Chris' Poetry

Peace

July 16, 2026

poetry

A poem of passing.

Peace passing by
I turned
to embrace it, but passing time
made me miss the
possibility, of, perhaps genuine
soul connection,

Peace passing in repose
I wake
freezing finding my feet stone cold
my empty bed
this sense of dread
alone in a room,

While joy is ever evaporating
under the fierce climate
where do we turn
to find peace as our world turns
burns,

In a deep well
or
shallow pond there lingers
memory
of pain distress and din of war
seeking to bless
yet pushing peace to one side
to fall into the void
we made,

Our names soon fade
in fierce winds
fanned by man’s cruel hands,
disasters designed
signed off and ratified
while a child
cries,

Unable to recognize
in their eyes
peace passing by.

C26

No comments on Peace
So many hours

July 9, 2026

poetry

A poem

So many hours
wiled away in waste,
mired in mediocrity
stupor stalled
I stagger slowly on,
Times passage
stills the writers hand
ink dries in the well
while the world
wends winds
leaving the poetry behind,
is it courage
that I find lacking
longing for my saviour
her beatific face
shining with such fierce love,
in the waiting
so many hours frittered
away,
promise pilfered
times thief taken toll
is it courage
lacking, in so many hours.

C26

No comments on So many hours
Country trip

July 6, 2026

poetry

Journey through mild unassuming hills, I find my eye flitting to familiar fields

Cloaked in winter green gown fecund I recall but not today, under a fierce summer eye,

All is brown and dry this is fodder for fierce fires to reap, not today, relieved to see meadow brown and vistas in dusty hues,

Reminds me that I too, here was planted from some other soil I am third generation I’m rooted here, I see green as beauty,

Vivid blue over dusty shimmering brown has as much merit, it is the legacy of the Europeans to hold onto the verdant views,

In my recesses of post memories enfolded there lies the acclimatisation of a new being a new nation.

C

No comments on Country trip
Low slow days

June 27, 2026

poetry

A poem.

Low, slow days dragging
like ponderous pompous prayers
to an impatient churchgoer
ticking a box on a soulless slow Sunday
hard wooden pews
unforgiving to body and soul,

Low, slow nights my dry mouth
yearns for a drop of some
cool tap water, but too terrifically tired to rise,
too drained even to slake
my raging thirst,

Oh, the weariness that grinds me down,
I could endure perhaps
if not for the dark mantle, despairs’ cloak
that makes of time a test
on low slow days.

CP26

No comments on Low slow days
Meditations on God

June 18, 2026

poetry

A poem

Meditations on a word, that word is
God,

hold it in still air
let it boldly breathe and build
to see its’ yield,

God
s t r e t c h it out, testing its’ elasticity
its’ capacity to grow
expanding,

G o d

Think of countless numbers of toes stubbed
invoking the word, or invocations to
locate lost keys
or lost love,

God
Reduction reveals its’ simplicity, the mystery
of the divine energies
driving the weary
to pray on wet
wintry days,
God.

CP26

No comments on Meditations on God
An unlucky man

June 12, 2026

poetry

A poem tinged with pity.

He said directly to my pinched face

you’re an unlucky man,

your erratic heart didn’t just start with a PE

we think you’ve had failure

before,

I heard his words, flowing over me like water

some absorbed,

some repelled resistant to comprehension

an unlucky man.

How swiftly the dark clouds descend over a clear

blue day,

now it seems down to chance.

He was helpful and kind, he eased our minds

but I ponder how luck

suddenly rose behind me and said no,

let this one go.

CP

No comments on An unlucky man
Lines in the sand

June 3, 2026

poetry

Poem

Wind channels

crazy lines

fingerprints in sand

lines

it is part of something planned.

C

No comments on Lines in the sand
Last Words

June 2, 2026

poetry

A poem

Last words from a lost soul lingering
all his chickens have come home to roost
the cat cast among the pigeons,
I hesitate; metaphors suggest time has moved on
and passed this persistent poetic pest.

Let his last words be “Bloody Hell” of “What the eff!”
as the Reaper rakes, takes him totally
by surprise ensconced in his comforting lies
“It’s not your turn yet”
tempting fate, it is never too late until it is
too late.

In the dusty spare room, the old box stuffed
Grandmothers old quilt, faded pictures
his guilt barely contained by broken locks
and sheets of yellowing newspaper,

Lost soul, find your way, there is still some light
left in this fading day,
the distant horizon is as fixed as it ever was
pigeons can seek another roost
let your ancient fears loose, let your last words
be Thank You for this
and every single day.

CP26

No comments on Last Words
Poetry in Hospital

June 2, 2026

poetry

poetry in the ward.

Like a piece of battered driftwood
tide tossed
the ebb and flow of visiting medicos,
who come and go
talking of pressures and blood flow,

They move in scheduled shifts
regular as the tide,
it is hard to find traction on the shore
to find poetry’s doors,

To reflect and opine on the divine
while shunts and leads
cover my old torso, wired to a monitor
I drift away from shore
into the ocean of healing and pain
thinking is this the end?

Will the kind nurses face be the last I see?
it is hard to find poetry
in the hospital ward
it will come again
as I drift slowly
to lands firm
embrace.

CP26

No comments on Poetry in Hospital
Captive in my own body

May 26, 2026

poetry

Tethered to a stainless steel table
by my adherence,
my compliance to procedures,
small cable
nothing more than wire traces its way
to my heart, my lungs,
it does its part.

I do mine, staying still, being brave
it is my life to save
the blood on the white sheet
is all mine,
I’m complete in my self
penetrated but not compromised
by medicine, it aids me.

I am in my own body
captive
to the hearts rhythms
to my condition
the recognition of mortality
a daily dose…

I feel the way I shift my self
away from the pain
but it is persistent
it is very insistent, I am here
grateful
humble
thoughtful.

Chris.

No comments on Captive in my own body