Friday, March 29, 2013

ALWAYS FORTY


ALWAYS FORTY

 My Mom, to me she’ll always be forty.

A woman of true Black Country grit,
Of biggest heart and with sparkling wit.
With patience she put up with me,
As a child I could be naughty.
My Mom a saint or Queen could be,
To me she’ll always be forty.
***
For still having my Mom and Dad about,
 Thank you Lord, for your love throughout.
The toils, tragedies that all families see,
The tapestry woven by Mom for the leaves of our tree.
The pain a Mother hides so peace can reign free.
My Mom will always be forty.
***
The pleasure we’ve had over the years,
Mom always near to allay the fears.
Our Lord gave his life for us after pain and trial,
You gave us life Mom, with patience and ready smile.
Thank you Mom for being there for me,
A great Lady and Mother, who’ll always be forty.

Phil Hall March 2013






BARBADOS


BARBADOS

Barbados, My beautiful queen of the Caribbean Sea,
How your very name means so much to me.
From rum to the rotting chains, you've so much history,
“Little England” once shed tears from the Manchineel tree.
 ***
The gentle caress of the warm sea on pure white sand,
Welcomes you to this jewel, a glittering sun kissed island.
Where innocence and raw passion dance hand in hand,
And nature sways in motion to the sweet soca band.
  ***
“Keep everything just irie” this is the Bajan way,
Breathe in the fragrance of frangipani during a lazy day.
Then at night head off to Oistins so you can play,
Sample the seas harvest, whilst sipping on Mount Gay.
   ***
The people of this paradise island nation love to share,
From freshly laundered schoolchildren who always smile and stare,
 The sultry shop girls with shining tresses and an haughty air.
To domino slamming taxi drivers, all vocal for a fare.
  ***
 Cropover, the carnival where colours and costumes do shine,
Thumping beats and rhythm the excitement of the “Juk” and “wine”.
All the girls “Roll it” to the soca queen Alison Hinds,
Destination Spring Garden Highway, to jerk chicken so fine.
  ***
Even from Gun Hill heights, the sea’s within easy reach,
The stunning beauty of Bottom Bay, to vibrant Accra beach.
Where local’s lunch, and the vendors with fresh coconuts beseech,
Young lads playing beach cricket, so eager to teach.
***
Finally, the wonder of this gorgeous island I’m sure,
Will lead me to drink its coral filtered water so pure.
Scents of bougainvillea and hibiscus, people of pride, so demure,
From the rush and stress of England, Barbados is the cure.



Phil Hall     march 2012

Thursday, March 28, 2013

CHEVAUCHEE


CHEVAUCHEE


Many summers have past
Since the last Chevauchee,
Now it’s starting all over again
Here in my own country.

The bankers and energy companies
Are beginning to haunt,
Plundering their own people
So unlike John of Gaunt.

The elderly shiver in fear
When red letters appear on the mat,
Children without a hot meal
Whilst the bankers are getting fat.

No beds in our Hospitals
It’s all the nurses’ fault,
Death and destruction on our roads
For want of a pinch of salt.

So now the poor get poorer
What’s done to ease their plight?
An influx of pawnbrokers
And promoted gambling sites.

The Chevauchee was a fearful tool
Used to destroy a country.
But, that was hundreds of years ago,
Except now it’s against you and me.

We’re told it’s due to global warming
 Though I feel a great deal colder.
Why oil prices will stay sky high,
They need to please the shareholder.

The Chevauchee in the hundred year’s war,
Was employed to pillage, rape and plunder.
Now it’s the fat cats, who employ it
Whilst the rest of us go under.

Phil Hall  March 2013







Wednesday, March 27, 2013

WAR BOW


WAR BOW

Bowyers fashioned and carved the finest Yew,
From which the deadly bodkin flew.
French Knights in their thousands slew,
By English archers at Agincourt.

The heavy destriers tried to dash,
Across the mud, Henrys line to smash.
Into the storm with flying arrows of ash,
Sent by the English archers at Agincourt.

The war bow had won the day,
The common man now held sway.
A killing machine which made King Charles pay,
Destroyed by the English archers at Agincourt.

Hempen string woven for power,
In thousands could send a hail shower.
French men at arms could only cower,
Under the barrage from the English archers at Agincourt.

Henry V made his ‘Band of Brothers’,
Train at the ‘Butts’, gaining power like no other.
Accuracy which snatched a son from his mother,
The skilful English archer at Agincourt.

The war bow a symbol of the archers might,
The goose feathered darts an awesome sight.
Piercing armour clad warrior and mounted knight.
Slain by the English archer at Agincourt.

Today in churchyards, yews shadows are cast,
Bowyer and Archer are just names from the past.
The war bow its place in history will always last,
Made legend by the English archer at Agincourt.

“We few, we happy few
We band of brothers
He who sheds blood on the field
With me today,
Shall be my brother”
Henry V
Battle of Agincourt 1415.

Phil Hall  March 2103





"IN HONOUR i GAINED THEM"



“IN HONOUR I GAINED THEM”



Take a look one day into the London sky,
There’s a statue staring out with resolute eye.
Proudly stood atop a great pillar in Trafalgar Square,
That’s my Hero Lord Horatio Nelson standing there.
In life he may have been a petulant, slightly built man,
But he had the will of iron and tenacity to lead the van.
 Agamemnon the aged warrior, in which he shared the spoils,
Dashed headlong into conflict, with her billowing royals.
His favourite ship, a veteran with guns totalling sixty four,
Licked her wounds and went back for more
 Blasted sand and grit took his eye in Calvi, Corsica,

Avenged, when the Ca Ira was taken in the Battle of Genoa.
Losing an arm at Santa Cruz, a head wound at the Nile,
Hiding behind the uniform was never “Our Nels” style.
The Battle of Copenhagen, Hyde Parker issued a retreat cry,
Nelson took a telescope and placed it to his blind eye.
I really do not see the signal” so his squadron led the way,
Leading his brave men from the front, Nelson won the day.
When Horatio raised his flag on Victory, ‘Old Boney’ on land held might,
The Franco-Spanish fleet were amassed, spoiling for a fight.
This mighty force under Admiral Villeneuve, the odds were surely stacked,
On October 21st 1805 at 4am, Nelsons heavily outnumbered fleet attacked.
The most famous signal broke to the wind for every ‘Jack Tar’ to view.
England expects every man to do his duty” cheered heartily by the crew.
The Battle of Trafalgar, the day that Nelson defied all odds,
But he paid with his life, shot through from ‘Redoutables’ gods.
A hush fell over the bloody, torn and tattered scene from hell,
 Hardened pressed men and officers alike, prayed for the soul of ‘Nel’.
In honour I gained them, and in honour I’ll die with them”
Never in England’s history will we see his like again.
He flouted his private life, his reputation badly flawed,
But, to the common man, he was Godlike and rightly adored.
The burial at St Pauls was attended by the wealthy few,
Yet millions watched in tears outside, all wanting to be his crew.
The most poignant moment at the time that Nelson died,
Was Agamemnon all battered and scarred, sailed near to his side.
His favourite ship wept tears of blood, her cannon roared, belching fire,
The world’s biggest ship Santisima Trinidad surrendered to her ire.
Two hundred years plus have passed since Nelson passed away,
      In London, Birmingham and Bridgetown you can see him everyday.
God bless you always Lord Nelson, Admiral of the van,
The true hero of Albion, the greatest ever Englishman.

Phil Hall  March 2013

Tuesday, March 26, 2013

CUP CAKES


Cup cakes

IS IT A CUP OR IS IT A FAIRY?
JUST CHECK THE PRICES AND SEE HOW THEY VARY.
IN MY YOUTH FAIRIES HAD WINGS,
HELD ON WITH BUTTERCREAM ICING AND JELLY FRUIT THINGS.
THE CAKE WAS A SPONGE, LIKE VICTORIA OR MADEIRA,
WHEREAS A CUPCAKE WAS CHOCOLATE, IT COULDN’T BE CLEARER.

SOLD IN BOXES OF SIX IN WHITE PAPER CASES,
NOT JEWEL ENCRUSTED FANCIES, SOLD IN HARROD’S OF ALL PLACES.
THE THICK CHOCOLATE LID WAS SOLID AND FLAT,
NOW THESE OVERPRICED CONCOCTIONS HAVE CHANGED ALL THAT.
TV CHEFS HAVE TURNED THIS LITTLE CAKE INTO A WORK OF ART,
WE NOW HAVE DESIGNER TREATS, £4 FOR FOUR, THAT’S JUST A START.

THESE THINGS ARE INVADERS, RIDDING YEARS OF PURE SIMPLE TASTE,
TURNING OUR BELOVED CUPCAKE INTO A FAIRY IN GLITTERED PASTE.
FROM A TEATIME TREAT IN SCHOOL OR A PICNIC,
NOW IN BOHEMIAN THEMED COFFEE SHOPS AND SO VERY CHIC.
BUT, THEN THIS CAKE IS A RIP OFF AND OH SO VERY CONTRARY,
TO ME IT’S NOT A CUP CAKE, JUST AN OVERPRICED FAIRY.

PHIL HALL      JULY 2012 


Monday, March 25, 2013

TAX


TAX

I am a man; I am not a tree,
So why does this government urinate on me?
A tax on my wages, my beer and bread,
A tax in the restaurant and my hotel bed.
A tax on my holiday also when I fly,
A tax on prescriptions and even when I die.
A tax on my train ticket or the petrol in my car,
A tax on the strawberries in my jam jar.
A tax on sanitary towels, that is really bad,
If I was a woman I’d get truly mad!
Income tax has dropped (be happy) by a whole penny,
But, tax goes up on everything else.......
To leave you without any.


Phil Hall    May 2012

SEASONS


SEASONS

The world and all its seasons
Is truly an amazing thing.
We've had a nuclear winter
And even an Arab spring.
Music lost Donna Summer,
We can’t now hear her sing.
Or, Hayward’s forever autumn
With leaves in fall, falling.
**
We've a season to be cheerful
Let the church bells ring.
Women also have their own season,
With models parading new clothing.
Fish and chips get in on the action,
With salt and vinegar, our favourite seasoning.
We’re fast approaching hay fever season,
Oh, how my nose will sting.
**
We've football, fishing and cricket seasons
And a few that I've forgot.
But, there’s one that grouse would want us to forget,
It’s the one when they get shot.

Phil Hall    March  2013





Sunday, March 24, 2013

SNOW IN MARCH


SNOW IN MARCH


It’s snowing in March,
This isn't funny.
Lambs need to spring,
Where’s the Easter bunny?
The once festive glitter
Has lost its appeal.
It’s snowing in March,
This wasn't the deal.
We've blooms awaiting,
The bursting forth of life.
Birds, their ardour awakening,
Snow in March, what strife!!
Please hurry and leave,
We've a year to start.
This dismal, dark winter,
Stop dragging your feet and depart.
It’s snowing in March,
Whilst playing its frosty tune.
How I yearn for summer,
And the fragrant haze of June.

Phil Hall  March 2013



TEMPLAR


TEMPLAR
 
The holy knights of England’s yore
Are needed now, more than ever before.
To help the sick, the old, the poor,
Their Christ blades honed for evermore.
***
Gleaming links of mail, all blows to stem,
The bloodied banner of St George will rise again.
Sir Beauchamp and his retinue, we revere them,
This ailing Albion, our Jerusalem.
***
Our politicians think it a right,
To feather their nests, never contrite.
Their dark deeds done out of sight,
Please deny them oh ancient Templar Knight.
***
We’re in a land of us and them,
We’re facing a New Jerusalem.
Our sacred Isle, our Lords rare gem.
Knights of Templar... You must rise again.


Phil Hall  March 2013

Thursday, March 21, 2013

WHITE LIGHT


 WHITE LIGHT

When we look into the star filled sky,
Is this the place we go when we die?
When death takes away our life giving spark,
Does our energy rekindle as a light in the dark?


The sky may be Nirvana or the garden of Annwn*,
Where our life eternal in heaven can begin.
The final closing of eyes brings everlasting sleep,
The walk toward the white light, a corridor so deep.

One’s faith is the beacon, the bright torch of hope,
To their God people pray, left behind to cope.
It’s what’s inside that makes our life eternal,
Memories to cherish, with our body just a journal.

That burning spirit makes our life unique,
The white light shines toward peace at its peak.
Our loved ones start their journey of never ending sleep,
Until we join them, treasured memories we keep.


  • Annwn.... the otherworld of Celtic Britain. “Warriors feast and children play under the great apple tree of annwn” Arthurian legend depicts the legendary Avalon as such a place.

Phil Hall   July 2012.

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

FAITH

FAITH

Eyes may be the windows to the soul, but words (through poetry) are the pathway to the heart.
PH -2011

Find me, please find me,
When you do, show me where I am.
Hold me, please hold me,
Just hold me when you can.
Love me, please love me,
So I can shake off the pain.
But, love me for me please,
Never for your own gain.
Help me, please help me, I need to understand.
I pray each day for inner peace
And to know what God has planned.


Phil Hall    March 2013


Copyright Philthepoet@blogspot.com



Tuesday, March 19, 2013

THE WONDERFUL BITTERN


THE WONDERFUL BITTERN

 What a strange bird is the secretive Bittern,
It doesn't hog the limelight like a Swan or a Heron.
It stands in the reeds and its beady eyes glisten,
Spying small fish, a sharp dagger like beak to impale them.

With camouflaged plumage adorning this peculiar bird,
Apart from bellowing ‘Hoot’ it’s rarely heard.
Soaring Eagles and intelligent Owls, poet’s ardour is stirred,
So, maybe this tribute to the wonderful Bittern is the first.....
In word.


Phil Hall      August 2012

PENGUIN


PENGUIN

Lovebirds may be perfect to me and you,
Doves get all romantic when they bill and coo.
Flamingos dance together in their bright pink dresses,
Whilst the grebe offers his loved one a flick of his tresses.
Swans pronounce their love with heart shaped wings,
The nightingale proves his loyalty when from the treetop he sings.
But, the most romantic of all birds, here’s where I begin,
The waddling, butler attired and comical penguin.
The love they show each other as they pair for life,
He cares for the offspring and provides a gift for the wife.
By rolling a stone for her over ice, rock and snow,
For miles he treks with his burden, for his love to show.
They kiss with fish scales glistening as they rub beak to beak,
Their words a gurgling, clicking sound as they try to speak.
The little one, a grey ball of fluff peers out from between their feet,
This scene of Antarctic life is really quite sweet.

Phil Hall  March 2013