Abbey Poems
(2015)
Christopher Sanderson A Coastmoor Publication
Abbey Poems
(2015)
Christopher Sanderson A Coastmoor Publication
©Christopher Sanderson 2015 All Rights Reserved
Introduction
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Beside The Stream :: Beyond The Cross
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Lest There Be :: Any Misunderstanding
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Belong :: With Those Who Belong
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Breathing :: Meditation
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Distracted :: By Distractions
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Repetition :: Definition
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Love Of All :: Love Of Nothing
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Out There :: Further Out :: Here
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Gardeners :: Poets
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Head :: Screws Off
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Private :: Gardens, Woodlands & Walks
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Analysis :: Sat On The Front Bench
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Grounds :: + Al Fresco Cafeteria
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Swirls :: In Time In Time
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It Isn't :: Rather It Is
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Gravestones :: And Plain Crosses
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Straight :: And True
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Last Thoughts :: First Thoughts
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Introduction In August 2015 I set off from Lincolnshire, for a short retreat with the monks at Buckfastleigh Abbey in Devon. It is a place I know reasonably well but I had never been to the silent-side so to speak. I stopped off at Dartmoor along the way; sat by a stream near Challacombe Cross, then took photographs of an outcrop of rocks near Widecombe-in-the-Moor. I also visited the Meditation Garden at Darlington Hall during my stay. The poems are a reflection of what one reflects upon once silence is with you, when silence becomes part of the daily routine. A routine which began with Vigils at 5:45AM and ended with Compline at 9:30 PM I am very fortunate to have been gifted both time and health to undertake this journey. The support of those close to me should become apparent through the writing. I would though like to take this opportunity to thank profoundly everyone who has helped me to get this far. It is my wish to say thanks to the monks, especially to brother Daniel, whose natural eye for detail, and willingness to care for all, kept everyone on the path. I do so so hope to be back. Christopher August 2015 
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Beside The Stream :: Beyond The Cross Was it you That I came here for Or is it myself That I seek out once more Thistles by the stream Pebbles in the water Love of breath, and breeze Alive, here and now; to dream Bird-box on the tree trunk Lichen-cobwebs on the branches Life of ages in each and every leaf Alive, here and now; to believe The outcrop bears no names No prior memories erupt From the fierce-thrown granite Alive, here an now; to climb Somehow we find symmetry As in sunlight, as in shadow As on balmy days also with rain Alive, here & now; to feel To feel magnificent pleasure To feel immeasurable pain 
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Lest There Be :: Any Misunderstanding I am here to stay Just for a few days I say the words slowly, carefully In case they should believe I am here to stay any longer I am seeking No more than sunshine and rain Perhaps a stroll on Totnes Plains Or an hour or two In Dartington Hall's Meditation Garden I did not mean to cry But cry I must Cry tears of joy For the vase of Lavender By the half-barrel Full of pebbles and water Outside 30 Victoria Road’s Refurbished Old Stables 
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Belong :: With Those Who Belong The bell tolls The bird sings I believe there is lavender In the garden The body breathes The mind thinks I believe we may find peace In the soul The light grows The darkness recedes I believe we may find balance In the margins The doors open The doors close I believe we may find each other In that place in-between 
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Breathing :: Meditation In Out
That I know this pavilion That I might be at peace, in this well-made pavilion
In That I know this Japanese garden Out That I might be at peace, in this place of meditation
In That I have been here before Out That I might, I might just be, beginning to know the way 
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Distracted :: By Distractions I sat, restless Yet I had come to this place For another purpose completely I decided to trick myself Said I was writing a poem Instead of doing meditation The Meditation Gods heard me Added We can use that With the in breath, with the out breath After no more than a few repetitions Came upon me a certainty I believed in them, profusely I became calm I made the audio recording Shyly The young couple listened, then smiled Is this what true success really feels like 
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Repetition :: Definition With more practice With more love Ratchet up the act Turn all fractures to love Find a way into the music Take a walk in the park Make your contribution Soft voices after dark Use words for substitution In the raising of the lark Find a way into her music Take her to the Isle of Sark With more practice With more love Patch up any indifferences Turn all the latches to love 
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Love Of All :: Love Of Nothing For love man will give up all his worldly possessions and think nothing of his loss - Song of Songs The tone Of the timbre is ended The pews Are quiet for another hour The rattle Of the ancient throats is over The stage Is set for silence to flower The tone Of the timbre is ended The pews Are quiet for another hour The rattle Of the ancient throats is over The stage Is now set for silence to flower The tone Of the timbre is ended The pews Are quiet for another hour The rattle Of the ancient throats is over The stage Is now then set for silence to flower  23
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Out There :: Further Out :: Here Vastness of love Immense light of love Touching love Touching the very extremes of love Core of love Folklore of love Days I swore of love Swore of the ways of love, the truth of love Care and despair of love Flare up and repair of love Feeling for love Feeling for your share of love, your lair of love Benches of love Broken fences of love Days entrenched with love To set out the embryonic words of love 
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Gardeners :: Poets The tremulous scent Of new-mown grass I head to the river I head to the woods Past the gift shop Past the flower filled Horse troughs A track Through the trees To a clearing up top I hang my camera On the five-bar gate What I wouldn't give To share a cigarette I didn't stay long Thoughts of you Overwhelmed me Absent minded I forgot the camera Breathless, and mindless I had to return 
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Head :: Screws O PS Just to let you know How mightily you affected me I left the camera for a second time So now that makes it Three times that I have climbed this track And I have never, ever Not ever done that, or its like before For any other woman 
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Private :: Gardens, Woodlands & Walks There is a wide footpath (Sometimes it becomes a stream) Beside the River Dart There are gullies Cut every so often down the bank To relieve the flood-waters Beyond the waterfall The path becomes A single foot-fall way There is a log By a calm stretch, a lull I think to sit down Then I see the flies, and the midges Hovering, skating on the surface I am in no mood for being bitten I go back whence the way I came 
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Analysis :: Sat On The Front Bench The exceptional thing is not the memory For many places have sufficient ambiance Or artefacts, to remind us of previous occasions Of significant, if not always peak, experiences What is exceptional is the forgetfulness That the strength of that far distant memory And the fierce, forceful, feelings which it invoked Should destroy all contemporaneous thought Not only that, but also That the effect should have such lasting powers For how long you ask, until the laughter subsides? Until one stops taking oneself insidiously serious 
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Grounds :: + Al Fresco Cafeteria I am learning about how The bishop might seal his letter Also how to recognise a bishop By the large cross he wears I think this might be the new Deacon speaking But to be honest I don't really know my bishops from my deacons Though I do know, that this lad can talk a bit But the old monk, with the bowed back And the unkempt remnants of curly hair He spoke better I would say; he had a voice With the quiet calm of supreme authority
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Swirls :: In Time In Time If I wasn't on my own Would it matter If I wasn't here alone Would my thoughts scatter To the four winds If I couldn't stop without care Would that be a trouble If I couldn't just go on anywhere Would I turn back at the double To the four winds If I hadn't held you so close Might you not be my star If you hadn't been the one I chose Might you not travel so far To the four winds 
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It Isn't :: Rather It Is It isn't the river Flowing by the ivy tree Rather it's another memory Which I hoped you'd see It isn't the flowers Wafting in the breeze Rather it's another likeness I hoped we'd seize It isn't the ritual Of prayer on bended knees Rather it's another moment For our dreams to release It isn't the habit Or the desire to freeze Rather it's another opening Or a page to crease 
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Gravestones :: And Plain Crosses Dames and priests you took your time When time and love was all you had Today, in less-firm ground, you form a line With peace and hope, abroad and glad I'm on retreat and doing fine There are a few rules, but none so bad I'm up at five, to go and listen to your kind Then I write, sometimes happy, sometimes sad Making a few memories before I too recline Wondering about the Italian, playing the strad The German monk, 8 years he's sought the sign I came with nothing, a simple country lad It's an awful poem, without form or design And there's no hope of rescue for it's just a fad When you don't know where you are going It is easy to break with the traditional 
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Straight :: And True Thirty one BB Twenty four BC One hundred and eighty seven Or 15 and 7/12 Twenty two Seventeen Five Nought One or twelve Nine or one hundred and eight And ongoing There are months There are years There was much confusion It's not about anything The days have been and gone The tears left, only to reappear Nothing is as nothing was Yes there were firecrackers And there are the Old Stables You couldn't make it up But it's true it happened Yes, it's true, it is happening still 
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Last Thoughts :: First Thoughts I wrap my arms around you Pull you close It is the end of this day The night is now beginning I wrap my arms around you Pull you close We are the love together Our hold is our beginning You wrap your arms around me Pull me close It is the beginning of our night The end of this good day You wrap your arms around me Pull me close We are the love together Our love is our beginning 
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