Subliminal States

The light flickers

Casting shadows

And broken associations

Over the pastel sketch

Such pretentiousness in me

Or supernatural thoughts

That the mirage is a response

To earlier suggestions

Blessed with such superstition

I elongate the pencil’s chiaroscuro

To transform the sun’s rays

Into more than a composition

There, where the crystal

Projects onto the wall

The twigs and branches dance

Above the serene lamp bowl

Meanwhile Max Richter’s

Cassiopeia plays on the stereo

As the body reflectively rotates

Taking it wherever it wills

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Moving On And Looking Back

I am sixty-eight

I haven’t written that out before

It only happened last week

My financial planning report arrived today

I had not requested it

It is probably a computer generated thing

Sunlight falls on the bookshelf cupboard door

I gaze on it for quite a long time

Shadow and light interest me, they engage me

I am less certain of the blank space

Where Maxim’s painting used to hang

Until it fell down after three years on the wall

We did talk of replacing the chairs

With a large soft settee for cuddling on

But the discussion has not turned into action

Today we have the wood burner lit

From early morning actually

And at one point the room was truly warm

I watched a video about Vipasanna on YouTube 

Which reminded me of my ten day silent retreat

At Dhamma Dipa, somewhere near the Welsh border

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Coincidental II

The sun is bright

The wind is wild

The wood burner gifts warmth

I think of all of those things

Which I could not think of

When it was dark

When it was cold

When the wind rattled my windows

The book is done

The book is split in two to reduce the burden

The peace is good

The calm is a treasure

Without having to move

I can be moved

My eyes and ears can move me

My mind and its memories can move me

With this movement

All is afloat

The next book is contemplated

That work may also be split in two

The crystal offers rainbows

For which the walls say thank you

The door is closed

The door may be opened

As may the cupboards

In search of last years work

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Coincidental I

I saw a photograph

Of a sculpture by Kan Yusada

Leaning against my wall

I have a poster, from YSP

For an exhibition by Kan Yusada

Somewhere I will have my own photographs

I had to refill my pencil

I spilt the leads

Into my desk drawer

In my impatience

To tell you of the coincidence

Or might I say: happenstance

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One Other Place

I was at a religious conference

At a summer school

(I often go to summer schools in my dreams)

I had made friends with a military man

Who felt that he needed to speak out about

The conflict between the military and religion

An older lady joined us

A cheerful yet devout believer

Who told my friend

That God would make it all ok

And not to worry too too much

The two of them went for lunch

My eldest son joined me

And asked how was I going to entertain him

Because his mum was being such a pain

I only had five pounds in my pocket

And knew that would not satisfy his wants

Triggers

I had watched a film the night before

About Dr. Stephen Hawkins

The credits said he was 72

A couple of days ago my son

Had been to his grandfathers funeral

I am typing up my poems from 2005

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Christopher's Website
for his Collected Works