Philip Dodd Poems

The Round Table is broken,
to divide this green island, Britain.
Now I must obey the last words of Merlyn.
Take Excalibur, the sword of Arthur,
...

Four hundred years,
that is one hundred years less than half a thousand,
that is a long time to be absent from the stage,
a long time for your plays to go on and have no equal,
...

Worst is when you want to cry
when there is no reason.
It's just a summer passing by,
like any other season.
...

Panther black jungle night.
Monkeys screech,
parrots squawk in fright.
Muddy brown river,
...

I strayed into long ago,
somewhere in the east,
yes, the Orient.
Time moved slow,
...

Listen. Thunder clouds,
herds of black bison
stampede silent space.
Wait. Relief of rain.
...

She played her love in a minor key,
to say it was deep, not sad.
Her piano found her melody,
the best tune she ever had.
...

Faces of strangers life allows me to see,
but I know it is the same for so many.
It seems that is how it must be.
And I know I must not complain,
...

Ibis. He loved the word,
the bird even more.
Summer lay on the river,
he stood on the shore.
...

Still the dawn,
still the dew,
still the moments
dwindling down to few.
...