Seasons Greetings

& A Happy New Year

poems as prayers, from a non-religious person, yet someone trying to be, a spiritual person

Have A Good HolidayChristopher

without searching

i have no desire to know how things got here

neither do I seek out intellectual arguments i do hope to be able to become so close that i form temporary or permanent attachments

todays blue skies, friendships again reunited

tonight’s theatrical performance, with scripts by the lady who wrote Dinner Ladies, based on

voltaire’s book Candide; it is for the best; it is

lightness

out in the garden, to see grass, to see pebbles to see the breeze wave through the apple tree

in the sunlight, on the day of the train’s arrival after the beauty of late morning arising in love

about doubt

i write these words for you, yet i ask myself do i write these words for you alone

i raise an image; a thin, merino wool cardigan

with its sleeve rolled back

to show off your suntanned arm

if i give these words and this image to you

should i ask myself do i give these gifts for you alone

i recover a memory, from many thousands yet i ask myself will i always be able to recover memories for you

alone

i project a vision, during meditation

your face, in bright moonlight and clouds symbolic of the love i am being asked to give out

if i offer these memories and visions to you

should i ask myself are these recoveries and projections for you

alone

sant salvador

my window faces the rising sun

this gift of life

each day is spun

i hear your footsteps in my mind

this gift of peace

such joy to find

silent mornings in my arms this gift of love

brings me calm

i see you pray

you alone

this gift of time

carved in stone

my window faces the setting sun

this gift of words unspoken, quietly undone

last post

As long as one is conscious, nothing temporary, no past experience, is ever truly lost Hermann Hesse

i will always have the poem

of the gentle butterfly

floating and fluttering in the garden

i can draw on the beauty and emotion

of moments and spaces that only ever truly existed within my imagination

i will always have the song

of a beautiful woman walking

strolling through the headland meadow

i am taken to summers near and far away

both real, and from that immense

and infinite land of make believe

i will always have the images of spiritual paintings a time, of both then and now, when

i may retreat to a peaceful meditative place

with time and peace to encourage my practice

to flower with the energy and love of my mind

afterwards the morning

through the white clouded blue sky to freedom

leave behind the pink and purple grass leave behind the working class leave behind the midnight mass leave behind all that old talk of freedom

i thought of you, and smiled

as i drove beside the golden orange hedgerow

it was a memory; deeper love

from my collective unconscious which brought joy into my breath

sitting in the warm bright light of freedom

leave behind the anger of delusions leave behind the air of confusions leave behind the mindful intrusions leave behind all that old talk of freedom

i saw your doppelgänger in my rear view mirror, as i queued on the

motorway

it was a memory; a fond journey

into my recent consciousness which brought passion to my heart

drift into the refreshing silver grey rains of freedom

leave behind the mystery of the myth

leave behind the waiting for the gift

leave behind all that old talk of freedom

i heard your sensational music

as a backdrop to a meditation prayer it was a memory; of infinite essence

of time in contemplation, with you

my inspirational guidance

teacher

in that search

for heart and mind and soul i had within me

some certainty

some doubt some confusion

i settled on

the heart being where the seed of the

poetry rises the mind being where i root to find a

context the soul being where lies what i leave

behind

in this conclusion

of heart and mind and soul i have been given

the will for absolute life

the will for absolute love

the will for absolute inspiration

in place of ether

instances, moments, fleeting recollections, welcome feelings, suggestions of empathetic

being

could I live with you, could I live without you; could i meditate and contemplate, alone by

myself, or perhaps together, sometimes with you

light, dark, sun, rain, blue skies, cloud filled

skies, bare trees, leaf filled trees, footpaths and

journeys

could I feel you with your body, could I feel you

without your body; could i stretch and curl, touch

my own extremities, before becoming desperate

to visualise your aspect

mind, thought, stillness, calm, peace, warmth, sensuality, rapture, urge, ache, desirous longing

could i have transference with you, could I have

transference without you; could i suggest images, perhaps reach out for déjà vu, could i have lucid dreams and seek out their explanations

remember

i choose to search my memory, to name the

memories as my own memories, memories that I may call up by design, or solicit to enter my

consciousness at random.

i am happy to receive or trawl both good and bad

memories, both happy and sad memories, I am

as happy to bathe in joyful memories as I am to

reflect in melancholic memories.

i am capable of taking pleasure, and advice, from

the reading, and the writing of memories, be they

my own memory’s words, or the words of others owned memories.

i hear memories when they are spoken, or when

joined up with music, to become the memory of song. i myself have no voice for singing, instead i find beauty in the memory of another’s voice.

i feel memories when the ambiance of instrumentation alights me, i have no skill or talent for playing instruments, instead i find

harmony in the memory’s of many other’s rhythms and arrangements.