by phillipw | Aug 13, 2019 | RE
And Lifted Up If poets and composers failed to come, Then who would write the hymns for Venus, Mars, And Jupiter? Our race would be a numb Excuse for souls. If none could look at stars Through telescopes, or build an altar, then Existing would become a blankness. ...
by phillipw | Aug 13, 2019 | GA, GL, KI, PA
Alone and Unsupported Within our little lifetimes heroes rose More great than Heracles, and greater than Achilles’ myth. John Glenn and Yuri froze Out Jason in his little Argo. Man Leapt up beyond the earth, up past the sky, Beyond the stratosphere, where...
by phillipw | Aug 12, 2019 | PH
Perhaps (Once Eons Go) Perhaps (once eons go) the universe Will disappear. At last a lingering glow Will fill the nothingness. It will immerse The vacuum in something like the flow Of honey waves that were my mother’s hair. Perhaps the endless...
by phillipw | Aug 12, 2019 | SH
Sonnets A friend of Constable said Virgil’s sense He gained from culture drove him to presume That prime boys were “the height of excellence.” This point was made in tones of sneering fume, As if bad smoke made in a third-rate pipe Had found its way...
by phillipw | Aug 12, 2019 | EN
Jerusalem His face is mild, as mild as Elgar chords Set down on paper, or a late June day In Gloucestershire, as mild as sleeping lords In Parliament. His young beard’s a display Of masculinity, or maybe just A statement of his academic bent. That’s more...
by phillipw | Aug 12, 2019 | OB
Forget the Starving Children in China We used to think the world was square and flat And we the hub for planets and the sun, But now we know that we are round and fat. The folk, I mean: we’re having too much fun. We’re doing all we can to put on weight....
by phillipw | Aug 12, 2019 | BR, CL
He’s Out of Place Here He’s out of place here, looks like he’s a fan Of Manchester United, one who stands Among the other scarf-draped blokes. A man With snub nose, eyebrows thick like black iron bands Is reading here. A sloping forehead, small...
by phillipw | Aug 12, 2019 | AD, AL, DR
Outside the British Museum Of course I cannot speak. I’m crammed with drugs And all the shit that comes with them. I’ve turned Intelligence to stupid drawl. The dugs Of chemical addiction leave my burned Synapses tottering. They’re like a man...
