Poetry Blog by Philipos

Seeing the family surname on a memorial

in Woking, I pause for thought - pondering

on the manner of his departure from life, and

towards finality of a seemingly endless and

costly campaign. There'd be no champagne

celebrating an end of this horrendous barrage

where glory was a myth - and kin or loved

ones, obliterated in the midst of all the gore

of an incessantly pounded m...

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Sygmoid

scoped

his path

throughout

the human

anatomy

moving from

top to tail -

being so

incredibly

intricate

it almost

blew him

skywards

but the stench

of vinegar was

all invasive at

the laboratory

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Like tiny jewels they lay

inside the artfully woven

nest – which itself had been

carefully chosen for this site

nestled between the forks –

how varied was the colouring:

the speckles, hues and blues

silent is the chattering now

that hatching had begun – until

the snatchers came ascending

scaly bark thinking it merely a

jolly old lark – momma bird is

ho...

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Spiders have eight legs and fangs

though usually they don’t trouble me

and we respect each other’s space

but when they grow much twiggier

legs – they’re begging to be taken

into custody – usually I imprison

one under a plastic cup sliding a

card under their wriggling forms

to detain them, juggling to open

the front door – chiding it quietly

not to  return or...

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Insofar as I am aware

Brahms and Listz were

terribly sober chappies,

so why have their names

been epitomised with a

sorry state of inebriation?

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Silent as the grave

the rail lines stand.

Missions

accomplished

for the

Fatherland

Rusting tracks

mementos of

detainees

designated

one way tickets

Disposable

Women’s

Shoes piled

storey high

and mouldering

Will mankind

ever learn? I

hear a musical

refrain echoing

upstairs in my

rondo brain

Dust gathering

o...

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It is perfectly correct for us to

remember all those who died

in our going down-of-the-sun

all the glinting metal work and

sorrowful faces on parade are

now conjoined with those who

went before in the nobler cause.

Time to reflect on all wars and

their futility to the wider clans -

Man’s inhumanity to other men

the battle to end all other wars

is but...

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It isn’t the ghost stories we hear about

that should be of concern to us – it is

those tales of which we are an integral

part – strange figures in the mists of

eventide - seemingly clad in shrouds

but which suddenly swerve elusively

startling the ‘skin crawl’ life out of us

blood racing through throbbing veins

like a foraging Satan, skittering in bins

scaring t...

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What do they seek the

bats, when scurrying

around in duskier air, is

it the sight of people

in a choir, at prayer,

or is it simply they just

enjoy being there in a

habitat rich in mood or

drowsy atmosphere. I

position myself by the

belfry at St Marys church

before chimes begin and

wonder quietly to myself

how many parishioners

have come confessin...

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Most people nowadays are

unable to recall those nuclear

tests around Australian coasts.

The damage to earth’s wealth

and marine specimens were far

too numerous to quantify with

legacies and peace time treaties

promised around discussion talks

Slowly marine life is beginning

to recover itself amongst the

nooks and crannies of under

water fantasia land, and...

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It was a legend from a spooky past

a manor house where party guests

had played their hide and seek – it

was in Hampshire – a place called

Bramshill House, where at parties

laughter and merriment were key

measures of success – the bride went

off, looking for a hidey hole, and on a

gloomier floor, she found an ideal spot.

So in shadowy spaces she: discovering a

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She was a pretty young thing

she asked me to get my kit off

just like that, and we hadn’t even

been properly introduced – alas

that’s the NHS for you – young

locums pressed for time, and

wanting to check one swollen

knee against  the other before

referring me for X-ray photos

and afterwards on to book an

appointment for steroid jabs

whacking me between cr...

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When the little sods get under your roof

trying to burrow below dermis with a prick

which has you howling with the pain of it,

it is time give a call to Steve-the-wasp

who cares not about the lamentations of

his job – he just gets on with it, shunning

formal ceremony and blasts away at the

task in hand – insecticide and no-how are

his stock in tools of trade – he ...

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.

Way back in 1892, it is said that

Edison received his patent for a

two way international telegraph,

thus circumnavigating the world

via technological advancement

like no other. It rocks my socks

in exciting ways to see how much

technology has advanced itself

via the ingenuity of humankind

endeavouring to wrap its tentacles

around the wider cosmos and way

...

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Somebody I know was

very much aglow getting

his demob suit at an army

clothing depot, not far from

St John’s. The list went on

a little, perhaps like this:

Trilby hat

A tie

Long Johns

Pinstripe suit

Sherlock Holmes Mac

Shirt

Socks

Shoes

A Sign Here signature

for the Quartermaster.

Of course it was many

years ago – and later on

th...

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What light

breaketh

from

yonder

window-ment?

Oh shurrup

youv'e been

on the Turps

don't trip over

a three leafed

clover at Murphy's

bar. And another

thing, stop singing

to the pigeons in

the early hours.

verily do they

pattern bomb

the roofs

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At the World Of Birds

they seek a skilful Beak.

One not seeking to feather

nests for personal gain but

looking to wider injustices

of being continuously confined

24/7 and deprived of liberty

without trial or lawful appeal

which could entitle them to

soar as Golden Eagles, utterly

unfettered by constraints.

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1. No place for sore nadgers
2. Cat on a hot tin spoof
3. Here kitty kitty
4. Down the hatch
5. Decorum is boring

6. Cor look at that ….
7. Who did what?
8. No hiding space
9. Jumping in Lakes
10. Forsaking all others

(Envelope opening)
Dramatic long pause:

And the winner is:

John Bercow for:
Order, Order !!!

Gasps all round

This must be a mistake

Gimme that gavel

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Recently began a sorry tale:

the man who thought he

was a dad, to three kids

born of herself when living

in his home and whom he

treated rightly as his own

It was after he seeing his

local GP he learned alas

he was infertile due to

a certain underlying

condition picked up in a

recent blood analysis for a

totally unconnected event

Naturally he ...

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There’s barely a rustle in

the leaves today – the sun

wears a fashionable smile,

what will a deep sweep mean

now that a newer normality

resumes – even though the

charade goes on – bus

drivers cowering behind

screens– watching boarders

with bated breath checking

to see if their gobs have a

covering on – waiting for

pings from ticket machines

sucking ...

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Don’t I know you from somewhere?

Yes, you with the shaggy chin, grinning

back at me. I’m certain I recall a newer

version of you when first I landed in this

universe. Wonderful qualities comprise

your various parts – you are the artwork

of the Gods. When self-reflecting on the

imagery – I think of Apollo, Hercules and

Zeus and our significantly different zones,

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During a long Novo lockdown

my scalp might have seemed

gooseberry-like, pruned back

as it was to the very dermis

of my upper storey – it might

not suit every one – especially

the girls – some say that hair is

a woman’s crowning glory – I

know this from my other half

who frowns if I offer to get the

clippers going on her Barnet

Fair - she pouts and tut tut...

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Now that I have left the main

stem – it is an illusory world

down there - twirling crazily as

I spin around again countless

times. If I could see through mist

it would be bliss but I can’t since

I am blind to outer sightedness.

I and my fellow kind are part of

a battle group seeking to make

inroads onto unknown terrains,

our harnesses are subtle to the

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Our dinghies are lowered

we scramble in – kit and

accoutrements loaded up.

We push away from our

landing craft towards the

French coast line – darkness

predominant – ‘Run silent is

the key’ they said during our

Commando training – there is

a poignant hush as we paddle

in wearing our camouflage and

faces blackened by boot polish

and soot – ears are tune...

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The after-shock remains

throughout later life and

you find yourself startled

more easily than others,

even younger brothers you

never got to know until after

the hostilities had ceased

It was what some people

called, a beastly time, but not

us, the scruffier urchin types

wearing hand-me-downs and

just pleased we could be clad,

and Mum and Dad, having t...

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There will be likes

there will be dislikes

there will be psychometric

assessment going on inside,

about who wrote a poem

that, lingers in the fertile

metric mind – some flowery

words disguise the litanies

of dislike – don’t be afraid

to aerate a creative urge

to be your truer self, but

if in the process of your

wanderings at length, you

spot a gem a...

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Mixed

thoughts

are harder

to eliminate:

First love

First kiss

A Pooch:

effluviant

at my side

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A short lecture on pathology

was, well coarse, if you’d like

to know – and mostly gory if

you listened to the chapter or

the verse after the incognito

van turned up,  as a stretcher

appears to carry something on

a gurney underneath the white

sheet into the London morgue

And then the lecturer would

go into one, about the human

form, as if it was quite norm...

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Who goes there,
lurking behind me
in a wisp of fog – it
is the one square
mile again, playing
a game of silly sods

Only the cart horses
are allowed to clip
clop along the murky
streets – this hour of
night – where wisps
float by in hazy light

which challenges the
sanity of the easily
spooked. No point in
making a song and
dance about it thinks
a rookie cop watching

new...

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We have heard that in East Africa

Maasai peoples leave their loved

ones, high in the trees upon demise,

letting the carrion birds act as their

recycling plants for departed souls

recently passed away, in the manner

of a simple acceptance of finality.

Ancient Egyptians were fare more

focused on embalming methods

whence King Tut of the time sat

resting sublim...

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I couldn’t tell you that,

how many functioning

parts the human body

holds – some seen and

others hidden away as

various as a new day

dawns in a variety of

miraculous moods. What

guides our inner beings

in such different ways?

Is it a lisp perhaps, saying

how we tick beneath our

skin – holding within the

the bountiful surprises as

are disguised in...

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It was a creepy old house

just like those seen in horror

movies – all seven of us had

sailed from Liverpool so Dad

could get a house for duty job.

We’d moved across the Mersey

Bar  and Irish Sea to get to it, 

what I remember most from my

post war memories was that

vision of Red Admiral butterflies

frozen in time and unable to figure

how to escape ag...

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Skin

being

the outer

covering

of all that

lies within

should be

treated

without

chagrin

and ought

never to be

soaked

in Gin, or

Gordon

could be

chasing

after you

tossing

his caber

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It is that time of the year
when road budgets get
used up. Side roads are up
as well, showing domestic
imagery of sewerage, and
those wishing to enter the

pub or favourite eateries
must walk the extra mile.
No smiles are seen just
anxious faces trying best
to cross Somme like roads

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Day in, day out, our airwaves are being tampered with

and faster than the speed of sound – go on line and be

bombarded by the effects – the curser on your screen,

your mobile phone all being bugged in whatever way

IT thugs consider it to be OK. Trump has twigged the

star wars game and who it is to blame – let us have a

joined-up fair discussion though, not merely rumour...

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He saw her lying there seductively –

it moved him as he said, ‘Are you

ready for love?’ In those words of

a well known piece of popular music

He had been watching through the

bedroom window at a world of nature –

agile blue tits and the droning bees,

‘In your dreams’ she said and he could

have sworn she might have added

something else, about an ode to

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What time is it?

At the next stroke, it

will be 4 am, precisely.

Oh shut your gob you.

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I am a snake

slithering along

banks of a canal

avoiding  cyclists

et al, I focus on nests

moorhens sit upon.

It is ticking time,

before the crunch

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I have an imaginary

slot to:

dive

dive

dive

deeply

into

ocean

depths

seconds

are being

timed, I

have 5 minutes

worth of them

what will my lights

and cameras collect?

What will my voice

project, about a

Neptune world

unfurling now

before my very

eyes – only the

skies take things

in their stride

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Ceylon Chinchilla Cornish

cute cuddly costly

clawing curtains constantly

carnivorous creatures conniving

cougars crouching craftily

caterwauls calling cat flaps

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Rub some on my chest, she

said, so Vic did exactly that,

and they spent all night talking

complete and absolute codswallop,

until Vic rose, when the cock crowed

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piers

promenades

people

perambulating

pointing

postcards

passing

poignant

passages

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Rooms cleared

merely at the sight

of him when at

reunions with his

former army chums

Such a dashing lot

too, he served with

many of them at Puna,

riding with the Dragoons

After he was demobbed

they offered him a job

at a bassoon factory

tuning in instruments

He never told a

soul about his

passion for eating

high fibre prunes

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Lambs suckle to the ewe -

frolic in the field, and Baa

if there is a need – we love

the pastoral scene, but cull

them if we can – us human

kind we, taking a knife, carry

out a Hari Kari, as least as far

as our conscience goes – but

lambs, cease perambulating

and bleating. Silence remains

except for the caw of rooks

with magisterial assemblage

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I wasn’t there at the docks

of Merseyside – it was Dad

decked out in fireman’s garb.

His mate perished under an

imploding wall - Dad stored

images in his mind and when

demons came he took it out

on us – although he never

cussed – just acted strange  - 

we kept profiles low until his

ghosts had flown, rearranging

his mind, foregoing fieriness

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Sometimes when it feels the world has gone to lunch,

leaving you to reconfigure things all by yourself – and you

can hear the ripple of a stream albeit in a different form

of realism - then the orchestra of starlings start to chirp

away – and you hear the twitter of a finch – and on rail

lines higher up the bank – a clanking train goes flashing

past – that is the time to sup...

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Who seeks the Moon

its vastness and it dust?

What lays beneath its

mysterious crust that

has us fascinated – don’t

you know, it’s gold, pure

gold that lingers there,

and he, the man who is

said to be on it, has gone

to prospect on the score

of carats strewn about

where shouting isn’t

heard, not yet at least,

as space craft hover in.

Per...

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Who invented the clock? There is a plethora

of valid views. The whirring cogs and springs

of yester times, reminds me of the challenges

undergone. Alarm clocks, and astronomical

variations, the must haves of their day. Often

holding sway, favouring bright, light minded

ones with futuristic thoughts and mostly they

were patronised by monarchs or nobility

of their t...

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