William Oxley poet and writer

cover of NEW BOOK by artist Emma Carter

William's desk where many of the poems are written.

Torbay coastline -- source of much inspiration

William Oxley was born in Manchester but after a short spell in London has lived in Torbay for the past 32 years. A poet and philosopher, he has also worked as accountant, part-time gardener, and actor. His poems have been widely published throughout the world. Following the publication of a number of his works on the Continent in the ’eighties and ’nineties, he was dubbed ‘Britain’s first Europoet’. He has read his work on UK and European radio and is the only British poet to have read in Shangri-la, (Nepal). A former member of the General Council of the Poetry Society; in 1994 he founded the Long Poem Group, and co-edited its newsletter; and in 1999 his autobiography 'No Accounting for Paradise' came from Rockingham Press. He was Millennium Year poet-in-residence for Torbay in Devon. He is currently the consultant editor of 'Acumen Literary Journal', the south-west's leading poetry magazine. A fine limited edition of his 'Poems Antibes' was launched in December 2006 in France where he promoted the English Riviera with an exchange of gifts with the mayor. He has worked to promote poetry and literature within Torbay, encouraging Poets Torbay, POETSfriday, The Great Create and Blank Canvas. He was co-founder of the Torbay Poetry Festival and still works on the committee in many capacities. His next book of poetry is due to be launched on 13th May at THE TORBAY BOOKSHOP at 6.00 for 6.300pm. Please join us for a glass of wine, a few poems, the book with its stunning cover by artist EMMA CARTER and perhaps buy a copy and get it signed.

William won the ArtsBase award for literature 2008 awarded at the recent ArtsBase awards ceremony.

William wrote of Torbay:

PARADISE

To climb a rust-barred gate
From a meadow of pure green,
To enter an enchanting wood
Alone and unseen,
With low flaming bluebells
Smouldering in shadows
Of tall crusty trees –
Their rich dry smells –
To see shafts of gold sliding,
Green-edged through leaves –
­Sharp the summer bird’s calling
In knitted knotted branches –
And to follow a bracken path
To a cove of lighted waves –
This is paradise.