Master Po Known by his followers here at ‘WOL’ by his pen name ‘Po’. An abbreviation of Poemagraphic. Po lives in Gt Britain in North Norfolk. He has been writing poetry since the early eighties. Po has made a life study and practice of meditation, which he started after becoming only the fourth person in the UK to attain a black belt in the Korean martial art of Hap-Ki-Do. He is also a Forth Degree Reiki Master Practitioner. Po has studied parapsychology for over forty years going on to appear on BBC ‘Look East Live’ and having his own weekly radio phone in and talk show on ‘Future FM’. Plus, being a regularly contributor in the ‘Paranormal Norfolk’ magazine. Po is mediumistic. Seeing, hearing and sensing 'dead' people spirts and animals (a great source of both comfort and evidence to 'Life after Death') in the many realms of the spirit worlds. He has Conducting literally hundreds of private consultations and undertaken numerous ‘serious’ paranormal investigations throughout the South East of England over the last few decades. His experiences have been a great source of inspiration for much of his poetry. Is there such a thing as the muse? A question I asked Po. His answer was “From my own experience, the answer is a resounding Yes!” “I know that at times words just seem to float into my mind whilst writing a poem that does not originate from me. I have to look them up to see what they mean, and often how to spell them”. “When it comes to poetry” he went on to say… “The important thing is what is being said, not so much who is saying it!” Please feel free to contact Po either here, or at: email@example.com The sample ‘Cocooned’ below was the winning poem at the annual Reepham music festival.
Cocooned Finding new complexity in hand writing 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 when once I lay Po
All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.
Costa Lot (17/01/2019)
To late she cried (15/01/2019)
The Up Side (15/01/2019)
In a Flap (13/01/2019)
Out of his reach (12/01/2019)
Lost and Found Pt 2 (10/01/2019)
Lost and Found Pt 1 (Graphic content) (09/01/2019)
FREEZING TIME (08/01/2019)
The Ballard of Jack and Jill (06/01/2019)
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Tuesday 15 January 2019
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