poetry by Phil Benton

Words to catch the sun’s first ray,

Whispered prayers to mornings past;

Future’s chance to right the fates,

Of those that cry for days gone by.

Words to hoist the sail of day,

Joyful shouts to drown the din;

Present’s grasp on all unbroken,

Waiting for the tumbling fall.

Words to wind the sun to bed,

Anxious sighs to hide regret;

Leisure’s time is ever fleeting,

Out of view to them that blink.


About Phil

Hi, my name is Phil. I’ve managed to escape the corporate world, rid myself of excess belongings, travel the country extensively in my old Winnebago, and find a new home on a beautiful barrier island in the Gulf of Mexico. I define myself as: a free spirit, a writer, a philosophical anarchist, a poet; a lover of nature, a lover of art, a protector of animals, as well as a devoted friend and partner
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