Half A Sine Wave, Or Less

In that time
Of less than a moment
Where only
The mysterious feeling is felt

I call it mysterious yet feel sure
That it is fuelled by longing
Where one word is way less
Yet way more than a sentence

I don’t believe that the couple
Who sat by the window
Spoke a single word
As they drank their coffee

No doubt caught up
In their very own insecurities
Where the deep, penetrating silence
Is happy to scurrilously linger

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Christopher's Collected Works Website

Nattered

Today it was
The Evening Primrose
Today it was
The scent of my own skin
With the circulation
Ever warmer
When in my bed
I did lay

My blood is going somewhere
My blood is going nowhere
My legs are tributaries
Off the old canal
My thoughts are the thoughts
Of some long-held
Misunderstandings, my temptations
Lead me to where I am

Last night it was
The sleep, or rather the lack of it
Last night it was
The dreams
With poetry’s words
Forever recurring
As in my bed
I did lay

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Christopher's Collected Works Website

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

Available on Amazon

Christopher's Collected Works Website