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Once upon a time
There was more than enough time
To pony up
To horse around
To leap frog

Once upon a time
You could chicken out
Or worm your way in
You could cook your goose
And eat it too

Once upon a time
You could cry wolf
Or clam up
You could count sheep
Or tell a whale of a tale

You could get the monkey
Off your back
Then live high on the hog

But time has outfoxed us all
Nowadays time is on the lamb
~
October 2025
HP Poet: Pagan Paul
Country: UK


Question 1: We warmly welcome you to the HP Spotlight, Paul. Please tell us about your background?

Pagan Paul: "I am from Bristol, England. I have always been a Free Spirit and never really settled into the society into which I was born. I am neuro-diverse. I am generally quite a shy and private person. I also write a little comedy and love listening to old comedy radio shows. I like cheese (especially vintage Chedder)."


Question 2: How long have you been writing poetry, and for how long have you been a member of Hello Poetry?

Pagan Paul: "I have been a member of HP since August 2016. I started writing poetry in around 2012, but not regularly. I think it was around 2015 I became more prolific and took it more seriously."


Question 3: What inspires you? (In other words, how does poetry happen for you).

Pagan Paul: "My inspiration comes from many sources. Nature, mental health, relationships, experiences, articles, books and my interests. But also from the mess that is my mind."


Question 4: What does poetry mean to you?

Pagan Paul: "What does poetry mean to me? Escape and expression for my creativity. Its a chance to write down things in a way that makes more sense to my neuro-diverse mind as well as to explore and experiment with ideas, concepts and imagination."


Question 5: Who are your favorite poets?

Pagan Paul: "I do not really read much in the way of classical poetry (Byron, Keats etc) but do tend to read some from ancient Greece and Rome like Callus, Praxilla, Virgil etc. I also tend towards the more abstract or psychedelic poetry of James Douglas Morrison. As mentioned I am a fan of comedy poetry by people like Spike Milligan, Henry Normal and Pam Ayers always raise a laugh."


Question 6: What other interests do you have?

Pagan Paul: "My main interest is music and the consumption thereof. I listen to a lot of different music from different genres. I have always regretted never learning an instrument or music theory. I also read a lot, especially with regard to the ancient world. The old myths and legends and folklore are also a source of inspiration for my poetry."


Carlo C. Gomez: “We would like to thank you Paul, we really appreciate you giving us the opportunity to get to know the person behind the poet! It is our pleasure to include you in this Spotlight series!”




Thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed coming to know Paul better. We most certainly did. It is our wish that these spotlights are helping everyone to further discover and appreciate their fellow poets. – Carlo C. Gomez

We will post Spotlight #33 in November!

~
Below are a few of Paul's most favorite poems and links to each one:

Moontouched:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1756684/moontouched/

Judderwitch 2 (Monsters):
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1923972/judderwitch-2-monsters/

Comfort Blanket:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2532170/comfort-blanket/

Night Train to Dawn:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3696368/night-train-to-dawn/

Pyramid Spell:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4839012/pyramid-spell/

Also the YouTube link below is for a video of Paul's poem 'For Hours of Time' (July 2023) set to music for solo violin and choir by American composer Sy Anderson.

https://youtu.be/mpGcrWHwb7g?si=5loGIGzfUcGVN7VN
.
Snow drifts down
     laying a lawn cold sheet
across the frozen ground,
          creating art reliefs
like acid etching glass,
open space rolling and undulating,
in small hills and depressions,
     bedecked in a veil of white.
The silence is deafening,
quiet having been enjoyed
     and surpassed,
briefly punctuated by the call of a bird,
     A sharp whistle that shrieks
and attacks the silence.
The fresh smell of snowfall wafts up
     as it settles and glistens
in the light of silver moonbeams,
randomly peeping through clouds.
The taste of peace,
                     tranquility,
in the frigid air,
sends imagination soaring
from the desolation of isolation
to another time and place.
          The snow falls,
     falls,
in a relentless race for the ground,
               all is still,
               nothing stirs,
as the moor welcomes its quilt
and sleeps with a cold heart,
     dreaming,
                       of being kissed by the Sun.



© Pagan Paul (28/05/18)
.
.
I am
Moontouched
a slight disaffection
from the real.

Yet,
in my lunar sea
a calm circulating
orbit wheels.

I am
Moontouched
an angle from
the hearts core.

Yet,
in my love fall
a slow spiral
loops playful.


© Pagan Paul (07/07/16)
Meanings: Moontouched 1) mentally ill, 2) in love.
PPx
Engineering to the Bridge:

"Time passed, but without us. A bit like Kepler's third, I suppose."

Express your "law" another way. Throw rocks at the moon. Stone the satellite because of your own despicable sins.

I see demise in your face. There's something strange about the through lines of your crew, the yellow journalism of their spacewalk.

Posters of the wild frontier, staggered and torn, said nothing will go wrong. That sometimes death is merely the devil changing colors.

"I think not, Captain. You laugh when you should cry. You tear to pieces the pictures of the overtaken. You run from the lie detectors. Otherwise, your narrative falls apart and all you're left with is your withered mind funneling down a ****** abyss..."
Punished by the sun
in a desert of our love.

Slipshod the sailing stones,
how dispassion speckles the playa floor,
salt pans dissolve motivating force.

I'm a man returning to his ground.
You're a woman seeking refuge
in the cracked crevices of my rib cage.

So far below sea level,
where does love go from here to survive?

Perhaps, Chloride City
and the grave of a James McKay?

Maybe at Bottle House in Rhyolite,
the "Queen City"?

Either way, this sensation has become an unsacred mirage:

the watering hole, a leadfield,
with which we can only look back from.

Praying the sulfur in the sky
passes on from this place,

before we turn into something sodium, something akin to
Lot's careless wife.
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