Don’t Always Expect

 The two films

Told similar stories

If there are only five stories

And I can’t recall who told me that

But if there are only five

Then this is another one of them:

You begin with a young man

Or a boy, or a girl

Or a woman

You follow their life

Always they are centre stage

Which of course means

That whatever incident

Which they are involved in

They will pull through

The drama then

Slightly withholds on tension

For you know the hero

Is going to keep going

Right until the very end

So such a shock

When last night

He got knocked down early on

By a large delivery van

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Life Turned Out…

 Where would it take me

All this duplicity

Unable, or so it seems

To see into my own self

When I was a young boy

The trials and tricks of time

Were of a day to day nature

No longer projections needed

When I was a young man

The hopes and expectations

Offered themselves up

In a startling array

Where would it take me

All this opportunity

More than able, so it seems

To continue to discover me

When I was approaching

Middle age

The doubts and delusions

Called by more often

I followed the mid-life crisis

Which to this day

Still resonates at an altogether

Higher frequency

When I reached retirement

All I had was writing

Quite a turnaround

For the grammar school failure

Where will it take me

All this perspicacity

Once more occasionally unstable

I wobble on the balance of life

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Recognition And Rumination

And finally I see, that as

A Dance to the Music of Time

Reaches Winter

Then what we are watching

Is my life, or your life, or our life

Laid out chronologically

Around you, and I, there is

Birth, and life, and death

On our linear portrayals

We too go through

Many tributes and tribulations

There are times for reflection

You know the sort of thing

As a teenager

Bored out of your mind

Then in middle age

Worrying about the kids

Until, later on, you turn to

Contemplating on your own purpose

Finding distractions

To keep the inevitable passing at bay

Eventually though, the penny drops

Recognition drives in her heavy horses

There is to be no more procreation

It is the time for fine cut clothes

And finer beer, or longer liqueur cocktails

On our endless exotic vacations

In our attempts to keep the unsteadiness alive

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Observe

To see within or beyond

To find a way closer

To being at one

In awareness of more

Than ever before

To talk of this place

As peace, or understanding

Even, on occasions

To be blessed with love

Where the words

And the silences wait

For the zeroes of the moment

What is it

Which holds you back

What nagging doubts

Limit your progress

Can you not see the red roses

Can you not smell the freesias

Or the salt spray

From the windblown waves

So to become settled

With the attachments

Be together

With all

That has gone before

And be together

With all

Which will come again

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for his Collected Works

Route One

So it isn’t meaning or understanding

Which I strive for

Indeed it could fairly be said that I often

Shy away from meaning or understanding

Instead it is a feeling which I hope to evoke

Or more importantly

A feeling which I hope to be able to walk among

Or bathe in, as I write the words I write

The light dims, the breeze picks up

The weather is on the change

A change which may well take me with it

At that very moment the thought

Of the mountain and the river enters my mind

From where and how I know not

The breeze will become a wind

On its continuum, how might I discern

The tipping point of this transformative force

So it is observation, of that which is for itself

Outside of me, which now fuels this writing

Yet also there must be speculation, for how else

To extend the pathways on which I wish to walk

But for now it is interference which halts me

Angst at sounds neither clear nor valedictory

Then to step back, to stop even, although actually

To find a diversion, with new possibilities, instead

Available at Amazon

Christopher's Website
for his Collected Works