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    Twenty-First Century Renderings
    Twenty-First Century Renderings
    Twenty-First Century Renderings
    Ebook81 pages37 minutes

    Twenty-First Century Renderings

    By Christopher Dadson

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    About this ebook

    Twenty-First Century Renderings is a first collection of poems about love, culture and poetic influence from a new British poet, Christopher Dadson.

    In this collection, Christopher explores themes of change, constancy and conflict through a broad range of forms and styles, from traditional sonnets and ballads through lyrical and dramatic monologue, to free verse and longer narrative styles.

    His poems are straightforward on the surface but contain echoes of English and Spanish language poets through the ages, resulting in a contemporary collection that draws equally on early modern poetic tradition and present day experience.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAustin Macauley Publishers
    Release dateJan 31, 2019
    ISBN9781528944694
    Twenty-First Century Renderings
    Author

    Christopher Dadson

    Christopher Dadson is a British poet and playwright. He was born in 1982 in Belfast and received degrees in English and Latin American Studies from Cambridge and London universities respectively. He currently lives with his wife and son in London, where he works full time in the charity sector and writes poetry and plays in his spare time.

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      Book preview

      Twenty-First Century Renderings - Christopher Dadson

      5LQ

      Together

      And what is love, and what is not love,

      Need we ask anyone to tell us these things?

      When you walk down the ordinary streets

      No one recognises you, except me.

      No one sees the rose petals before you

      Nor the diamonds on your crown

      But you are, nonetheless, my queen.

      Wait for me during these difficult days

      And I will wait for you with hope.

      Though you and I are not now the we

      We were, yet, see: the sun, it always rises.

      When good things come, they will come

      Not single babes but nurseries full.

      Though one day, we will face each other

      Across the sundering water, and you, or I,

      Will wander with woes o’er bent

      To daily wake lost and lonely

      And wonder why love’s thus been rent,

      Even so, give me your hand: together

      We’ll yet scale the remotest heights

      Full of eyries and deep echoes.

      Whether under the ever-ready thunder

      Or hammer strokes of the sun

      We will outlast this difficult time.

      Still fragrant flower, rolled

      By the roistering wind, petal shedding

      But thorn unsheathed, spirit ready;

      Come, let’s hand in hand dare time

      Take on the infinity of you and me.

      The Chord

      A house is not its walls and roof

      It is its door, the meeting place.

      A pair in flight beyond reproof

      In single pattern trace their space.

      The world made hearts to paint it bright

      Our selves were joined to paint it right.

      Being is where skins touch and thrill.

      Loving’s when me is lost in we.

      Twinned in temper, alike in will,

      Allied as one, though two we be.

      Heart chords were fashioned to be strung

      For Nature sought her songs be sung.

      The more your love I look to woo

      The more I find you’ve given free;

      This joyous song I penned for you

      To voice the love you gifted me.

      May heart chords enmeshed guitar-tight

      Strum our two souls to unknown height.

      The Doctor

      Amber streaks her hair like honey

      Dawn shines bright through opening eyes

      Morning ripens in this chamber

      Love lights our lips and warms our sides.

      Your touch mended the injury

      That rankled my embittered soul,

      Which before had loved in error

      Needing you to make me whole.

      O good doctor, though far away

      Your healing hand is with me still,

      A flame that wind shan’t ever sway,

      A fiery beacon on a hill.

      If living tests love to the death

      Will we both wait till our last breath?

      Our Garden

      Sweetest breath announcing morning stirring

      Raining kisses on the bud of my eye,

      A flood of love from she, ever giving

      Replacing slumber with heavenly sky.

      Mid-summer’s warmest caress is nothing

      Compared to her touch, which reaches deeper.

      An English garden in beauty blooming

      Cannot match the scent my rose does offer.

      Scene repeating, oh let’s play it again!

      Like the vortex, shape unchanging, love flows

      From she, to me; always now, never

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