A Scribe’s War

screen-shot-2017-02-21-at-11-42-42-amA Scribe’s War

by Philip Scott Wikel


handwritten manuscripts

wartorn pages

thoughts scratched down

added to the ages?


blood-bathed and heartfelt

recorded with wired veins

swords and guns and knives

moan of trials and pain


trenches dug

hopes of gaining

inches of ground

at least sustaining


wartorn manuscripts

handwritten pages

land mines laid

in literary cages


machine gun fire and mustard gas

truces never made

all is quiet on the western front

some dues can never be paid


Mauna Loa


Mauna Loa

by Philip Scott Wikel




oozing through vents to depths

no diver dares




heat so hot that touching

no midas tries



joined together by melting

stitching patches of

cooled and cracked


an island chain forming

rock and iron

and the greenest of life

worn smooth by water and time



air thick with love

and bound by aloha

Some Aloha: Between Sets

screen-shot-2017-02-08-at-4-59-41-pmbetween sets

by philip scott wikel

There was a long lull in the, until now, consistent sets of waves. After scanning the horizon again, I noticed Brent paddling up around me.

“What is it with people and rumors and tearing each other part,” I asked Brent.

“We’re surfing man, lighten up.”

“There’s nothing coming in right now.”

Brent sat up on his board and looked at the horizon.

“You ever hear that quote by Eleanor Roosevelt?”

“I don’t think so.”

“It goes something like… high-minded people like to talk about music and beauty, poetry and art, surfing… some people talk, and mostly complain about their work and stuff… and low-minded people have nothing to talk about other than other people, and usually not in a good way. They’re generally jealous types, vindictive, they’re sure they’re in the right because they’re the majority.”

“That’s gnarly.”

“Yeah it is, now just let it go and get some waves, there’s something big coming in on the outside.”