Treasure

A description of the sea on our last day at Atrium Prestige

First to say something about the sharp line of the horizon which goes all the way from right to left, also from left to right

Then to talk of the flickers of sunlight which shimmer in the same V formation as a skein of geese in flight

As if they too are heading for the shoreline cafe where I take my daily Americano

Now I have a desire to write about you; you are the sea, the sea is you, you and the sea have bonded

Just as have I been able to sit in the shade, to pen a few words, without fear of interruption

And just when you thought it was all superficial I must tell you of the nearby shipwrecks and lives lost

Also of the deep-water divers who now act as environmental policemen to keep watch on those who would pollute

Yes it is azure, yes it is blue, yes it is ideal for swimming and diving, yes it is why I write what I write

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Christopher's Collected Works Website

More Ways Than One

One way is to be seen
Another way is to be discreet
A third way

Is not to decide for yourself
Nor neither
To let others decide for you

Should we focus on the flies
Or the tea with biscuits
Which, for the moment
Are separate entities

Instead to focus on the sciatica
And the back pain
Which, for as far as I can feel
Is as good as one and the same

One way is to become known
Another way is to remain mute
A third way is to determine

That your expressions, your grimace
Should say all of that
Which needs to be known

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Christopher's Collected Works Website

Meeting Point

You are in the sea
Or by the sea
I have just left
Internet corner

Now you wave to me
As you walk across
The raised curved walkway
Above one of the swimming pools

The flies are too many to manage
Which was not the case
On the days before
When the jazz piano also tinkled

Earlier today
I saw an older gentleman
With grey curly hair
And sporting a rather ill-fitting hat

I thought to myself
What are your thoughts sir
How goes your reasoning
Where does love and justice fit with you

Then, when I looked up from
My coffee, you were gone
Taking your basket of treasures with you
Walking ever onwards; c’est la vie

Available on Amazon

Christopher's Collected Works Website

The Chiaroscuro Of Pain

Penultimate day, final evening
Yet, after last night
There is apprehension

Or better to say tension
Tension between my night body
And my day body

Already today I feel better
Yet how to explain the desperation
Of the nighttime

Surrealist poetry, tied
Intrinsically to the sciatica
Titles of poems which prohibit
Any further reading

Aches throughout the body
Which defeat any challenge
Before the thought has progressed

Already today the fear begins
That this thing which I call sciatica
Will rob me of my sleep should it return

Already I am thinking of titles for poems
Such that when the time comes
I will be ready to strike first

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Christopher's Collected Works Website

Praise Be Songs Of Love

All four corners do not catch me
Not that is
Until I hear the Gregorian chant

Now, even with my headphones on
The curved roof does something
To the atmospherics

There is a part of me
Which desires to lay on the marble floor
Spread-eagled, awaiting your visitation

Unfortunately, or not
The door is without a lock
So we could be caught out

Perhaps we should wait until nighttime
When darkness will gift us
Solitude and camouflage

For surely no one would approach
Let alone even enter
Without shining their torch

Yes, I understand your trepidation
Experience often unleashes fears
Although I will try to steady the ship

Available on Amazon

Christopher's Collected Works Website