Biography of Christopher Withers
I guess I try to explore things which are not easily graspable with words.
I try to write pieces which evoke 'something'. I try to write pieces that I myself would like to read. Ultimately, I try to write away from the well worn path that poetry usually treads.
My writing is first draft, and I hope I am improving.
Some day, I might write the piece which truely defines that 'something' I feel.
Christopher Withers Poems
vision stunted by past deeds leading to my current place, childhood face: disconnected, now adrift on stagnant lake.
Life is fake, life is real,
screaming bombs fall from the sky darkness washes out the eye hidden people start to die
Death Is Cold
death is just cold.
The Watcher Is Watched
I watch myself watch myself watching their dance, my action is actioned
Do not Be frightened of the 'life', The path which leads through shadows reach -
Frozen Moments And You
a surge of grief washes my senses, seeming to ride the dim, blue, evening light, and suddenly i realise, that
Together We Crumble, Stumble, And Fall
our future together, we weave from crystal strands, each of which diffracts the sunlight into rainbow hues, painting our hopes, dreams and intentions
needing the bathroom late at night, silently, i feel my way through the darkness, slowly across the bedroom floor. being careful not to trip or bang, i’m
i search, i look for sublime touch, of meaning in the dirt and dust.
A Study In What Not To Do
Deadlines besiege me, as stress pennoned limbs ache for action, yet, procrastination consumes me. I know relief will come, when: task complete I can truly unbend, sit back and relax.
Questions On Death
a lack of memories prior to birth instils not dread or fear, so why, i question does the thought of similar
The Shimmering Sun's Eternal Wake
the sun becomes an incandescent sword, a shimmering arc, drawn across the rivers surface, as laughter rings out - scaring into flight,
Love Entangles Semantics
what is Love? indeed, what is it to Love? how can one glance truth, fight through the ingrained gloss
Frozen Moments And You
a surge of grief washes my senses,
seeming to ride the dim,
blue, evening light, and
suddenly i realise, that
this moment will soon be over -
never to be replayed,
that this life will soon be over -
always to be forgotten,
and that which i am, will fade -