Calabria

A shepherd slumbers beneath an olive tree
whilst a crowd of bells
chime through an open gate.

The herder’s skin is baked as brown as clay.
An ant zigzags his furrowed face –
like a jazz note –
improvising.

The goats kid about in his empty hut –
one kicks a chair, tips a bowl
of lemons in the air.

The afternoon taps a somnolent beat.
The field’s a sheet of vermilion heat.
The goats feast, the old man sleeps.

 
Border Guard

All curling so close
to wire

I hear
a rainbow sigh.

Phil Wood works in a statistics office. He enjoys working with numbers and words. His poems can be found in various publications including: Dactyl, Autumn Sky Poetry and Ink Sweat and Tears.

Cardiff 2015

Last week’s hero hiding
within a sleeping bag,
huddling shadows beneath
the concrete columns
of civic hall.

Through the broken dream
a glint of transience
as if another IED
illuminates pointlessness
in the desert sky.

Last week’s hero wakes.
Sleeps. Wakes again.
The frost nibbles a quota
of toes and nose
with sniper precision.

Phil Wood works in a statistics office. He enjoys working with numbers and words. Published work can be found in various publications, most recently in: Sein und Werden, The Black Sheep Journal, Poet and Geek, the anthology Wherever You Roam.

Aung San Suu Kyi

The guards, pristine in uniform, perspire
with orders not to hear. All know
her voice seduces the clouds to rain.

‘It is fear that corrupts,’ she smiles

through her eyes and so I hear the blue
blush of waves breaking along the wall,
the guards running, laughing…waving
goodbye to the sea.

Phil Wood works in a statistics office. Enjoys working with numbers and words. Previously published work can be found in various online publications: The Centrifugal Eye, Message in a Bottle, Streetcake Magazine, London Grip, The Open Mouse, Sein und Werden, Ink Sweat and Tears, The Recusant.