The line was drawn
the curse cast
the worst are now first,
they stand
in the hallway, they block the doors
and yes
we’ve been drenched
to the bone,
the times have been changed
now
your son’s and daughters
are now
old, wary of change
they
sing the old songs
as if
the lyrics are dead words
memorised
in a life less liturgy.
C
Form a line
stand
here,
stay here,
waiting in line
always
some male
without fail barging in,
yes
it’s entitlement!
it’s rude!
not to form in orderly fashion,
like me
like my anxiety
tells me to
stand
on the painted feet
greet
the guard
with a mumbled “Kalamera“
He stares
into the place
you
occupy
in line, in order,
waiting
always waiting.
Is it
my turn yet?
Chris
Solo
In all the days distant or near
you my love
always close, always near
my heart
yours faithfully beating next to mine,
It seems strange to feel
alone, though
we have been apart so often
with work
or self obsessions, trivial digression, but
now on this
new adventure…
You are doing
what you dreamt of, worked for
and I am here
on this aircraft, so high above
the earth
we are going solo, to relearn
why we must
never part.
Chris
My
My heart
my
eyes, see my
arms
at my side,
my
feet, my legs
my
sense of my length.
My ears
my
mouth, my words
yet unformed
my
chest, my lungs
compressed
my soul
I blessed,
my sin,
my fault
my
failure to act
my
presence unnoticed…
my life
it has left.
Chris.
Notes from Bilbao Cathedral
A poem
Through a stone arch, we passed stone
worn smooth, we passed
into the great cathedral, into sacred space
we passed,
My very being is questioning quietly, the gold
the rich merchants tomb,
we passed, the devout or profane enshrined
in stone,
We passed deep dark timber pews, offering
no comfort yet we sit
instinctively we bless ourselves, habits
of a life,
The majesty of these moments will pass
like this candle lit
for you dear friend Mary,
we see the flame flicker and burn bright
while we passed,
The cathedral remains solid, impervious to
time and the cold spring rain.
Chris Papps
Here they value politeness
greetings
respect,
taking time to lunch
no gorging
course by course, cheese of course!
Here they work
walk quickly with purpose
on the pave
but stop to greet
neighbours on the busy street
we say merci!
embrace the politeness of this place.
C
Revealing through concealing
each layer
lifted lovingly, each word wisely gifted,
Yellow daffodils
so appealing by a glassy surfaced lake
swan, geese cluster
around the shores, where we pretend
we are present here…
But not awake.
Poetry flows in currents
ghyll rushes and flows insistently
to lake and seas,
My words, earned are now spent
allow me to settle
to sink.
Chris
A poem
The lake untroubled by turmoil,
serenity over strife,
Oh if only those turbulent tides that rage inside
could mirror that mere,
Lord take me here, in my heart the drones fly
all day, we pray
the lake untroubled lies before me.
I am drowning
here on dry land all plans still uncertain
let us sit still, right here my love.
Chris
A poem
When all the stories have been told, retold and
reimagined
when all the poetry has been written
when the times twist in our guts, making our
hearts sore
because with words I am smitten
then I will want more.
C
A poem, yes, it is, no it isn’t.
In the comments,
they reply,
guys
cry, rant and rave
to be right
hogging the light
quoting
dispensing free advice
not once,
but thrice if you only could see
how earnestly
passionately they nearly
finished reading
some book by some guy
inspired by
some other guy on the channel,
I’m here
so I guess my lesson
is there for
me.
C
Chris' Poetry 