BEAUTIFULLY SAD

I can still smell the coffee
Hear the creak
Of that rickety stool,
Feel the warm breeze
A kiss from the sea.
It's a beautifully sad reminder
Of heaven on earth,
For an old fool
Like me.
Once, I had visited Elysium
For all too brief
A moment in time,
Full of tastes and sights
And other wondrous delights
Beautifully sad
These thoughts of mine.
I kicked off
Constricting footwear
Churned sand between my toes,
Sipped on the rich
And heady brew,
And the pleasure of that
Beautifully sad day
For us still flows.
I sit now
In quiet contemplation
Indulging in the beautifully sad,
But, I'm thinking about
The future and what I'll have
Not what I once had.....
Phil Hall  January 2015

AUTUMN

"Icy shards spreading,
Hollowed cheeks dreading
The onset of autumn.
Weathered Nazca lines,
Upon the forehead of father time......."
See this face
Once cherubic,
Now
Rarely angelic
Misted with the chill
Of autumn.
Flying south
Watching with greying eyes
Falling leaf dies,
Waiting
For the coming
Of winter snow.
Early frost
Piercing aching limbs
Eyesight dims,
Tears
As the watery sunlight
Moistens leaden cloud.
Rainbow horizons
Springtimes fewer
Impaled on fates skewer,
Autumn
Dawning reality
Awaiting you and me.
Phil Hall  March 2015.

LISTENING

The Words float
Across the parallel,
Visions appear
Distant and shrouded
Memories,
Just photos of ghosts
And I sit
Listening.

Happy days
Passionate nights,
Bloody gladiators
On bloodied sand
Imprinted.
Just a pulse of thought
My eyes closed
Listening.

Time travelling
Toward topographic oceans,
Mystical and magical
Merlin casts his spell
Ethereal,
Drifting on Dozmary
An uncertain smile
Listening.

Brief moments
Personal escape,
The world disappears........
Then back to reality
Headphones off
No more listening
Hearing.

Phil Hall January 2015

LEVEL 5

Something lurks
On level 5,
Something sinister
And it's not
Alive.
There's an occasional
Temperature shift,
The breath mists cold
In the haunted
Lift.
Lights may flicker
And the doors quiver,
A feeling of dread
Makes one
Shiver.
Beyond level 1
And on toward 4,
Pulse quickens, cold and clammy
I reach the floor.
The light flashes
I feel an icy cold,
A grip of unnatural
Decay and mould.
Will I reach level 6
My final destination,
A sickening feeling
Burgeoning trepidation.
The lift stops suddenly
Alone in frosted gloom,
Have I travelled to hell?
And sealed my doom?
I'm held in a ghosts hand
For breath I strive,
I've met the phantom
Of the lift on level 5.
The House of Fraser
Birmingham's premier store,
Holds a ghostly secret
In the lift
On the fifth floor.

Phil Hall  December 2014

WHEN I WAS A LITTLE BOY

When I was a little boy
At this time of year
I'd look to the sky,
Getting excited
At the prospect of seeing
Reindeer flying by.
I thought children
All around the world
Had the same fun,
I never could imagine
Little ones murdered
By evil men with a gun.
When I was a little boy
We'd creep downstairs
To presents beneath the lights,
I didn't consider then
Other little children
Wouldn't enjoy such delights.
When I was a little boy
I was King Herod
In the school nativity play,
Dressing up in costumes
Singing Christmas carols
But, little children died that day.
When I was a little boy
I looked up to adults
For a sense of safety and reason,
Who'd ever believe
They'd murder in cold blood
Schoolchildren this festive season.

Phil Hall  December 2014

NON ANGLI SED ANGELI

Where am I from
With my cold blue eyes?
My piercing gaze
From ice cold skies.
Hair like wheat
Straight and fair,
Flecks of frost now
An Angle laid bare.
Purity of lineage
The mists of time span,
The bloodline congealed
For this Englishman.
Pope Gregory once said
"Non Angli sed Angeli"
I can't ever imagine
He was talking about me.
I'm no angel, I'm Angle
With Saxon deep within,
English blood surges
Inside muscle, under skin.
Trojan warriors sailed
To this wild, untamed place,
They named my island "Albion"
Land of giants, a savage race.
Sculptured and honed
Over centuries to be this way,
A giant and savage Englishman
That's who I am today.

Phil Hall  December 2014

LOST KIN

Though all born of one blood
The brood long since flown,
Scattered seeds to the wind
Far flung, a distance blown.
Parents, the fragile glue
The constant roof in rough weather,
Their very presence, beating hearts
Faintly keeping the union together.
Our footsteps tread different paths
To inevitable lifes end,
When words go unheard
And the past cannot ever mend.
The mists of memory
Like flaking parchment it fades,
The table is bare, nothing there
Skipping girls, flashing blades.
A distant, uncomfortable call
Paying lip service on the phone,
The fading photos now unseen
Ghosts shut away, all alone.
Cine reels, scratched celluloid
Laughing children, your lost kin,
Running in the garden, bathtub fun
We all still wash the same skin.
They say friends we keep forever
Maybe even a husband or wife,
But, kin are from the same mold
The same blood flows for life.
Empty promises always appear
When the bell tolls for one finally,
Shaking hands, hugs and kisses
Losing touch, lost kin, 'til no family.

Phil Hall December 2014