"Where trumpets rang and men marched by, none passes but the dragonfly" - Mary Webb

Poetry

Poet's Praise

When you read a poem,
have you ever thought,
the little feelings that the poet sought?
The way in which he wrote his words,
the sad ones and the gay,
that was how he felt,
when he wrote it on that day.
He may have been in dreamland.
He may have been in life,
but on that precious paper,
he inscribed the scene which met his sight.
He may have spoke in anger,
or in a gentle way,
But as long as you have that paper,
that poet's still alive today.
© D.G. Phillips

T.V Western

We sit by the fire watching t.v at night,
and forget about the folks outside,
and join in the big gun fight,
then take our place on the stage coach ride.

The western here is yourself,
as he goes down to the draw,
then you look at the clock on the mantle shelf,
and the commercials are on once more.

Then back to the box your eyes all go,
as you see the villain die.
His comrades drop their red hot guns and so,
reach up towards the sky.
© D.G. Phillips