This Is Who We Are

This is who you’ve always been,
The wind between the branches;
Bright blossom in the fields of spring;
The moon’s low light at night. 
The echo ‘tween the tall top trees
And the skyscrapers dancing. 
Within the silent sighs of the breathing sea
Your home is where you love. 
And this, this has always been the place,
Next to the lake and the mountain side;
By the sea and the forest free
Is where your heart resides. 
Love, love is just a way to be,
A beating heart in time;
And I, I have always been yours 
And you have always been mine. 
Phillip Mellor 2015

Roads Across The Sea

We stretch our arms out to reach the borders,

Over water and under sky we catch the breeze.
I place my heart lightly on your dreams,
To see if it melts, to see how it feels
For just one lifetime to love and be loved
Without hesitation, without resignation. 
If there was a road over the sea,
I would walk to you, my love,
Counting each step like a mantra,
Feeling the salty water beneath my soles.
And I know you would be there waiting,
My queen, my little raven wrapped in ebon robes.
Phillip Mellor 2015

Featured Artist at RAW:Seattle – April 2nd!

Aside from my own work, from time to time I will be sharing things that I love and that inspire me. I absolutely adore this amazing artists work! If you are in the Seattle area on the 2nd of April you might like to support the wonderful Heather Carr. She will be showcasing her work alongside other artists at the Raw event and I hear there will be food, drink and live music too… Follow the link in the article to purchase your entry ticket (only $15) but if you can’t make it and you love what you see, please consider a ticket purchase as this will support her entry into this wonderful event. I hear she is halfway to fulfilling her ticket allocation to cover her entry fee, so a ticket purchase would go such a long way to help her. Hope you can support her and make it to what is sure to be a fantastic evening of art. Thank you.




As a shy artist, I’ve got to be the worst promoter in the world, but I’m going to give it a go now… (deeeep breath…) OK! So…

I’ve been given a great opportunity to be part of an Artists Showcase that is taking place April 2, at the Fremont Foundry. It’s going to be quite a party, with bands, fashion designers and visual artists showing off their creations. RAW Artists was created several years ago to help emerging artists get exposure and I’m really excited that they sought me out to join their showcase.

If you would like to support my art (whether or not you can attend) you can purchase a ticket on my RAW artist page for $15. The only cost to me for the show is the agreement to sell 20 tickets by March 25th. I have to make up the difference for any I do not sell. I…

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springtime bird

there’s a bird singing in my garden
the notes of the new day sun,
an equinox of the love that rises
through our hearts as one. 
his song fills our senses to mingle
and merge with these parallel shifts.
a cornucopia of wonder waits
at the borders of our fingertips. 
there’s a bird singing in my garden
he sings his song only for you.
he has followed my arrangement so perfectly 
the colour he sings of is new. 
there’s a bird singing in my garden
with no idea what he’ll become. 
yet he knows that is heart has been captured
by the spring that has finally come. 
phillip mellor 2015 

Poetry (an Essay)

What is poetry? I got asked this the other day by someone who was curious about my writing and what made me choose to write poetry. The latter question is easy, I didn’t choose to, it just happened. It seemed to be the way that felt most natural for me to express what I needed to express. Just like what makes a painter paint or a singer sing; poetry was just my way into that deeper realm of expression. 
When you find your calling you know. It fits you like a perfectly tailored suit. It sits so well with you that you work at it for hours, days, weeks and years and it is never a burden to you. It’s a joy. But that first question, what is poetry? That is not as simple to answer.  
The following is the definition you will find on Wikipedia:
“Poetry is a form of literature that uses aesthetic and rhythmic qualities of language—such as phonaestheticssound symbolism, and metre—to evoke meanings in addition to, or in place of, the prosaic ostensible meaning.” 

It isn’t incorrect, I am not saying that, it’s merely incomplete. 
Poetry is ancient. Old as the breeze. It existed long before mankind came into being. Before we chose a word and a definition to please. Poetry is the way the universe expresses itself, how it interacts with itself. It is creation itself. Stars, planets, trees, birds, clouds, mountains, snowflakes, the list is endless. You, yourself are poetry. For without your awareness to perceive poetry, how could poetry be? All is poetry to the eyes and ears and most importantly, to the heart. For this is its true home, the deep wells of the heart. 
We are loving beings underneath the wars we rage; underneath the superficial skin we wear. We are all interwoven into this poetry of life. We all express it. All of us. Whether we define ourselves as poets or not. For we are the dancers of dance and the dreamers of dreams. We sing the songs of the stars both consciously and subconsciously. There are no divides between our notes, no divisions between our creeds. 
We build our poetry like palaces and we either destroy them in the end or we make them beautiful, building them up into a symphony; letting the Angels and the Devils find their middle grounds, to shake hands and sign their peace treaties. And should we choose the destructive path, we can even find poetry in the rubble and the ruins; in the bones and the broken hearts of lost loves, and shattered dreams. For even in the cracks of the pavement flowers grow. 
Yet we don’t have to be Tennyson, Wordsworth, Shakespeare, Heaney or Hughes to find our place in this rich tapestry of creation. We merely must be ourselves, brave enough to write our deepest thoughts and feelings, live with an open heart and love fearlessly. 
To me poetry is a way of life, not just writing in lines of rhyme and metre with symbolic images and metaphors. The writing of it sustains me, nurtures my soul. My hope in sharing this vision, is that it might sustain and nurture another, and in time nurture the whole. 
Poetry is all of the definitions you might read in Internet searches, but more, so much more. Merely in its very indefinable endless existence it creates itself. 
In times of happiness and in times of tragedy, we turn to it to explain our deepest emotions; why we are here and where we are going. But I believe poetry to be much more than just a cathartic thing. It is a spiritual expression of the soul, and when another feels the poem, connects with it, it reenforces the spirit itself. It perpetuates its very being. 
Poetry should be transformative. It should find those deep unspoken places within a person and turn them inside out; define the very essence of what it is to Be. You could say it is impossible to fully define poetry, yet it defines us. The best poetry does that. If I can write a handful of poems that achieve this, then I will have done my job well. 
Phillip Mellor 9th March 2015


your naked breath upon my skin,
    hands wound tight like galaxies spiralling. 
landscapes crumble into silent streams
    where whispers melt with echoes. 
    dreams in the ethereal sky star a still sea
and ripple the veil in front of my eyes. 
     forgive me if my mouth is speechless at this, 
but the sweep of your soul has me caught. 
there is no time to tell you all that i ought,
     so take this kiss from my heart as your own. 
and know that the ways we travel are vast
     and wherever you wander, you are never alone.
     even the night cannot keep us apart,
its vast mountains and seas are useless at this. 
      for i am the breeze, the sun and the stars,
always brushing lightly at your heart. 
i am the waves, the storm and the sea,
      the warmth that you feel in each coffee sip. 
i am your heart and i am your soul,
       even the wind, breathless at your lips. 
phillip mellor 2015


the carrion crow of my soul takes his nightly seat,
like clockwork, around midnight he claims his post.
dedicatedly he picks at the meat, as one dead eye fixes me.
a caw shrieks the stillness like a yellow streak of moon,
with this, the memories of you begin their feast. 
your hair falling like autumn leaves,
scattering colours on a painters palette.
upon the green lawn, your orange blossom song
like a dawn of lifetimes remembering the breeze. 
your breath upon my face and your heart beating. 
your eyes like emerald dreams. 
and the shadows merge with the light,
the clock ticks to-and-frow
and these tired lids lift the sun. 
i wake to find you gone,
with nothing left but the picked bones of love. 
no song, no dream, no you and no crow;
just this body, a scattered offering to the thunder god. 
© phillip mellor 2015

News Update: Hello, I have a boxful of rhymes 3/3/2015

Hi all,

Just a quick update for you about what is going on at the moment. For those of you who saw my post the other day might have guessed I am currently busy working on my new book called Poetrybox. It features poems written between 2012 to the end of 2014. It will be released over three volumes. As of this moment I don’t have any dates for the release of these collections but as soon as I do I will post them here.

For those of you unfamiliar with my work you can check out my brief bio in the About section, browse this site and find several recent offerings and in the Book section you will find a list of books I have independently released and links to the ones still in print.

This site is in its early days so there will be several updates happening in the coming weeks. Feel free to get in touch in the Contact section and please if you like what you read, please like, share with your friends, leave a comment, whatever comes naturally.

That’s all for now. Thank you for taking the time to visit and I wish you all a beautiful day.

Phil x