Miss Saigon is coming to Nottingham soon.Has anyone seen it in other parts of the uk? Opinions please. Phil

I have just watched Johnny Depp in the film Ed Wood. I thought that he was terrific. I loved the stupid grin and the shake of the head and wonder if I should go out and purchase an angora sweater for fun and comfort. Martin Landau was great as Bela L and the whole premise of someone becoming famous because they were bad film makers was hilarious.

Anybody seen J Depp in Willy Wonka yet? Any good?

Goodnight and don't let Vampira bite.

Ah, finished work now and using the work computer to blog. Tonight is the night of our summer ball and this year is an australian theme. We have free beer, great food and a Kylie impersonator. Tomorrow I will have a lie in.

:b

A short blog b4 bed methinks. A fun day at work today helping the new guys and learning much myself and tonight I enjoyed the Sherlock Holmes story on the box.

I was so pleased that a stranger called Isobel took the time to say good things about one of my poems. It does make a difference to know that someone is touched by your words.

Goodnight me and goodnight world outside.

Phil

Spent some time in my lunch break uploading some poems present and past. Language and theatre are two of my passions as well as photography. For anyone interested in seeing my photography see the link on this blog for my flickr site.

Phil

As the butterfly takes its wings
and in such fluidity sings.
And how that song a heart doth break
and in assention breath doth take.
Oh, and how the air, the air it shone
to feel that beauty, papillion.

Phil Lowe

Let you be kind and happy
And loving beyond measure

Let you be of dearest heart
Whose memories I’ll treasure

Let you be of warmth and light
And youth and sexy always

Let our laughter ring out loud
And fill our home and hallways.

Phil Lowe

I wish the letter would arrive
And say it’s done
I wish the second would arrive
And say here is renewal
I wish the future would arrive
And say here is love
Here is hope
Here is companionship
And we have arrived together
At the same time, forever.

Phil Lowe

I kissed thy cheek
And melted as the night
Doth melt into the day.
O’er thy soft flesh
My aching soul did brush
And fall into your spell.
And parting thus didst
Clamour for another chance
To taste the ecstasy of thy beauty.

Recognition.

I recognised that love
I recognised that soul
I recognised potential
To make the separate whole.

Phil Lowe

I wish to wish out want
To dream aloud the flying dream
I wish to cross the bridge of colours
To hold a day between my fingers
And all the love my wishing wants

Take Flight

Take Heart

Take meaning from the sounds
Of breathing and the clicking of tongues.

I wish to be the boy, the girl, the father,
The mother, the family pet;
I wish to be the scented air of India,
The lapping grey-green sea on a whale’s back;
The valiant gull on homeward wings.

Is Impossibility Possible?

Possibly.

Phil Lowe

Standing in the mossy fringe
of the amphitheatre of my youth

Now crumbled limestone seats
reduced to a shattered quarry

Shifting rocks lay smitten by
the erosive gods of time
Fallen, silent.

On this day the summer sun
once more illuminates the brackened
woodland space.

Through ash and oak the rays
bejewel damp and green cut beams

Glorious summer spiders scuttle in the
gossamers, hunch backed, prepared for all.

In one brilliant heart smiling moment
a chorus of jubilant spirits sweep back
the shimmering curtains of time!

Sparks of memory ignite.
The songs of joy and woodsmoke
Fill the veiled soul and senses.

In the far distance the constant
traffic roars its applause.

Phil Lowe

To pass the time I order too many wet Sunday afternoon olives.
Some tapping Catalan tongue calls from foreign shores;
Ensalata mixta, patatas bravas and honey coloured cerevesa.
Gaudi inspired flagons reflect deeply controlled rhythms.

Concentric ceramics baked in the Spanish sun compete with
copies of Matisse, Picasso, flamenco inspired dark wood,
mustard tiles and twisted whirlpools of black wrought iron.
Paper white bulbs of fresh garlic are strung from heaven.

Outside the cold winter snows swirl; flurries enter unbidden.
Flakes melt like waiters upon closing time.
From the restaurant heart a girlish laugh flings open its notes
And the dried flowers come to life and butterflies pour forth.

As I sip my barfly beer the butterflies circle slowly as fingers
in passion moving with the torrid currents until one by one
they form an undulating garland of reds, blues and sea green.
The door blows open and they disappear into the winter skies.

Phil Lowe

Frozen dendrite symmetry
Of lace-like precipitation,
Capped and spiked for admiration.
Collations of star burst clusters,
Mini galaxies forming ever outwards.
Ice blue crystals, complex and amazing.
Now, rapturous diamond geometrics;
Metamorphic ice fires; flaring unexpected
Blue, red, green, and chandelier yellow.
Undaunted ‘gainst natures turning;
Melting in the hand of innocent
Childhood wonderment; lost forever
With its crystal fellows in the folds
Of a snug winter overcoat.
One moment the universe in prism,
One moment Neptune’s ghost.

Phil Lowe

See those happy cowslips bold yellow against the sky-blue,
hugged close by blackberries waiting green for September picking.

Many a gathering are there of dock cured stinging nettle,
many a scotch crowned purple thistle.

As Morley lane rises dusty to the campsite
crickets crack hot in the goosey meadow.

The bluebells fairy caps nod among the heavy ferns.

A monstrous hare springs surprised across the open campsite
and into the all concealing gorse.

Phil Lowe

Lifted high on to shoulders
For a wan child’s winter visit;
Looking through breath
To a world of pale isolation.
Here, in a muted balaclava land
I’m reaching out to glass
Full of infinite crystalline beauty.
Lights, lights, moving out;
Colours forming wet
In the shape of my mother’s
Silent waving hand.

Phil Lowe

Every colour blue chopped with
sparkling bracelets of sunlight.
Foam constant on wind dashed rocks;
the manacles of Neptune’s deepest deep.
Gulls swirl of whitest white by buffets
dipped in shafts of light.

Phil Lowe

Two fine cats watched a third as she dug
The plants from the border that were meant
For a jug.
She scritched and she scratched all over the beds
‘til it flew up in flurries right over their heads.

Two fine cats all covered in soil
Swished hard with their tails at the other one’s toil.
As three fine cats ran off and away
They left all the garden in fine disarray!

Phil Lowe

A good photograph of a cat is a valuable thing.
A pose with a rose or him starting to sing.
Whatever his mood, it’s unlikely you’ll catch him.
For the click of the shutter is bound to dispatch him.

Phil Lowe

Oliver Slattery was a cat whose adventures
came to my ears whilst travelling on a
slow slow train to Birmingham.

One hairy old lady was telling of his life
and great cattish deeds.

He lives on a cattery does Oliver Slattery.
All who go to the cattery offer Oliver flattery.

He is the kind of cat who deserves attention
His name is perfect for his frequent domain.

As a kitten he lost half his tail and the vet
sewed it back on crooked. It gives a certain style.

On his regular visits to the video shop
he likes to play cat and mouse with the speeding
cars on the main road

He is presently on his sixth life.

He once was discovered asleep in the back of someone’s car boot
and narrowly missed a potentially thrilling journey to Mousehole.

Fulfilling his feline expectations as a curious creature
he enjoyed following two old dears to Tesco encouraged
by their talk of fresh fish from France and followed them home again
twitching his whiskers and crooked tail in anticipation.

Not disappointed he licked his fur with poisson perfume.

He is fond of smelling nice.

Ollie is not fond Jack Russell the snappy little ratter
But generally gets on fine with dogs and even slept
With one once.

Phil Lowe

Lucy the lion saw a fly the size of Venus.
It landed on a blade of grass
It buzzed around between us.
It sat and hummed a flyish song.
It hummed, it sung, it sang its song
Then Lucy zapped it with her tongue.
One moment there, twas in mid hum
And now resides in Lucy’s tum.

Phil Lowe.

Our LPs went to the Cats’ Protection sale,
As Compact Discs are here to stay.
Along with Ken Dodd’s Greatest Hits,
We sadly gave them all away.
Goodbye Gordon Giltrap,
UB40, 10.CC,
Queen live at Basingstoke,
Donny Osmond and Marie.
Eurovisions scratched to bits,
Some records that we hardly played,
Roncos by the car load went
With my little brothers’ stuff by Slade.
Abba, Abba, Abba, Abba.
Barbara Streisand went as well.
T.Rex and very early Bowie,
Meatloaf and his bat from hell.
We sent all these to meet new ears,
To nestle by the books and hats.
But the one LP we think they’ll love
Is the ‘Really Useful hits from Cats.’

Phil Lowe

Each moment of reflection, each connection with another person, each possibility of love, each second that time creates and the cause that time debates and all glimpses of heaven here on earth. I call this inspiration; a spark indefinable yet coursed with ultimate recognition in the passing of light to the controlled and the chaotic. All can be appreciated in the passing of thought and of love.

Phil Lowe

Tread softly in woods my child;
hear the damp grow and know
the soft pushings of magic;
the fungi towers of the dawn.

Phil Lowe

Les colombes de l'amour arrangent
sur ma barrière et dans leur amour
je cherche mon âme et mon âme
cherche le vol.

Philippe

Je me rappellerai ce,
ce feu interne.
Ceci visage reflété de sourire du mien.
Ces bonheur et période de joie.
Que j'embrasserai cet amour de la vie
Ce théâtre, cette réalité .ceci.

Philippe

Note from Phil: When I asked Monka if he would sanction a rhyming poem about him he refused outright saying "I am more of a jazz Monka like Thelonius Monka."

So here is Monka's Jazz poem. Enjoy. It is mercifully short.

Jazz Monka.

Ah'm in da trees yeah, feelin' da breeze yeah.
Da ba do ba da, da ba do ba da, da ba do ba doo yeah.
"Sweet"
Ba na na na na noo, "smokin'" banana noo!
Monka wonka wa wa ooh!
"Coooool".
"And here's frenchyphil on drum solo, hit dem skins frenchy!"
"Good night and thankyou!"

Monka

Monka the modest
I'm Monka the monkey
I'm fun and I'm funky
I live with my human friend Phil.
We each love sultanas
And fruit like bananas;
They give both our tummies a thrill.
I'm Monka. I'm happy.
A true cheeky chappy.
I represent all monkeykind.
I'm so photographic
I stop all the traffic
As I swing in the trees in my mind.

Written by Monka

This evening I am starting a new blog after a few failed starts. I want to combine some poetry and my thoughts and some pictures along the way.

Phil