Welcome to poetry and verse from
Philip Ringrose
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Here you will find
a selection of verse – hopefully thought-provoking and humorous. You could call it a blog, but with words mulled over
and well chewed – a slow-word blog, a poet's log. The examples on this page look at the spheres of life – firstly about the dance of humanity
when viewed from outer space, then to reflections about the cosmic experiment the human race seems to be engaged with, and finishing
with a penguin's perspective. The
subsequent pages give further selections, with Earth from outer space giving the most recent blog. Please read on and browse at your leisure.
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Dancers, Trondheim 2019 |
The
dance from outer space
There are so many dances going on, simultaneously. Mesmerized, I lose track – which dance to follow?
The dance of the rich – the movements of power and money The dance of the poor – roll of the rat-race and rock of hunger The dance of the godly –songs of hope, chants and meditations The dance of equality – marching for rights to the drumbeat of dignity The dance of business – the tempo of the team determined to win The dance of the arts – the expressions of stillness and beauty The dance of music – for rhythm, for body and soul The dance of culture –
with a joyful celebrations of ‘us’ Watching all these dances, and listening to the amplifications; Is it all just
the noise of nationalism The clamour of two hundred nations Shouting at the silence of humanity? While just a few hundred
miles into space There is nothing – only stillness Up there, humanity is silent All we can see from outer space Is the shining stillness of human existence So,
who is the Lord of the dance? And who will lead it from outer space? Without gravity, there is no dance Without earth, there is no gravity But let’s use the floor
we’re given Let people enjoy their rhythms Let’s open the doors for the human race and go dancing without space. Inspired by Christy Ringrose's album
"Dancing without Space"
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Sunset with transit of Venus, 8th June 2004, Sydney (photo by Stuart Loh) |
White Sun White
Sun rises over
Pentland. Brightness
beams too near;
eyes shut. Grey dusk settles by Sullivan. Five knuckles are too few;
fists tighten. The thinness of this sphere is my company. The beauty of this land is prosperity. Go on you visible rotation, day and night, Earth on a star. Breathe
deep you sensible
mutation girl
and boy, beings
on a rock. Tch, tch, aye, t’is life for a while.
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Cosmic Experiment
I do not doubt the cosmos will accept the offerings of
humanity curling up through
the atmosphere as we combust ourselves in
the nested experiment of a global
holocaust; but will we choose to? I mean,
destroy ourselves by wanton idiocy, or perhaps we'll
learn to solve the riddle of human evolution and societal
development to find a sustainable way to self-organise
ourselves on this, the one and only, pale blue dot - Ge, Gaia, Earth - our home. The mythology of the Greeks, the tales of the ancients and religions we have built to help us understand ourselves are but a prelude
to a cosmic experiment in which the great ‘experimentalist in the sky' will test humanity: Will we consume ourselves by greed and stupidity? and open up Hell
for ourselves, or could we intelligently adapt to use collective knowledge and the edifice of science and technology to achieve: Not only a sustainable society with a Carbon balance but also the enjoyment of Athenian art and Dionysian drama the cacophony of cultures and the willing of the
wild - a garden of Eden, well
managed and in balance As it was in the beginning when the experiment began.
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"Earthrise" photographed
by Apollo 8 astronaut, William A. Anders, December 24, 1968.
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Misha
Misha I love you Andrey Kurkov was
a genius to create you you are my other humanity’s other Antarctica’s last call exotic
oil on parchment square root of minus one imaginary and yet essential to the real game of numbers
a refugee from nature’s reserve rapporteur on humanity's nature foolishness, madness and folly silent witness at the graveside yet in silence breathing life back into soul and psyche best friend man
can have a bird; watching, waiting for fresh fish, clean water blue ice and cool fresh air
Penguin Misha – we love you.
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A poem inspired by
"Death and the penguin" by Andrey Kurkov
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