was an awful lot of yellow
For that is just one colour
Which we all remember
That you wore with high-spirited grace

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Christopher's Collected Works Website

Storm Slight

And so the rain
Whose noise I hear
Against the window

A lightening of the sky
Immediately follows

And so summer shows
Allowing my mind to travel
To and fro
Fro and to
First there, and then back again

As the plants
As the bushes
As the trees
As the grasses
All smile to say thank you

The glass panes
Are quiet now

Peace swiftly returned
My eyes fall
Back onto the page

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Christopher's Collected Works Website

Equanimous Objectives

I write about the beauty of routine
Then I break the routine
With my own tiredness
With my own laziness

I take a pen to sketch
Yet only for a few minutes
Before my patience
Defeats my limited ability

I find another book
Shelters and Baskets
But, unlike Shelters for Dreaming
This publication has no date

And so I return
Though not until after reading
The House of Belonging
Which twice made me realise

How little loss I have suffered
How little closeness I have found
Why not then pause to take
A moment, in the half-dark stillness

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Christopher's Collected Works Website

Almost, Not

I read four pages
Without reading any
I heard of love
Without my old way
I wrote of meditation
Without stopping to think

Reading, writing, hearing
Waiting for whatever happens
To happen

I look around
Without seeing
I feel pain
Without giving it a name
I sense disappointment
Without wondering why

Looking, feeling, sensing
Hoping that whatever happens
Will happen sometime

I sit
Without the need to stand
I lay
Without the need to sit
I sleep
Without the need to lie

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Christopher's Collected Works Website

Useful Or What

There are flowers of many colours
But nowhere at all to sit
There is a pond of pure black reflection
But nowhere in sight to sit

An artist, or photographer
With his aunt or mother
Seeks to find the perfect angle
Though he knows of nowhere then to sit

I did not dodge my responsibilities
Think I
As the pregnant girl walks by

I did catch the water droplets
Think I
As they hung in slow suspension

There are ice creams of many flavours
With many tables at which to sit
There is a gift shop with fine papers
But no matches, for the redundant fire-pit

A writer or philosopher
With his lover or muse
Seeks to find a genuine entrance
Before choosing where to sit

Available on Amazon

Christopher's Collected Works Website