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  1. Another day on the job

    At the end of the path, a broken door
    smashed shards of glass lay on the floor

    Cross the threshold, enter in

    another crime scene, let’s begin


    Walk the hall, climb the stairs

    the crime unfolds, hold back the tears

    ‘Must’ needs dispassion to fully comprehend

    precisely what transpired, at last days end?

    For at the setting of the sun
    what exactly here was done?

    Thrown discarded on the floor by the bed

    a blood-stained nightdress torn and red

    What the eiderdown shrouded, beggers belief.
    The depths evil can sink when it is unleashed.

    Po


  2. Parts of me


    A tiny tear forms in my eye

    As you laugh, it makes me cry

    What’s in the tears that now you see?

    Broken fragment’s, parts of me.

    The candle too sheds a waxy tear

    As you turn and leave me standing here.

    Po
  3. Ahead of the game

    Determined to stay ahead of the game

    One has to remember, there is no one to blame

    When things begin, to go horribly wrong

    Instilled in my head is that repetitive song


    “Always look on the bright side of life…

    de dum - de dum - de dum - de dum - de - dum”


    Then the next line encroaches…

    Life’s a bit of $h1t when you look at it Doh!

    Singalong now!

    Po
  4. Life could be likened to wandering a maze

    With each twist and turn there are new things to gaze

    Some are quite wonderful and fill you with awe

    Others you may wish, that you’d never saw


    Like the feeling we’ve come to another dead end

    But then when we look it’s simply a bend

    It may be, we have to retrace our last steps

    How many times must we do all these reps?


    Although moving backwards in retrograde style

    Staying where you are even for a while

    Is just not an option if you want to move on

    A conclusion soon reached, you could say it’s forgone


    As actually your progression continues each step

    You might not have realised its happening yet

    Maybe you missed the turning you need

    Or that feeling in your gut you just did not heed


    What ever the reason continue to roam

    Wherever you are, your not far from home

    As round the next corner a familiar sight

    Will end all your doubt and fill with delight


    High readings will lower

    As your blood glucose decreases

    And your life expectancy

    Most certainly increases


    Po

  5. Little lost ant can’t find his way home

    As over the carpet and floor tiles he roams

    Amnesia overcomes him from a bump on the head

    As a crumb falls from the table from a giant loaf of bread

    Po
  6. A lonesome tear

    Many a candle has shed a lonesome tear

    At the sound of a quill, on the parchment of despair

    Only being witnessed by introspective surmise

    Sealed within his cranium, the poets reprise

    Po
  7. The music box

    As I am reading I am watching this old music box, I have just gently lifted the lid
    The ballerina is turning, the music is playing, however the clockwork mechanism is loudly clanking and the ballerina is crying tears of blood.

    On the inside of the lid is a mirror that shows an entirely different image from the one you would expect. The ballerina steps off her pedestal and passes though the mirror into the unforgiving landscape of…. ‘The Bog’

    Could this be real? This alternative reality… This nightmare of such epic proportions
    Such as the like of which no human has ever seen before.

    Slamming the lid shut the ballerina bursts though the dark polished wood as the music builds to a crescendo she sings out of tune words from her desecrated tomb.
    The mechanism sounding now like an insidious drumming, as the drummer boy enters though my ear

    Three soldiers standing to attention, two flanking the ‘nut cracker’ wise
    Bayonets fixed at the ready, sharp and shiny so pointy the ballerina her body to precisely incise.

    Now the drumming is growing louder and louder cannon balls starting to fall. Craters appearing on the ground all around me, as the mists of time turn to smoke, slowly rising casting visions in my mind so repugnant, water seeping upwards, startling, gurgling, mixing with the blood and the mud and the flesh and the bones.

    Bodies strew, like five sticks engender a memory of childhood so dejectedly broken. Horses smashed to smatterings and smidgens, headless and legless empty saddles there lay, with paint slowly peeling like bark from a dead tree.

    My mind can’t stop reeling, regaling, in a cruel form of insidious joy.
    A church bell starts clanging, the echo resounding, bouncing back from the depths of Hades.

    A bowel so impacted, stomach so extended, distension and an insidious smell. Sulphur, fire and brimstone and other concoctions, stories only the bible can tell.

    The pits of hell surly opened with the lifting so gently of that lid of the box on my mums dressing table top... scREAMing loudly. Sounds once drowned out by the sounds of a battle, beginning to swell, bursting the drums inside my ears .
    Then as silence tumbles, descending I awake, pretending, "ReALLY I’VE got nothing to fear."

    Po
  8. It’s a numbers game

    Got out of bed jabbed my finger,
    no time lost, best not to linger
    Up flashed the number 5.4
    I’m glad it is not any more


    I’m happy with that It must be said.
    Jumping in the shower then making the bed
    Making my brekkie ‘Weatabix’ and butter
    I hate um soggy. Now to clear up the clutter

    Coffees made with oodles of cream
    Half a spoonful of Xylitol… It tastes a dream
    Computer on, post my morning BG levels
    Some are not happy, keeping it low is a devil


    Next thing I know, I’ve missed my lunch
    With my levels at 3.5 I must have a munch
    Where has the time gone? The forum is calling
    I’m feeling Ok, but my BG is falling


    I have had my lunch, A nice tuna bap
    Now I think I will have myself a nice little nap
    Two hours have passed, what’s my BG now?
    Did I have enough to eat, have I have enough chow?


    My levels up now 7.1 and I’m doing fine
    Now where is my mug? Its coffee time
    Next do the hovering, then dust the hall
    It’s time to think about dinner, before my levels fall


    Up and down constantly they change
    Sometimes there up then they crash down again
    What we all eat determines our goal
    Eating the wrong stuff makes us all look a fool


    Po
  9. COME ON!


    The chameleon ran vertically, straight up the wall

    and disappeared though a crack infinitesimally small

    “Did you just see that”! The post man exclaimed

    “Their the masters of disguise”, I quickly explained


    Running across, peering through the small crack

    The post man kept looking dropping his sack

    “Stand back and wait quietly, he’ll soon reappear”

    And then… as if by magic, the chameleon was there.


    I turned to the post man and to my great surprise

    Morphing, a giant chameleon looked me straight in the eyes

    “That is my boy” he proudly said,

    Placing him in his post bag, that turned in to a bed


    And with that I left, driving off in my van

    Waving good- bye, to what was the post man.

    Who then quickly changed to a red traffic light

    Which I screeched to halt at… try as I might


    I could not escape from his tight griped clutches

    My ‘Misses’ deathly quiet, that’s unlike the Duchess

    Then the traffic light changed, red amber,, green

    When a ‘HONK’ from behind, shattered my dream

    Po
  10. HYPO

    In that hypo’s long, sharp, silver, needle
    The fentanyl curse left me feeble

    With dragons coursing through my veins
    Oxygen depleted starving brain

    Just an empty husk, and to my shame
    Nought of me... Just death remains.



    Po
  11. H O P E


    Morning light came up on the shadows of souls

    Down lonely dark roads littered with toads

    That rained down from the sky, like a biblical plague

    To drown out the sorrows’ and errors they’d made


    And the rivers like blood, ran deep and dark

    As the righteousness stood by, and the mad dogs barked

    A fowl stench filled the air… it was one of pure dread

    Of countless men’s fears and the infinite dead


    And demons feasted on ethereal thoughts

    Of the terror and deeds those evil men wrought

    The wrongs of man now weighed in the balance

    The fulcrum is true as an Angel’s parlance


    The word of God now silent to man

    As no one spoke out, now there’s no one that can

    The message tis’ lost, all that’s left being hope

    Pray your grip be strong, on the forth horses rope


    Po
  12. Roll Of Honour


    A brave young trooper proudly stood... and would again if he only could

    Upon the hot and shifting sands, alongside his comrades as they manned

    Their post as proud a man could be; as all around could plainly see

    Alas not all looked on with pride, as a cowardly enemy there did’st hide

    Alas when this trooper’s time had come, his life its course was finally run

    Across the sands of time we mourned, another trooper’s day had dawned.

    As now amongst the ranks so proud, he swells the heavenly angelic crowd

    Of service men and women too, who stand erect so proud and true

    We salute each brave and gallant soul... Names etched eternally on our ‘Hero’s Roll’

    Po


    In memory of Lance Corporal Nigel ‘Moff’ Moffett 12/12/80 - 30/05/09


    Killed in action, Musa Qala, Helmand Province

    1st loss for the Light Dragoons in Afghanistan
  13. Master Po.

    So who am I?
    I am male, married,
    5ft 8in 10st 4lb

    Perfect BMI!

    I am known by my friends and followers by my pen name ‘Po’ an abbreviation of Poemagraphic.
    I live in the UK in North Norfolk. I have been writing poetry since the early eighties.

    I have made a life study and practice of meditation, which I began after becoming only the fourth person in the UK to attain a black belt in the Korean martial art of Hap-Ki-Do.
    I am also a Forth Degree Reiki Master Practitioner.

    I have studied parapsychology for over forty years, going on to appear on BBC ‘Look East Live’ and having in the past my own weekly radio phone in and talk show on ‘Future FM’. I was also a regularly contributor to the ‘Paranormal Norfolk’ magazine.

    I am both psychic and mediumistic. I have in the past conducted literally hundreds of private consultations and undertaken ‘serious’ paranormal investigations throughout East Anglia over the last few decades.

    My experiences have been a great source of inspiration for much of my poetry, which I enjoy with a passion

    I am currently working in Forensics

    The three words that best describe my personality are
    1 Outgoing
    2 Easy going
    3 Friendly

    My tastes in music are quite eclectic
    I enjoy Motown/Soul, Country, Folk.
    I love ‘Passenger’ The Beatles, Bob Dylan, Simon and Garfunkel, Elvis, Brad Paisley

    I also greatly enjoy caravanning and camping getting away whenever and wherever I can.

    I love cycling, photography, yoga, martial arts.

    So here it is my new found friends my bio and first Blog posting.

    Po
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