Poetry – John Phillips – Party

Another poem from John Phillips book Shorts and Shots.


Come to the Christmas party, revel in festive glee;

There’s going to be a disco, everything s for free.

Let’s put aside our differences, together we will stand;

The Captains and the Corporals, and various other ranks.

Let’s put aside our differences, we hear the Captain s cry.

It’s all for one and one for all, we really ought to try.

Yet these are those who cause the rifts; behind their walls they hide,

Their meetings and computers, their fax machines and ties.

These are those who call the shots, These are those who try

To twist the screws for more and more, their aspirations fly.

These are those who suck us dry, who leave us, home to crawl,

Angry, depressed, exhausted and of little use at all.

But sadly its no one way street, we too must share the blame;

With our back-shots, bickering and constant selfish aims.

As each man sings his own, self-song, ours, a sad refrain,

With swaggering, ranting Corporals, each trying to make his name.

We, the men who do the work, we are the men who can;

In unity and truth we stand as tall as any man.

Yet debts and doubts and poverty; commitments and our fears,

Mean we’re just the ladder’s steps to Management careers.

So now it’s time to party, in  drunken revelry.

Congratulate each other, with corporate bonhomie.

Maybe a new beginning? Most likely we shall see,

That everything remains the same within our factory.

Poetry – John Phillips – Rolling Year

Another one of John’s poems from Shorts and Shots.

Rolling Year

The land awakens; Nature’s bright domain;

A vibrant, new creation, breaking free,

Whilst birds proclaim that Spring is here again.

As Summer sun brings forth lush greenery

In wood and hedgerow, gentle breezes play

Through fields of Barley, rippling like the sea.

September sunset, seals the Autumn day

With multi-colours. Flocks of geese arise

To head for southern seas without delay.

A galleon-moon sails the Winter skies.

Below, amid a frozen land, remain

Bare trees, which bend to Winter’s bitter sighs.

Poetry – John Phillips – Faces

Another poem from John Phillips book Shorts and Shots.


Round and round, up and down,

Round and round, up and down,

Climbing, climbing, ever climbing,

Tarmac waves, eternal like the sea.

Moor-land scrub and wild flowers,

Sheep and faces, always faces;

A bottle, cold; oasis in a burning land

And up, up; Climbing with the sweat and the cheers:

Go on Lad! Nearly there!

Faces like the Red Sea, parting.

Round and round and round and round;

Now with the land falling away,


Diving into the landscape;

Plunging, Hawk-like,

Twisting, turning, leaning-in:

Clip that apex. Hold that line

Faster, faster, sweat cold in the wind

Down and down, swooping, levelling,


Round and round, round and round;

Pick up the rhythm, settle down.

Riding a rippling, serpent, road;

Flowing past fields and faces,

Villages yellow and blue in the afternoon sun.

On and on;

Twenty to go, ten, now five;

Five to the final sea of faces,

To the final, frenzied, fling.

To rest.

Poetry – John Phillips – Seasons

Another from John – from his poetry book Shorts and Shots.


Spring is here today

Whiteness of Cherry blossom

Falling like the snow.

Gentle Springtime rain

Caressing the thirsty land

Bringing forth new life.

Morning Cuckoo song

Wakening the silent wood

Soundtrack to the Spring.

Blazing Summer sun

Bringing smiles of joy to all

Darkening the skin.

Breezes of Summer

Stirring the fields of Barley

Like a golden sea.

Clouds of purple hue

Darkening the Summer sky

Angry thunder roars.

September sunset

Closing down the Autumn day

Soon the leaves will fall.

Golden Autumn sun

The gathering of the crops

Before the rains come.

The birds are leaving

Flying off to southern seas

Winter on the way.

Icy Winter wind

Blowing from the northern skies

The bears are sleeping

Into the silence

Moving through the winter wood

Footprints in the snow.

Blackest Winter night

The land is full of darkness

Spring seems far away.