Philippa Lane Poems
- Purple Purple is afraid it scuttles into corners on all ...
- Blue Blue floats and hovers it never comes to rest its ...
- Yellow Yellow is the sun of childhood the certain day the ...
- Autumn Leaves we rake them into pyramid pyres, our ...
- Breakfast On A Psychiatric War... 'Does anyone know how to ...
- Drunk On A Train He staggered from the bistro and at a ...
- I Weep For You... I I weep for you, though no tears fall, ...
A war baby, Philippa Lane was born in Chichester, West Sussex, England on March 7,1941. Her only vivid memory of early childhood in South-East England is the sound of Nazi missiles (doodlebugs) cruising overhead en route for the threatened destruction of London. If one were shot down, as occasionally might happen, it could explode horribly close and destroy a part of her beloved countryside instead.
At the age of seven, Philippa was sentenced to a boarding school education. She went to Stone Court in Hastings, as cold as its name implies. She remembers her mother telling her that at her new school, the people who ran it were nuns, adding: “They’re different from you and ... more »
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Purple is afraid
it scuttles into corners
on all fours
and smells of old unopened rooms
it is the flickering eyelid
of an aging actress
and the veins
mapped on leaves
of frail plants
in nursing homes who suck thin air
Purple is chiffon dusk
compline and pale prayers
it is reading aloud
the twenty-third psalm
the noise of ragged breaths
clawing the air
a scratching away of calm
Purple is the gas
that killed Plath
and the depth
of her despair
it is the click of the valves
that stuck ...