Poetry Blog by Philipos

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People say things in

a much different way

behind your back, than

if you were in the room.

Why is that I ask, that sets

some tongues awash with

mean mouthed mealy talk.

The erudite Cardinal Newman

wrote about it in an earlier

tome – my views now intone

his word wise worldly ways.

Don’t let the gnomes of

slander let you do their

dirty work – unlike o...

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Padget had a gadget

and Bridgette had a

Widget – the trouble

though with Padget

was he sometimes liked

to fidget – and Bridgette

said, I’m not coming in

here again – and Padget

said, ‘Some things are

better left unsaid.' And

he turned bright red. So

Bridgette said – Shall we

go back to bed again and

Padget said, ‘No, Friar Tuck

might soon return and I


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Now living in the south

i see the southerners with

southern ways – especially

if I enter a pub for a bite to

eat, my favourite treat.

Having now adjusted to

these local practices and

go to visit in the north, I see

in Nottingham that dress

down days do not apply.

If colliery men go pubbing

for an ale or Sunday grub, they

present as smart, in ties and

suits an...

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Sometimes it is possible

for a lady to enter the

door marked Gents to

spend a pretty penny.

– She might get some

funny looks and see the

row of Percy’s pointing

to the porcelain. It often

happens at my local pub,

a Wetherspoons in the

centre of Woking. I think

H.G.WELLS, after whom it

is named, would be up in

a hot air balloon about it.

As might the creepy...

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My boots are new

I grant you that,

having no doubt of

it, but of the origins

of their component

parts that’s where a

murky doubt begins.

Say part of them is from

the latex trees Malaysia

knows too well – but end

up in the sweat shops of

an oriental assembly line,

who then calls a piper’s tune

backing up worker’s welfare,

and their breaks from slog.

Or k...

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It’s strange what we think of

as life rolls by – for me as a kid

it was the river Alt, which cut

through the fields of a farmer’s

land where the nifty nymphs

danced with damsel flies, and

newts and the frogs had a

merry old time, ducking from

sight when we all climbed down

viewing activity nature displayed

in a random way or so it seemed

in the aftermath of the sec...

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They come in various types

the snazzy and the low zone

modes – the ones you see inside

the malls where quality and style

beguile the buyer’s sense of taste

in favour of good bargain rates.

On marching men and female types

who fight our wars – we pause to

honour those who gave their lives

in favour of a wider nobler cause.

And there are shoes for cavalry

horses too ...

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Into the lake I dipped my toes

watching the minnows as they

swam in technicolour shoals until

they took to their hidey-holes in

places hard to see with naked eyes

beneath the shadow of the skies

now turning dark storm black as

corgis and the sheepdogs hurried

past urged by their owners to comply

and headed to the car park where

vehicles were kept and fumb...

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Shoe Zone the foot wear suppliers

like to keep you updated via their

email service at every stage from

ordering to collection at one of their

outlets – they tell you when the shoes

are due to leave the processing point

and they use a lot of updates to convey

their scintillating messages. I received

such a message today to tell me that

they were 'excited' to let me know m...

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In the picture circa

1910 which is in sepia,

a junk cart trundles by

as a horse is glimpsed

harness tied and reined

to a wagon, containing

discarded bicycles and

likewise bric-a-brac of

then. If ghosts of carts

could speak what could

be said of it all – the big

the smaller articles, now

destined for the melting

pot, of long past time.

The grime and smoke


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I’ve been in dodgy joints throughout

my varied life – strife uppermost at

times – and now my joints are dodgy

too. Is that a coming together by my

various parts in sympathy – and know

me better than I know myself. Mirroring

in memory the schoolboy’s happenstance

who sailed when tides were right to Curacao

and sun drenched destinations where dusky

damsels dwelt  giving sm...

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Must I serve thee like a summer’s day

thy breath’s more rancid than a Danish

Blue – with use by date much overdue.

What’s that you say – Malvolia has a much

bigger cod piece than the one I have below.

Show mercy on my pride you so and so – for

Shakespeare with his quill may soon appear

and have you sent behind the prison walls.

What rhymes with ‘walls’ now let me think


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Our bodies are such amazing things

pores, sensory parts, her and I just

enjoying our naked togetherness,

unhurried, and not in the least bit are

either of us inhibited. After the coming

out of it and a feeling of a pent up

release, she gives a wistful squeak

and says teasingly, 'Do you come

here often?' And I reply, 'Only with

the owners permission.' And she,

all spar...

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In the crevices of my labyrinth

mind – I am still with Mother

hiding under the stairs and she

who never went to church, was

chiding the almighty – asking if,

and when, the bombing would

finally come to an end, so that

the ambulances might come and

take away the dead and wounded

from the nearby homes, whose

moans of pain were sounding

through the broken window glass...

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Last night I dreamt

I walked through mists

of Woking’s fog bound

obelisks, I saw the homeless in

the streets with hands stretched

out in need of meat and so I

wandered to the Coign, placing

coppers on the plate, in hopes

that blessings may accrue to feed

the needy as they queue – or dossed

in damp dank sleeping bags – mere

waifs, gaunt-faced, like hunted...

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Last night I dreamt

I walked through mist

along the banks beside

the Thames – I heard

the tug boat’s plaintiff

hoot and saw the roads

were caked in soot, and

glass lay broken underfoot.

Yet no coins hit the beggars

bowls – the old men as their

stomachs growled, with

care worn looks upon

their face had tried to

bear their fall from grace -

still no one turn...

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Such merit pours from

worthy quills like Blake,

or Betjeman – a thousand

more I could proclaim of

England’s literary sons

And daughter’s too from

other continental parts as

Greece, where Thalia, and

Her gifted brood held sway.

Yet in primeval times

mere grunts prevailed

and hands jab-pointed to

the forest trees with

berried fruits unpicked.

Before language...

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How many of us

will still be around

in twenty five years

time, to count those

fleeting times and

who among our peers

will give a Tinker's cuss

about our poetry like

John Dunne of yester

times who held us in his

thrall - upon the lectern

of St Pauls, wthin the city

walls. For he and those

sublimely rich will end up

in the common plague pits

of our day an...

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Drop in someone wrote

so I did just that – on-line

of course – no faffing about

getting buses into town or

anything arduous like that.

I chose my slot and down

the wire it went – me reaching

for my cuppa before I check out

any responses. Some you win

and some you don’t - quite an

unfathomable lot – just ask

Thalia who knows about the

cruisers of the random muse.


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Somewhere in the heavenly sky

there jitterbug the meteorites

just out of human sightedness

and jive the comets of the great

beyond that have us pondering

which piper calls melodic tunes

on journeys through the universe

towards the moon and back amid

the thunder cracks and craters up

above and claim the bliss of love as

earthlings know it can’t exist we’re

given to ...

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As Humpy Dumpty sat on a wall

- It isn’t that Humpty liked to

sit on a cold draughty old wall

which is the big issue here, it

revolves around the question

as to what caused him to topple

off when all the King’s Horses

and all of the Monarch’s men

couldn’t reassemble him again.

Methinks he could have been

on the Old Captain Morgan’s

hard stuff that was the problem


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There are two Worlds here,

let’s be clear on that – there

is the upper floor where we

scoot around on skates, with

scarf-wound necks, and noses

redder than before the snow,

which dunked our icier world

and had us blowing on our

hands trying to keep warm

when long forecast snow had

fallen on our whitened world.

Then there is the lower floor,

where pond life hiber...

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Of the old block type of chips

Wetherspoons’ fares rather well

and especially so on Friday’s

with a fine portioned piece  of

Golden Cod, some served with

mushy peas being the bees knees

to Northern types who chase it

down with ale and hunks of bread.

But of another type of Chips I go to

mines in Africa where various sorts

of chippings are swallowed whole


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In my hands an anthology

from Wey Poets, all have a

tale to tell, of life and their

own unique experiences in

a collection of words which is

descriptively entitled Pathways.

The group meets at the Quaker

Hall during gatherings at Guildford

 – and here fine words get bandied

about in various unique forms and

evolving nuances of ideas. One

of our...

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