Guest Poet, Sue Lobo

Sue Lobo is the author of five books of her poetry & one of her childhood in the African bush, called “Lollipops of Dust,” her autobiography of a child´s view of living in colonial Africa, in the Kalahari desert, with all the magic of what the old Africa had to offer. She has also participated in ten poetry anthologies with other very talented poets & has won poetry competitions in Gibraltar & Spain. She is married to a Spaniard, with two grown sons & presently lives in Spain. Her book of poetry about death & dying called “The Last Dance” has been used to comfort the bereaved in hospices & also used at funerals. Her book of animal poetry called “Wild Whisperings” was written to generate funds for the International Save The Rhino Fund. Her latest work called “I Am Woman” is all about women & their struggles & plight in many countries of the world, but also reflecting on their joy & beauty in every age of womanhood.

LEST WE FORGET:

In the sadness of war, of only man´s sick making,

Leaving death, destruction & our sad earth quaking,

We now sadly remember, all those whom have died,

Every man from every nation, no matter what side.

 

But let´s not forget, the feathers, fins, hooves & the paws,

Innocent friends with no choices, we sent into our wars,

The silent creatures who fought for whatever the cause,

Not understanding man´s reasoning for fighting sad wars.

 

Dolphins, pigeons, brave equines & not forgetting the dogs,

Taken to far oceans, air, hot deserts & to muddy cold bogs,

These poor creatures who died, without knowing the game,

Let us pay homage to them & say “I´m so sorry,” in shame.

POETRY BY – SUE LOBO ©:   /|\   (PHOTOGRAPHY WITH PERMISSION GRANTED, BY THE VERY TALENTED – Lili Saatchi – Cemetery of staglieno and more)

SLOW DANCE ME:

My life on earth is near on done, so please,

Slow dance me through the corridors of time,

Through mists where the satin moths waltz,

Tiptoe me through forests where Druids gather,

Where I can hear the silent melody of the moon,

The echo of wistful whisperings of woeful witches,

Take my very old hand of life´s learnt wisdom, and

Lead me through silken webs of spiders long gone,

To the waterfalls where the coloured birds sing,

To where the eagle soars & the lion roars,

Slow dance me high to clouds above, where

Pegasus flies, & dragons wink their red hot love,

Sing me songs of days gone by & tell me pretty tales,

Let me smell those intoxicating perfumes, of

Jasmine & rose, & of scents I yet don’t know,

Slow dance me to the end of a life well lived, and

Let me hear the voice of god as I take my final bow,

Slow dance me please, for my time is done.

POETRY BY – SUE LOBO ©:   /|\   (PHOTOGRAPHY WITH PERMISSION GRANTED, BY THE VERY TALENTED – Lili Saatchi – Cemetery of staglieno and more)

 

  

MATRIARCHS:

Why did I not listen to them, so wise,
those matriarchs of my folk, my clan, my tribe?
When they foresaw & warned, I just laughed & scorned
at their words, & waltzed out the door, whilst,
they told of the reasons, the wherefores & the whys.

I hear their voices in the wind & the rain,
I see their faces in sun, stars & moon,
I now live their words of warning & scorn,
It´s too late now, but it´s a lesson well learned,
If only we could all start over again.

Their foreboding came true, every wise word,
they´ve long gone away, to other realms far afield,
Their words tormenting my every wrong deed,
too late now, & so sorry am I, that
I walked out the door leaving words unheard.

POETRY BY – SUE LOBO ©:   /|\   (PHOTOGRAPHY WITH PERMISSION GRANTED, BY THE VERY TALENTED – Lili Saatchi – Cemetery of staglieno and more)

 

SUMMER CHILD:

Latticed shadows echo upon sun dappled cheek,

Tiny black minnows nibble toes down by the creek,

Wending fluffed clouds are angels merely disguised,

Hankied white gulls pinned upon lapels of blue skies,

Rosy peached lips dripping juicy with childhood smiles,

Nut-skinned brown knees clambering over mossy stiles,

Laughter gaily heard through cool green forest glades,

As you go tripping through lilacs my pretty little maid,

Gritty little bare feet, dirty-earthy & so muddily free,

The wild beasts your friends & your mentors the trees,

Your tight little fists clutching joy & fields full of flowers,

Paddling in splashing brooks for many summer hours,

Breeze brushed hair as tussled as the errant soft fern,

And peeping through the brambles, Puck, Pan & Herne,

Ladybirds, dragonflies, butterflies & soft velveteen bees,

Join in your games of tickle, chase & the laughing tease,

Lemon scented lollipop melting on small eager tongue,

Herb perfumed fingers spin stones where bees once sung,

Skipping through red berry juice & plunging into streams,

Your joyful childish laughter echoes in summer day screams.

POETRY BY – SUE LOBO © /|\

Photo for the poem “Summer Child” (Photography shared from Xavier Lobo © – my son)

 

BOOKS:

Africa My Africa – poetry – (Now out of print)

Wild Whisperings – poetry – CTU Publishing Group & Amazon

The Last Dance – poetry – CTU Publishing Group & Amazon

I Am Woman – poetry – CTU Publishing Group & Amazon

Lollipops Of Dust – Autobiography – (Available from Woodfieldpublishing.co.uk & Amazon)

ANTHOLOGIES:

Available from CTU Publishing Group & Amazon

Love, A Four Letter Word, Divided Lines, Poetic Melodies, and Women of the World

Poets With Voices Strong – Autumn Poetry – published by Brian Wrixton & available from Blurb):

Awaken To A Dream –The International Library Of Poetry (out of print)

The Golden Seed – Slippery Jack Press, UK