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Richard Philip

Author, musician, journalist and maker of other beautiful flights
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Stuff that gets you through the night...

Sometimes a kind word or fitting wavelength is all you need to get up and go on. Herein lie sketches on worthy things that may reach you in some random way. I'll never know their effect on you. I only know, it is for you, that I write them.


Featured posts:

  • May 2018
    • May 22, 2018 Poem: Between skull and space May 22, 2018
  • March 2018
    • Mar 7, 2018 Poem: Fountain flowers Mar 7, 2018
  • February 2018
    • Feb 14, 2018 A poem: Dog Feb 14, 2018
    • Feb 6, 2018 A poem: Drills Feb 6, 2018
    • Feb 5, 2018 A poem: Trim Feb 5, 2018
  • January 2018
    • Jan 15, 2018 A poem: My brother Jan 15, 2018
  • August 2016
    • Aug 14, 2016 It is what it is Aug 14, 2016
    • Aug 12, 2016 Starting from the start Aug 12, 2016
    • Aug 11, 2016 I know my BFG Aug 11, 2016
Photo by: Alexandru Rotariu

Photo by: Alexandru Rotariu

A poem: Dog

February 14, 2018 in Poetry, Creative Writing, Creative Workshops

You saw it coming, made a painting, serotonin, before moody April. Inspiration sucked like a waterfall returning to its spring.

It saw me clinging, took a beating, left me feeling a wall behind skin.

The windy soul, highborn ghoul, has no hands to make me return. He howled at my back, I was nearly in the sack, a hooded soul drinking from a bowl of black nectar.

She painted the possibility of a lion in a dog, made a mark with her sword, and behold, the doggone days in the mane of the elemental beast.

 

 

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email: richardphilip@tutanota.com
 

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