Paul Sayer. Known here at WOL by his pen name ‘Po’. Paul is very patriotic and holds deep religious convictions following his time spent questing for truth. He says... I write poetry to serve as skeletons awaiting the flesh and sinew of images. When poetry is not a document, it is a dream, it is here within my mind I find images. My hope is that the black and white negatives leave an ineffaceable multi-coloured image for you to peruse. Paul aka Po, on his Poetry. Paul lives in Gt Britain in North Norfolk. He has been writing poetry since the late seventies early eighties. Paul has made a life study and practice of meditation, which he began after becoming only the fourth person in the UK to attain a Black Belt in the ancient Korean martial art of Hap-Ki-Do. He is also a Forth Degree Reiki Master Practitioner. Paul has studied the esoteric, parapsychology and the occult for most of his adult life. He appeared on The BBC Look East Live Halloween Special and had a weekly radio phone-in and talk show on ‘Future FM’ and North Norfolk Radio. He along with his wife Pat were regular contributors to the ‘Paranormal Norfolk’ magazine. Paul has conducted hundreds of private consultations and undertaken countless ‘serious’ paranormal investigations, His experiences have been a great source of inspiration for much of his literature and poetry. Some of his poetry is realistic fiction, much of his poetry is based on real events that he has experienced. Most of Paul's working life has been of an extremely confidential nature. Hence his term 'realistic fiction'. He writes about real events in a way not betraying any secrets, trust or confidentiality. Latterly his literature has taken on a style of epistolary flavour. However, the reader never sees any of the texts or emails or the letters that inspired the poem or prose due to there sensitive nature. Reading his poetry here at WOL he says is best described as some of his 'Confessional writing.' It is often, he confesses, in his own words "Didacticism" Several of Pauls poems set out to expose social injustice. His following sample ‘Cocooned’ below was the winning poem in the annual Reepham music festival.
Cocooned Finding new complexity in handwriting dexterity Searching for lost artistry in the guise of poetry At times the images so surreal, in my mind a cotton reel Unravels till a tangled thread weaves a web around my bed Then ‘Itsy Bitsy’ comes to call. Arachnophobia cause me to fall Awaking with a nasty bump, in my throat a ticking lump. As I yawn, a black widow falls and bites my naked toe. Then scampers off somewhere to hide… No antidote to be applied What will now become of me, and my newly found complexity? At the proverbial ‘curling up of toes’, ‘Itsy Bitsy’ runs up my nose and proceeds to weave a silver thread, that leads me back into my bed A cobweb covered woven duvet, now shrouds a corpse where once I lay. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 11/11/19 11:00 Memorial The little white wooden church. The small white wooden church had not an empty seat. With an overflowing congregation, so many on their feet. Spilling out of the door, to pay their last respects. Far more than I had thought, and more than most expect. The service was quite poignant, a fitting tribute that’s for sure A lost and fallen comrade, this memorial was for. We bowed our heads in prayer, and silently we stood United in our grief, as a band of brothers surely would. After the service, I marched across the empty parade square Back towards MT, by a familiar sight, standing upright, there. A stark remnant of the Berlin Wall, perched like a sentry... Alone, standing tall. A small section that was removed, torn down, smashed in a fall. Ending endless suffering, tyranny, and scorn. Globally it seemed then, a time of peace was finally born. Whilst standing in its shadow, I sense an unseen presence drawing near That of a true and gallant hero, who many hold so dear. What was his death for, it seemed so futile, totally in vain Lost in a war, that truly was totally insane. Based on 'Blair’s dodgy dossier', fictitious, full of lies. The cause of many thousand deaths, the reason today we cried. Po https://www.writeoutloud.net/public/blogentry.php?blogentryid=96796 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ May 2020 The Mad Hatter's Tea Party I wonder if the Reaper likes a cup of tea He could join us at my tea party I’ll invite him along to see He could sample my tasty layer cake and my posh conserves maybe he’ll be nice to me And I'd give him his just deserts If I need a knife to cut my delicious carrot cake perhaps he’ll lend me his razor-sharp scythe I hope for heaven's sake as I wield a downward blow it slices off his head I'd make a tasty effigy of 'The Reaper' in gingerbread That would be quite funny Que the Queen's well-worn catchphrase... "Off with his head!" As we watched it rolling down the hill and headless, dead he lays. But who would then collect the souls at their end of days? Gosh! What a quandary that would surely be Who do you think might know... What was that? Vicar dear, Oh! Would you like more tea? Po.
All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.
Just Like That (30/11/2020)
Winter Solstice (29/11/2020)
sad but true (28/11/2020)
It’s Black and White. (27/11/2020)
Cloud seeding (26/11/2020)
Please HELP! (23/11/2020)
Justice Of The Peace (22/11/2020)
That Vacant Gaze (20/11/2020)
Wheres that poem? (19/11/2020)
Blog link: https://www.writeoutloud.net/blogs/paulsayer
The Smegroyd’s Moonlight Flit… A Norfolk Mardle* (18/11/2020)
Zee Count’s masquerade ball (29/10/2020)
The Music Box (27/10/2020)
Gire & Gimble (25/10/2020)
IED PTSD (29/08/2020)
The Endless Brawl (28/08/2020)
The descent into Hades’ and beyond! (27/12/2019)
Santa's Pride (20/12/2019)
A party fit for a Prince (06/12/2019)
|Wk 47||1 event|
Hover over an event to see the details. ( open mic event, Write Out Loud event)
Tuesday 17 November 2020
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