Although a Brit with a background in UK senior management, I began writing poetry at Kalk Bay near Cape Town back in the mid-90s where I appeared on local radio and TV programmes. Though mainly self taught I later ran my own group in the village of Horsell, with my work featuring regularly in local magazines and on radio. Willing to experiment with new ideas I mostly enjoy scenic moods having self-published 6 anthologies for charitable purposes. These days I meet at Guildford monthly with the Wey Poets where our joint venture anthologies are regularly published, and I also do open mike evenings with the Writeoutloud group meeting at Woking Lightbox. As a recent campaigner against unwelcome and uninvited Junk Mail (seemingly our postal services appear un-welcome-ly unique among the nations of the wider world in ignoring requests to desist), although I am astonished to find just how well received a decently constructed poem can sometimes be, when considering the impact wasted paper has on deforestation in the world at large - so a decently constructed piece of muse may open doors to higher spheres of office. Of course you have to tread quite carefully so as not to offend - but I guess poetry has that short, sharp, snappy way of wording a worthy cause. My other poetry submissions continue to be read in editions of The Woking News and Mail, which is a local paper published monthly and which serves a vibrant community of 41,000 homes, as well as numerous business premises attracted to a bustling Borough community with readily accessible rail links to London, airports and elsewhere.
(1)Blood Brothers. First an itch and then the irritation plus sleeplessness as I await the next raid of the Stuka Joy comes with a well judged swipe when I reduce my tormentor to a small patch of haemoglobin In an odd way we are now related but part of me also lies bludgeoned to the bedroom wall (2)Lakeside. Gantries encircled the lakeside hills where carriages empty tired urbanites wending their way home At the lake's edge shrubs send out fragrant aromas into twilight air At the station incongruous signs 'AK47s disallowed' (3)Ethnic Cap. The African boy aged 9 discarded by his family and the world at large He wears a hat several sizes too big his thin legs dangle on the low wall Yesterday he asked for tea and gulped it Tonight he will sleep again on the cold sand
All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.
RISKING A CROPPER (14/11/2019)
SLOTTING IT IN (12/11/2019)
I SEE NO SHIPS (11/11/2019)
SEA LEGS (05/11/2019)
SEA LEGS (05/11/2019)
WANDERING THOUGHTS (03/11/2019)
THE ALLERTON OAK (02/11/2019)
UNCOMPASSIONATE LEAVE (31/10/2019)
Blog link: https://www.writeoutloud.net/blogs/philipos
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