phillip christopher
A Lone Duck
a lone duck
wack wack wacks
in motorboat surf,
calling us to
swim and fly,
quack at the sun.
…
On A Lake
a busy insect
flitting about the surface
of a sunlit pond,
unaware of the sun
but warmed by its rays.
…
Phillip Henry Christopher spent his childhood in Paris, France; Biloxi, Mississippi; and the Green Mountain State of Vermont before landing in Coatesville, Pennsylvania, where he grew in the smokestack shadows of blue collar America. Since then, he has been a news reporter, industrial mechanic, taxi driver, karate sensei, political activist, educator, reggae singer and mambo orchestra leader. He has published in The Caribbean Writer, Gargoyle, New York Quarterly, Blue Collar Review, and others. When not occupied with survival, Christopher can be found performing a sometimes joyous, sometimes disturbing blend of Cuban, Jamaican, African and American music with his psychedelic group, Mumbai Taxi, or as “Philadelphia Phil”, playing original acoustic Blues.
I always try to heed that quacky call; zoom in tight with the dragonfly. Two well-captured moments. Well done!
Ron. Lavalette
Barton VT
On A Lake is a nice tanka. The last two lines are particularly good.
I should like to read more of these little cameos.
Delightful poems.
Pamela
Philip, these were like aperitifs, perfect moments, captured in your mind’s eye. I don’t know what’s more impressive – your poetry or your bio! It’s wickedly fun, and I share that travel/musician/off the beaten track life, at least until the last few years… Great poetry! Amy Barlow Liberatore
http://sharplittlepencil.wordpress.com/2011/11/17/the-high-church-of-jazz-poets-united/