Philippa Lane

Rookie (March 7th,1941 / Chichester, West Sussex, England)

Philippa Lane Poems

1. Felinity 11/18/2004
2. Blue 11/18/2004
3. Drunk On A Train 11/18/2004
4. Mandy (1970 - 1976) For Venetia 2/28/2005
5. Worlds 3/1/2005
6. Holmhurst 3/2/2005
7. The Call Of A Wood Pigeon 3/6/2005
8. Identities 3/13/2005
9. Riding 3/13/2005
10. Forgotten Date 3/23/2005
11. First Meeting With A Psychiatrist 3/16/2005
12. My Parents Sometimes Fight - For Tim 3/16/2005
13. Crying 3/16/2005
14. The Cally Bird 3/16/2005
15. Home-Coming 3/21/2005
16. Seducer 3/20/2005
17. Escape 3/23/2005
18. I Weep For You... 7/15/2005
19. My Heart Will Go On 6/4/2006
20. Hard To Understand 3/26/2005
21. Waiting 8/18/2008
22. Springs 2/28/2005
23. Lgh Four East 1968 3/18/2005
24. That Evening 3/20/2005
25. The Snowdrop 3/21/2005
26. What Is The You I Love 2/26/2005
27. Autumn Leaves 2/26/2005
28. Time Span 3/23/2005
29. The Bear 3/24/2005
30. Good Days 8/31/2006
31. Ashima's Calling 10/24/2008
32. Blizzard In St. John's 2/27/2006
33. Birthday Poem! 3/11/2012
34. She, Who Shall Be Nameless 4/25/2009
35. Breakfast On A Psychiatric Ward 2/27/2005
36. The Unimportance Of Being Me 3/21/2005
37. My Grampa 5/9/2007
38. Simplificatiion (Recovery From Cyclic Depression) 3/20/2005
39. Reflection 3/26/2005
40. Yellow 11/18/2004

Comments about Philippa Lane

  • Willa T Olivier (4/1/2005 6:12:00 PM)

    Philippa: About your poem 'Disappointment' - You are very skilled at expressing in
    words actual emotional experiences. Your poem evoked a hazy echo in my spirit of that dull thud. Bravo. Willa

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  • Peter A. Crowther (2/27/2005 12:48:00 AM)

    I have greatly enjoyed all of your poems. Lovely imagery.

Best Poem of Philippa Lane

Purple

Purple is afraid
it scuttles into corners
on all fours
it reeks
it shrieks
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 ...

Read the full of Purple

Drunk On A Train

He staggered
from the bistro
and at a glance
he looked for all the world
the usual sort of drunk
who guzzled down
a lot of bottled beer

But though his shirt

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