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Welcome to poetry and verse from Philip Ringrose


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.


Dancers, Trondheim 2019

The dance from outer space
There are so many dances going on,
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"


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,


t’is life

for a while.


Cosmic Experiment


                               I do not
               the cosmos
of humanity
         curling up
                 through the
 as we
in the
              of a
             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.





"Earthrise" photographed by Apollo 8 astronaut, William A. Anders, December 24, 1968.




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.



A poem inspired by "Death and the penguin" by Andrey Kurkov