Palfrey Park DH 1965

Which is the way to Palfrey Park? I used to know,

I used to go.

And under all weather conditions. Two by two we marched, under the watchful Kellys’ eye. Comb over and all. Boys for the football, no change, no kit. Our Football Boots were all that we needed.

On green grassy field we played the game. In that urban park, planted in the middle of nowhere. We were about nine years old.

Once when walking I heard my first shaggy dog story, told by my marching partner, Adrian Tams. It involves a mouse and a two tone white number seventeen London Transport double decker bus. I listened and remembered the whole story, for all the twenty one minutes it took to tell.

Adrian was killed nine years later, crushed under his car whilst fixing a fault, when it collapsed off the jack.

Copyright 2020 Christopher Thompson.

All rights reserved.

H.F.O. The Sharing of Loving is Life

Metamorphic,
Igneous,
Sedimentary.
Are these not the cornerstones
On which.
A Church can be built?
And the silt of ages,
Rubbed from such fabrics as these,
Cloud and make milky the baptismal flood,
Stifling as it chokes off the breath of Spirit of life.
It is these Tangible distractions,
These edges, these edges over or by which we decent,
To our base selves.
When all this while,
Love and trust and service are all that are needed.
To neutralise all which brings fear
And eventually clogs the human heart.
Give love, give yourself.
There is only time enough
In which to help each other.
Love is goodness,
Even exothermic.

©2019 Christopher Thompson
All rights reserved

Inspirational

This is me at home thinking about some ideas. Honestly.

We Are Vapour

We are vapor, Even in our own eyesimg_0107-2.jpg, We delineate our lives to fit the time we think we have.
Never really knowing the extent of existence or the limits.
This is the chasm of reality which confounds our means of escape. Death rides ahead and is ready to act.
We are the phantoms.
The elixir is Oxygen.
The limit profoundness.
There is at least one open door in every room, which offers a way out. It is however not our decision when it should be used.
Always death is riding ahead.
Life for the present is in the present.

There will be no extension of your allotted time. Chemistry has no mind to grant extra life. Choose now as your destiny.

©2019 Words & Photography Christopher Thompson
all rights reserved
We Are Vapour 

Rush Poetry; Fast To Publish

The Solus Draft.

Here is a time critical approach to poetic composition. The idea of speed writing is not new. As this is not short poetry, the length of a composition is irrelevant. The time taken to the set down the Solus Draft to publishing on the web site is the goal. There must be no revision after publication.  The piece should stand as complete in the stated time frame.

This is my attempt at writing poetry in a time efficient way with recorded information made available on completion of a piece.

The recorded information is:-

  1. Copyrighted date.
  2. Place of composition/writing.
  3. Start time inc time zone.
  4. Completion time inc. time zone.

Should a piece ever be subjected to the riggers of hermeneutic analysis this information will be available to the analysist.

Example:

Questionable

If evolution 
Turns out to be
Only a work in process,
Will Winter always follow the Fall?
Or is it all a matter of perspective?
So where is the Fall in the Deserts?

Clever Chemicals,
Bright Sparks,
Macro or Micro
Steady Timescape or Expansionist?
Singularity or Heaven?
Ghost, God or Chance?

Who is helping with these enquiries?

© 2018 Christopher Thompson  Written in England Rush Poem, (Fast Press) Started 01-08-18 @ 7.04pm Done @ 7.17pm.GMT

In Anamnesis – This Time (Will Never Leave You).

In Anamnesis. This Time (Will Never Leave You).

If the first thought was of love
The second must be of obsession.
There is no getting rid of these feelings
Liking or loving or contentment,
Neither is harmful,
Yet.

You are not alone,
Or are you?
Love needs to be reciprocal.
You are living your feelings
So you are definite.
Most probably.
And the eyes have it to the right.
Now where is your head,
Where are your heels?
Submerged, you may forget to breathe.
Do not panic.

It’s just like palpitations.
Then there is the force,
Or rather the drive to consider.
You need to talk.
Don’t begin at the beginning
You will be a bore.
Just be like it is,
Countenance is measurable
Subconsciously.
Just be real.
Do not burst open,
Just blow your flame gently.

Rise up, but also know your limit.
If falling over your words
Causes laughter,
You are like a Prince, and charming.
Do not grip your heart
In a steel gloved hand,
Rather offer it openly as your gift.
You cannot lose
That which you freely give.

In truth your love is always present.
Be patient.
Love wonders a meandering path.
Your route to anothers’ heart is understanding that.
If you land on deaf words
Relax and touch your own heart.
Firstly you are misunderstanding your situation.
Secondly you are at cross paths.
You are kind but you are mistaken.
So leave your love to go.
Letting your lover go.
Is the hardest way.

In anamnesis, this time will never leave you.

© 2014-18  Christopher Thompson All Rights Reserved

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