PHOENIX IN THE SKY

If I pray hard enough
Will you come back?
Without you the sun's gone
The skies have turned black.
The rivers have ceased flowing
All lakes have dried up,
The bread has gone stale
No wine in my cup.
The birds have ceased singing
No bees left to hum,
My heart has stopped beating
My mind has gone numb.

I miss you so much
Why did you have to die?
In life you were a butterfly
Now a phoenix in the sky.

I think of you always
I've still a tear in my eye,
I kiss the remaining picture of you
And that's when I cry.
The times we held hands
Walked by the sea on powdery sand,
And all of a sudden
The Lord made his demand.
He wanted a new Angel
To sit by his side,
And he called out to you
The almighty cannot be denied.

But, I miss you so much

WAR BOW

WAR BOW

Bowyers fashioned and carved
A warbow made of the finest yew,
From which a deadly arrow
The bodkin flew.
French Knights in finest armour
In their thousands slew,
By English archers at Agincourt.

The heavy destrier horses
Tried to dash,
Across the mud,
Henrys line to smash.
Into the storm
Flying arrows of ash,
Sent by the English archers at Agincourt.

The deadly war bow
Had won the day,
The common man
Now held sway.
A killing machine
What 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 famous ‘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”

From Henry V
By
William Shakespeare
Battle of Agincourt 1415.

Phil Hall  March 2103
Copyright:Philthepoet61.blogspot.com
Picture:Phil Hall Crapart 2017 (Dead of Knight)

THE LEGEND OF TOM BAWCOCK

MAGIC OF MOUSEHOLE: FISH PIE.

Kows orthiv yn Korniwek,
As Nyns yw unnyeth lowr.......
(Speak to me in Cornish, as one language is never enough.)

My futtocks suffer with Gwidgee gwees
And the doc he's fay Zam zoodled,
You see am are a tad Figgy hobbin
'Arter zackley teyr bras Oggy.
But the futtocks are true Girt licker
And it'll take time to be Ally cumpooster
The Didikoy doth declare,
I walk, it's said like a Chuggy pig
Or even an ancient, Narky Cannikeeper.
That's better it be than a Kewny Bulorn
A Padgypaw and warty Quilkin,
So I'll stagger my buffers to a Kiddlywink
And drink with gnarled Medhow'd duffers.
The Huer calls "Fumado!!!"
The boats scuttle out on the Oggin,
And the little ones are soon
Smiling up from the crust.

STARGAZY

" Merry place you may believe, tiz Mouzel 'pon Tom Bawcock's eve.
To be then who wouldn't wesh, to sup o' Sibm soorts o' fish
When morgy breath had cleared the path
Corned lances for a fry
And then us had a bit o' scad
And Starry- gazie pie
As aich we'd clunk, E's health we drunk
In bumpers bremmen high."

(Anon, from 17th century legend of a local fisherman, Tom Bawcock, who went fishing and brought back a huge haul of pilchards in terrible weather off the Cornish coast near the little village of Mousehole, pronounced Mouzel).

Phil Hall   October 2017
Copyright: Philthepoet61.blogspot.com
Picture: Crapart Phil Hall 2017

TENDER TOUCH

Oh for your tender touch
That silken wisp of pleasure,
The outpouring of life giving treasure
A parting of sweet tasting skin.
Oh the sound of short lived gasp
The adrenaline rush
The savage crimson gush
As sinew parts within.
Oh for the delicious conclusion
The severing of vertebral bone,
The crowds collective moan
Where eternity does begin.
Oh for that last tender touch
As the blade in flashing fall,
The throat fills with spittle and gall
And the head falls in the bin.

Phil Hall November 2017
Copyright: Philthepoet61.blogspot.com

NO SHIT SHERLOCK

Have you had a trip or fall?
Watching TV and you get a cold call,
These arseholes make me
Want to scream or bawl
No shit Sherlock!
The sun can do damage to your eye
Take out insurance for when you die,
Don't forget your passport
Whenever you fly....
No shit Sherlock!
Put on antiseptic for your cuts
Read the small print, no ifs or buts,
This walnut cream gateau
May contain nuts
No shit Sherlock!
Go to the loo, now wash your hands
Make you sit when you're in a stand,
Respect the local customs
When in a foreign land.....
No shit Sherlock!
Pointless signs within easy reach
Yards to the sand, it says "To the beach"
It's said that those who can't do
Try to teach....
No shit Sherlock!
Don't do that and you can't do this
Stupid regulations that take the piss,
Conformity with the norm
I'll give it a miss.
No shit Sherlock!
Health and safety, the nanny state
If I want I'll be a bull at a gate,
Can I for once live my life
And seal my own fate....
Shove it Sherlock.

Phil Hall August 2017
Copyright:Philthepoet61.blogspot.com

RESPECT TO ALL

It's time to show respect to all
These words need to be said,
I'll make tea for the next burgler
Who robs me when I'm in bed.
In fact I'll leave the keys under the mat
So he doesn't get himself hurt,
He might fall out of the window
So I'd dust off all the dirt.
We could let out all the murderers
Paedophiles and the terrorist,
Maybe even let off the car driver
Who kills when he is pissed.
Extend the hand of friendship
To a dictator who butcher's his own folk,
As he stock piles weapons to murder us
We should see it as a joke.
Give thanks and praise to all smokers
Especially during their pregnancy,
To the morbidly obese needing surgery
They've a right, just like you and me.
Let's hear it for the tax dodgers
And the fraudsters not insuring their cars,
To the lazy, talentless unemployable ones
Who just dream of being a star.
Respect to the girls who sleep with anyone
Who may be a film or football star,
Then sell their sordid story in the news
What delightful creatures they all are.
I love all the politicians and civil servants
Who feather their own nest,
Especially the ones who patronize us
I like them ones the best.
I'll hug a suicide bomber
And if he explodes.... who cares?
His obviously unknowing family
Will still get the benefits and welfare.
I'll worship with all the different faiths
And embrace their unique traits,
beheadings and genital mutilation
I'm sure I can relate.
From the priests with disturbing tendencies
To those who perform unnatural acts,
It's not worth the hassle complaining
Due to massaging of the facts.
So, I'll look around in contemplation
With the madness being unfurled,
Keep shtum when crap disturbs me
As we have to conform to a PC world.

Phil Hall September 2017
Copyright: Philthepoet61.blogspot.com
Picture: Phil Hall (Respect) Crapart 2017

TINPOT

Tinpot dictators and such nutjobs
They pop up occasionally,
Only to briefly cause a nuisance
Before being squashed finally.
Like the archetypal Bond villain
All boiler suit and oddly cut hair,
We've Kim Jung Un and his warheads
Firing them with a devil may care.
Maybe this tinpot is angry
As the West don't take him seriously,
Because his first name is a bit girly
And his chubby face resembles a piggy.
Most likely he's got a very small penis
And his first girlfriend had told him so,
But, to now threaten the world's a bit much
Just because he's got not much below.
His henchmen in their starched uniforms
All laugh nervously at his terrible jokes,
Though the rest of the world isn't laughing
As the fires of war he stokes.
He's full of rhetoric and bombast
His propaganda we've all heard before,
Many a tyrant has spouted such crap
Before being shown life's exit door.
To become an infamous, despotic tinpot
Be a bit more villainous and have style,
Because at the moment you just look like a bit of a twat
And your teenage petulance sticks out a mile.
So Kim, please go and tidy your room
Also finish your mathematics homework,
Stop annoying your betters with tantrums
And behaving like a childish berk.

Phil Hall
September 2017
Copyright:Philthepoet61.blogspot.com
Drawing: Phil Hall (Tinpot) Crap art 2017.