Abbey Poems
(2018)
Christopher Sanderson
A Coastmoor Publication
Abbey Poems
(2018)
Christopher Sanderson
A Coastmoor Publication
©Christopher Sanderson 2017 All Rights Reserved
Letting Go
Hanging On 
Contents Introduction
9
Entry Point
11
Limerence
12
Be
13
Obligations
14
Carpet Covered With Flies
15
Savour
16
Travel Time
17
Back Steps
18
As Found, As Defined
19
Absent, All But One
20
Internet Free Space
21
Withheld, Upheld
22
Restrained
23
Say It No More
24
07:45 Lauds
25
Names, Places
26
Displacement
27
First Moments Taken
28
Amen
29
Clothe The Cloth
30
Passing
31
Room
32
All Dressed Up With Nowhere To Go 33
By Our Side
34
Undercover
35
Sidelined, Misaligned
36
Change
37
Previous
38
Time Pieces
39
Replacement
40
Recoil
41
Introduction
October 2018, I arrived on a Saturday, after a night of poetry and music, in the Old Stables back in Louth. A six hour straightforward mostly motorway drive, with a stop-off at Cribbs Causeway in Bristol for lunch. This time not to be met by brother Daniel, instead I have to find out the duty steward, who turns out to be another monk, I think, from his accent, he is of Welsh descent. A bigger room than on previous occasions, which looked fine until I saw the mound of dead flies on the carpet beneath the window. I sought out the vacuum cleaner, soon all was good to go again. I missed the first three meals with the monks, instead I turned to the restaurant which now had longer opening hours. Going to the monastery is an attempt to go a little deeper into contemplation, into writing. I don’t know if I achieved that, but I do know that writing this up six weeks distant, I have written what I would not have written at home. Enjoy Christopher 2018  9
Entry Point The door slams shut behind me The sign on the door says Enclosure Strictly Private I have left the choir practising They will be back at seven For the real reason thing I am in a different room Which will, I think, be quieter Though it is beside the kitchen I have left my charging devices For iPad and iPhone at home Also the wheat bag John asked Do you stay in a monastery cell No It is en-suite with a carpeted floor A mock, log-effect, electric fire Yet there is peace Other than the wind noises It is entirely quiet A good place for a few days 
Limerence I don’t ever let go Neither will I, on this day Saturday night Is alright for dancing, as they say Down down, deeper and down Beyond the fires flickering flame Further even than the howling wind Closer up, than the lead on the windows Tip tap goes the snapped glass Pass yourself off as a lover do you The one-time mother of intervention Sense all of what it is which I sense I say Turn over a new leaf That last fallen leaf of autumn Snatch the glory from the thief With the intensity of such fond belief I would have asked, but didn’t For fear of what we now call rejection Such attention which overcomes With howls, with tears, with despair I do hope to explain, in the coming days I have brought a book to help me Yet, in this moment, or so it seems We are the first case study
Be The enclosures of silence Umpteen walls, floors Doors, corridors Take us to and from The rooms of silence It is dusk, as I walk From the restaurant Where they have wi-fi access Why in this half-light Do I feel so empowered So smitten By the castle like stone As if I was In that other-worldly place Of all knowing, of all being Ever so serious In a space I call Peace, truth, beauty, love For I know No better words 
Obligations A rugby match Between Exeter And some place in France A wild windy Saturday When the English Were expected to win I did go to a game in Bodmin Or was it Truro Something to do with work Corporate entertainment, me Turning out to support the cause I think you stayed home Which maybe Is where you are now Although you too Could be turning out Also for the cause As you might well say 
Carpet Covered With Flies The fly disturbs the silence More so Now that the fan of the fire Is no more The two minds of the mind Claim the silence One is ok with silence One is not so sure The curtains are closed Closing the window Cuts out the wind noise A giant spider appears It raises within me Such hypersensitivity That I now hear music As if in the very walls As if also out in the night Did then the spider eat the fly Or did it die As all of those others had, before it 
Savour The only thing Which is either deep Or significant In that last but one piece Are the sloping margins Which I believe are there Through a potent mixture Of doubt, with a pinch of ecstasy Doubt; because it was Because it is, because It most certainly may be, because Most likely, it always bloody well will be Ecstasy - well, once you Have been there you have Been there haven’t you, no More to say than that O what a mixture though A veritable bacon and brown Sauce of a taste; a modus operandi For the blessed, for the cursed 
Travel Time It is as it is The pain precludes sleep The pain insists on waking The pain pushes, or questions All limits of mind, of body Of love, of loss This is the first night There will be others Times, without sleep Without mind, without love Yet there will be meditation In the middle of the night Or at 03:39 to be precise Not exactly on the dance floor Though we could be flying out To some villa in Tuscany for a wedding 
Back Steps I gave to you, that is I gave I to you Or so I thought Completely You took that I Gave things From you to I To bring that I to life I grew that I With your gifts The I prospered Yet, soon I began talking About people You, I, we submerged Disappeared from view I raised my head You remained hidden It is, so I now understand It is what, people, do 
As Found, As Defined Six monks in their place Me, and one other In the pews World without end This is the monks First morning meditation They are more settled Than I was The Gyrovague Who drifts from region to region Staying as a guest For three or four nights I never settle, slave to my own will To my gross appetites Worse than a Sarabite Pray keep silent of my ways 
Absent, All But One I am here You are not The clock only ticks In the silence of darkness It does this, this year Next year, every year As if it also knows That xxxxxxx is the cruelest month Why did you choose it For your birthday What’s that you say It wasn’t up to you Rather it was your parents Who were to blame It was their peak experience moment Which brought you to me Yet here you are not Neither they No, it is only I for whom The clock ticks, in the darkness
Internet Free Space I am able to send letters by post But cannot email Or send text In that sense I am incommunicado Which, if I rightly recall Is one of the reasons Why I came here Another was to walk by the river Though today it is raining From first light Also forecast for the rest of the day Which, if I rightly recall Is how the weather was Thirty or so years ago I have a chair to sit on Also a chair at my desk With a lamp to light There is a telephone I don’t know if it works (it doesn’t) It will not make outgoing calls Nor will it receive calls from beyond
Withheld, Upheld In the one place Which is in the other place I reveal all that I am able In another place Which is in this place I hide all of which I am culpable Like cat and mouse Or more apt, as spider and fly I test the culpable with the able Not that on the cross He had any knowledge of this For no guidance is offered To hide or to reveal Two sides of the same coin Before into the fountain it is thrown The shadow, the light Salt flakes in salt cellars It is what it is 
Restrained The telephone says no To the dialled number zero Which, for me Cuts out all of the folk that I know Not that I truly know all that many No point though In feeling sorry for myself Although, to be honest It is something I do do rather well You see even now it is raining It is quite likely To rain all day long Which may make it tricky To take photographs Or to walk beside the river No point though At this moment in time In kicking up a fuss Which, to be perfectly honest I am not quite so good at 
Say It No More I might not even be here After all, there is Absolutely no incoming communication I have been, as it were ex-communicated If that rings true What is that song about spiders There is a song isn’t there Also a book about disquiet Yes I am certain to have read it If there is a plan Then this is the plan Bare oneself To the wave after wave of nothingness Riot after riot of unanswerable questions With or without The headphones With or without Any prior knowledge It is after all why I came here To feel the ache of lost love To feel the pain of lost love To wallow in the decrepitness of such loss In the very very middle Of the darkest of the darkness of night 
07:45 Lauds Nine monks in their place Eight in the congregation Myself included Candles Artificial light True light As the day begins With call and response Accompanied By the new organ New to me that is Installed and commissioned Since my last visit I cannot find its sound Although so so easily I can feel it, I can hear it The reverberations settle within me They set me free, they gift me life 
Names, Places The photograph Of the crucifixion Is by David Elford We used to live At Elford Park, actually It is from there that we parted That picture Above the fireplace Is dated 2014 The one to the side Also by David Elford Is dated 2009 Though that one is however Mostly of blue sky With hazy white cloud It is a little less certain A little less Finite 
Displacement On my own Only four monks so far Surely more will arrive Seven monks now But still just me in the pews What is contemplation for What is contemplation for Is it a test of one’s doubts Or is it to purge one’s doubts Life without end Life without end One more parishioner joins me Maybe he is Italian Or Eastern European He was late yesterday also Should I buy him a watch What are his troubles What are his troubles World without end World without end My sons, my daughter My partner, my ex Another one now relegated
First Moments Taken As you wake Are you present With the presence you gave As you bathe Are you awash With those whom you washed As you eat Are you fed By those who you fed As you dressed Are you undressed By those who undressed for you As you walk Do you walk By those who walked to be beside you As you talk Are your words heard By those words spoken by, or for you 
Amen Four in the congregation Am I really one of them Eight monks One creaking seat (mine) World without end Amen Song of Songs For love man will give up All that he has in this world And not worry for his loss World without end Amen 
Clothe The Cloth As you undress I undress slowly As you stand still I stand also In the silence With only breath For words Is it truthful To talk, at this time Of being faithful Or being Unfaithful Did we not give ourselves To each other Did we not, for those moments Find joy, find love As you undress, slowly I undress beside you As you also stand, still I stand to be there with you 
Passing Lace scarf, black Lace trim to the skirt Is she in mourning She casts off Her Barbour raincoat I am who I am Who else am I to be Do not submit to the yoke of slavery Let us love In order that we can Face up to our difficulties 
Room Happy times Yes happy times I’ve spent here Yet also a few sad times A place for passing through Has become A place for retreat With a bedroom A desk, a lamp, a shower A sitting chair, a wardrobe Also a spider And yesterday, on arrival A floor, covered In dead flies Maybe the cleaners Were Buddhists Who could not face vacuuming Once living insects I had no such doubts Always keen to sweep up dust Whoever’s doors, it happened To have accumulated behind As you may well recall
All Dressed Up With Nowhere To Go Peace be with you As you receive Peace be with you As you taste, as you play Eight monks Five in white One of which, the elder Has tangerine trimmings Ten in the congregation Only I did not go forwards Peace be with you as you play A piece of theatre, stage direction By the guy who did Same as it’s ever been But each year one less monk This time the absent one Was the big, miserable Looking chap, who went out at night With an umbrella 
By Our Side I lay with you, I lay with you I lay with you tonight I stay with you, I stay with you I stay with you till light As rivers flow, with signs to go There is a place to be For oceans swell, with waves that tell There is a source indeed Where picture cards are played so hard To find a way for angst to cease Let us be free, in time with me Before the county treatises I lay with you, I lay with you I lay with you tonight I stay with you, I stay with you I stay with you till light As woodlands grow, to shelter so There is a clearing in there too As birch with branch this life of chance Is somewhat a useful threat to lead Where dice do roll and stories unfold For there will be a well worn crease Let you be free, in line with me Beyond the county treatises I lay with you, I lay with you I lay with you tonight I stay with you, I stay with you I stay with you till light 
Undercover I did not find that deeper place There you go now Giving up already I did not touch a face to more Be away with you You never even tried I did see a majestic sky Out to the west Miles and miles away O give over with you now To be sure you had a camera And probably a tripod But it is beyond the face Beyond the sky That I am looking for You know, that nothingness Which is rammed full Of meaning You’d be wanting not a little ecstasy I shouldn’t wonder But you have to go a fair way for that
Sidelined, Misaligned Another one now relegated As also she relegated me Yet a page here to chase her A page to redistribute words Love calls out For love to be returned Without the return of love It is no longer love It may once have been love But it is love no more Which I accept Which I struggle to accept What I fail to see What I have failed to see What I have chosen to see I have also chosen not to see I walk slowly, I walk slowly Jealousy is the most hideous withering evil It finds a rose tree and leaves a stick I was jealous, I am jealous No matter how you call out to jealousy Jealousy does not ever go away
We live with our eyes wide open - Hubert van Zeller 
Change There is less Less to connect to The chapel closed Filled with scaffolding The restaurant open All hours now No more waiting Or more longing Brother Daniel away All routines broken This may be the last time This time I may leave early Although In the early hours In the dark silence One light is sufficient To gift a purpose To grant a stay of execution If only I had bought that candle And the box Of everlasting matches 
Previous See how much easier When the practice Has been practiced The words fall one by one Onto a satisfied Smile of a face A smile, with a body Which walks Without weight or pain The skies stepped on one by one Light as air Not a care in the world So comfortable In her own skin of skin Skimming pebbles over the pond The gondola’s Are tomorrow’s treat So neat to be so neat Without a single taste of defeat Always the victorious Just occasionally the notorious As on that occasion No, no point here of persuasion I must keep her secret
Time Pieces Nine monks Ten, with me, in the congregation It is a well made bench The new garden Not quite so well made They are, in business speak Sweating the assets I am losing my belonging The love affair is over As was the last love affair A long long time ago No amount of treacle tart Or clotted cream Can make up for the lost ground I will leave tomorrow In search of a new inspiration The Italian Or did I decide he was Eastern European He arrives late; actually, every time He has attended, he has turned in late And that it seems is what it’s coming to 
Replacement I have lost one And I have found one Is that now How it is always to be I’m not certain That I deserve such love But it is there So I will share it Not that I will pester No For in the past That plan got me nowhere Though neither will I be Silent For also in the past That method achieved diddly-squat I have found one And I don’t want to lose him That is How it is always to be I’m not certain That we deserve each other But we have it So pray let us share it
Recoil Let me remember the beauty The well-lit interior The stained glass chapel The trumpets for the organ Let me remember the kindness Brother Daniel Keeping law and order Keeping everything moving Let me think on Of walks in the gardens Of walks by the river Of the path up through the woods Don’t let me slip into the miasma Of this, the back-end of autumn Of rain, of wind Of overcast skies Always remind me Of the hug from my son Of his kind, loving girlfriend Who brings him such joy 
Abbey Poems (2018)
A Coastmoor Publication