Author name: Philip Barton

Their smile was benign

And we shareholders laughed.

Till they got the mine

And we got the shaft.

 

© Copyright Philip Barton, 9th February 2019. All rights reserved.

I loyally follow my football team

In a calm well-reasoned way.

I’m not a chap to let off steam

Or to vulgar language stray.

Politeness is my choosing,

May the best team win.

Except that is when losing

Then my skin is rather thin.

 

© Copyright Philip Barton, May 16th, 2026, All rights reserved

I’m not the sort who sniggers,
At an editor who fails to be right.
Who loses the rhyme and rhythm,
And struggles to know how to write.

The world can seem harsh and mean,
So I’ll not call him a literary quack.
Oh no I’ll not point the finger,
Or be caustic behind his back.

The past is no place to dwell,
So we all must move up to the present.
He’ll find his way back,
So I’ll cut him some slack,
But next time I won’t be so pleasant.

© Copyright Philip Barton, July 18th 2026, All rights reserved

My beast of a wife,

Who’s the scourge of my life,

Made me go out for a walk.

Sulking and huffing,

And wheezing and puffing,

All the while making me talk.

Gasping for air,

We climbed up a mountain.

It’s name is now Hubris Hill.

For it was only my pride

From a well deep inside,

That ensured I’m not up there still.

 

© Copyright Philip Barton, July 25th, 2025.  All rights reserved

Old voices speaking in my head

From times in distant past.

Was it something really said

That took so long to last?

Inconsequential mumbling,

Or utterance profound?

Was it tummy rumbling,

Just a long digestive sound?

Could it be old memories

From lives lived long ago?

I’ll check my bowel movement,

Where everything’s on show.

 

©  Copyright Philip Barton, August 16th, 2025. All rights reserved

My lounge chair is a magic carpet,

Flying daily dreams,

To pancake land

With cash in hand

For caramel ice creams.

On my bottom, I repose,

While on my wings I flee,

To another place

With another face

And a grander other me.

 

© Copyright Philip Barton, 1st December 2018. All rights reserved.

Three ditties were produced

From just a bottle of wine.

Buy me one whole vineyard

And the future will be mine.

 

© Copyright Philip Barton 11th May, 2022. All rights reserved.

All are touched by genius,

None are purely fool.

The elections are

The selections of

The exceptions to this rule.

 

© Copyright Philip Barton 18th July 2018. All rights reserved.

I’ve now become invisible,

Assumed a Super Power.

Most can see straight through me

While the rest just sit and cower.

I’m not one for delusions,

Or fantasies and dreams.

My ears are set firm on the ground

And all is as it seems.

 

©  Copyright Philip Barton, July 13th, 2025. All rights reserved