My Poem ‘Lux’

As red poppy petals fall through the air
against a perfect bright-blue sky;
life-long soldiers watch with tears in their eyes,
children look up in wonder-
the smiling faces of boys and girls are of pure joy,
while the haunted faces of the battle-scarred
can only look-on as they hear the sound of distant thunder.

A storm begins. The raindrops that fall are slow in their descent,
and when they hit the ground they are almost unnoticeable;
then, within seconds, the droplets multiply,
the clouds darken- turning day into night-
and the wind wails like a weeping angel.
The rain is like a curtain,
a screen showing the power of an untamable nature-
the spectacle is so incredible that people in offices at work,
and people looking out of a window at home,
have to open a door or a window,
because to them this is a ground-breaking, amazing,
summer show of a feature.
Lightning creates patterns of light and sound
against black clouds the colour of outer-space-
that make you feel like you are under the influence
and the control of something that can stop you in your tracks
and make your heart race.

Two different skies, not that far apart.
One sky, two different people from two different worlds,
but who are of the same world, and who have the same heart.

We live on a shared world,
we all live a shared life,
we share a history with one-another
even though we may never meet face-to-face,
and we all share the knowledge, the feeliing,
and the gift of being alive.

No matter how young or old you are,
no matter if you have been blessed your entire life with everything,
or whether you have lost your sight-
the thing within you that makes you who you are never goes away,
and can be felt in someones voice,
or seen in the twinkle in someones eyes,
if you listen for, and if you look for, the light.

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My Poem ‘Author Rise’

Some people go through their entire lives
still holding-on to a dream;
some just need to find the right person at the right time
to elevate them from wannabe philosopher and poet
into something and someone who makes a difference when they speak.

I never had lofty dreams while growing up-
not unless you count those daydreams of mine when I was a kid,
when I dreamed of what it would be like to be an astronaut;
I never thought that I could play a part in the world,
until I met the muse who would overcome all boundaries
and shatter all concepts of reality-
whose inspiration has always guided my path and given me support.

I never thought that my words would carry farther
than the eyes and the ears of someone near and dear,
until I was gifted a wish to be granted by a dream-maker
to echo the words of my life to the entire world-
as should be the purview of the poet of the sphere.

In my hands I am holding my life’s words
in a book with my face on the front-cover,
as if I were holding my own heart;
I cannot tell you how incredible and epic this moment is-
to me, it is as if I have painted a picture
and now that painting has come to life,
and I am now meeting the face for the first time
of my own work of art.

Holding my own book of poetry, my life, in my hands
and seeing my parents, my sister, cry tears of happiness at the sight;
hearing how proud my family and my friends are of me
is what I live for, and it is why I write.

“Poet of the Sphere” is but the start for me-
I have so much that I want to do, to experience, and so much that I want to say;
there will never be enough words in my vocabulary,
nor enough hours in a single day.

My Poem ‘Sunday Symphony’

All my life music has meant the world to me-
from birth, and forevermore, music of every voice, style, and tempo,
has seeded and grown in my mind like a tree.
All my life I have grown to love, cherish,
and make music a part of my daily routine-
music binds the days and the years,
and allows me to feel the memories of my life
and to understand there meaning.

My love of all music was gifted to me early on when I was a child-
my parents were the best: every night I would lie in my bed
and fall asleep to music and voices that made me dream and made me smile;
however, because I was so young, I didn’t understand the music’s beauty,
I didn’t understand it’s power-
I didn’t understand the images that my imagination created from the sound, that glowed, and grew, and awakened my creativity fire.

Every Sunday evening, my Mum and Dad would sit down with my sister and I,
and we would listen to my parents record collection:
gorgeously packaged black discs-
grooved and ingrained with some of the most incredible music of human creation;
songs about everything: love, heartbreak,
the past, the present, the potential of the future,
songs of dreams that are important to nurture.

My parents played songs that made me laugh,
and songs that made me cry:
one song in particular, Clannad’s beautiful ‘Theme from Harry’s Game’-
from the instant that I heard the first note,
and throughout the entire song,
my eyes would be like twin waterfalls;
but why I was crying, I knew not why-
even at such a young age, the profound beauty of the song
overwhelmed me, made me feel something, haunted me,
as it still does to this day-
the song that gets more and more beautiful to me with every play.

Over the years, my Dad would listen to Mike Oldfield,
The Beatles, John Lennon, and he would would say to me,
with tears in his eyes, that one day “you will listen to this on your own,
and you will love it as I do- because you and I are the same;
but, unfortunately, as I got older, all that I wanted to do was play video games.
Then, one Sunday, while my parents were out of the house for the night,
when I was about sixteen-years-old, alone in my room,
my Dads words spoke to me, and compelled me to fill the silence,
and give in to a truth that I could no longer fight.
So I went downstairs, opened my parents record cabinet,
took out and un-sleeved a vinyl LP called “Imaginations”,
I put the disc on the turntable, lowered the needle,
and then I stood in silence, in the darkness, with my eyes closed,
as the music that echoed from the speakers of the stereo
unified explanations, generations, and gave rise to revelations.
It all made sense, the universe made sense:
music, dreams, nature, words, voices, colours, began to condense-
I felt like life had come full-circle,
and that I now understood
everything;
however, this new enlightenment only made me ask new questions of life
that came to me like a flood.

As I have grown older, I have begun to realize more and more
that my connection and my love for beautiful music
has gifted me a great many of the treasures that I see everyday,
and for which I am unspeakably grateful for:
my friends, my music heroes, my favourite songs, musicians, singers-
like BT, and the beautiful Kirsty Hawkshaw.

I do not make music, but music is a part of me.
Music always will be what wakes me to invite in a new day;
music always will be the friend to assure me that everything will be ok.

My family are not musicians, but music is a part of us.
Music is what brings us together, music helps us dream,
music is what makes us feel free-
whenever I hear a piece of music, or a song,
that takes a hold of my heart and my mind,
so much so that I cannot express what it means to me in words,
I always think back to when I was a boy,
sitting down with my parents, in our home,
enjoying the wonder of a Sunday Symphony.

My Poem ‘Protective’

In the warm golden air of a summer night-
as birds tweet, chirp, and sing,
as the world seemingly stands still to catch its breath-
all that I can think about and daydream about
is the beautiful muse who has just walked into my life.
The second that I first saw her,
my eyes and heart felt as if they had instantly doubled in size;
the second that I first saw her,
my gaze was fixed on her wherever she went,
and my face could not disguise
that she had captured my heart
when she looked back at me with the sweetest of smiles-
one that you would wish to see for the rest of your life,
and for the sight of which you would overcome any trial.
I knew that she was special from the first time that we talked,
I can barely remember what we said to one another-
I know that she laughed at a joke that I made,
but if I am being honest my body never moved,
while my mind ran, jumped, and walked.
Every word that she spoke to me
I heard as if it were a beautiful symphony,
or a gorgeous, moving, verse of poetry
that had no end, nor any limit to its depth-
every movement of her perfectly formed mouth
was, is, like a sudden, invigorating, energizing,
inspiring, intake of breath.
She makes me feel so happy when I see her,
so much so that I cannot wait another second
until I raise my head again
as she greets me with her eyes as I greet hers with mine-
I am so looking forward to seeing her again
that I can feel a tingling all down my spine.
I am so awestruck, and infatuated with this angel of destiny
that I am excited about the future and what will be,
so much so that I do not fear the loss of judgement,
nor my sense of perspective;
because, even though we have only known each-other for a short time,
I feel closer to her than to anyone I have met before-
and maybe that is why I feel so much for her,
and why, towards her, I feel so protective.

“Poet of the Sphere” by Mark Hastings

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My Poem ‘Dark Characters’

We love something with a history,
we adore someone who has a story-
and, sometimes, the more checkered the history,
and the more complicated the story,
the more that they garner the most attention,
and stir the greater furore.

People talk about and remember the things and the people
that make them think and feel something-
it could be the cost of life of a massacre;
or the remembrance of happiness
brought about by the song of a bell ring.

No one is one colour,
but people who judge tend to see themselves as if they are-
its not their fault that they do- it is just who we are:
we can’t like or love everything and everyone-
if that were the case, we would all miss the detail and the nuances
of something or someones defining characteristic
that sets them apart from the other boats on the ocean-
if that were the case, then there would be no mysteries, secrets,
conversation, or fun.

We seldom encounter the same characters in life
as we do in the pages of a book-
most of the time the characters of life do and say things
that are far more noticeable and accentuated,
and upon reflection are far more glaringly obvious;
however, people are often blinded by light,
and do not give something or someone another look.

Two dimensional characters are just two dimensional characters:
they tell us their story and we believe them,
because their words are all that we have to go on;
but even after years of reading their quotations,
our image of them continues to live like it had never really changed-
a constant drawing of calm.

Multi-dimensional characters:
people of everyday life, who change more in one day than they know;
the same multi-dimensional characters that people adore
for not being a single white light,
but for being a spectrum of all colour
that brightens, changes, flickers, and stutters:
perhaps they are the reason that we seek complexity in our lives,
and in our stories-
that which is always at the heart of all the best dark characters.

My Poem ‘Transition’

Walking in the rain,
watching the world as it passes me by,
considering the questions of life that I can’t explain,
I think about the future, and why it is important to say goodbye.
For every raindrop that falls,
I consider the countless events that are occurring every second all around me,
what would the world sound like
if I could hear the beats of every heart-
would I feel like a lone swimmer in the middle of a vast sea.
For every step that I take,
I think about all of the decisions that I have made
that have led me to my path;
how fortunate I am to have had the set-backs, the obstacles,
and, most importantly, the blessings-
which are infinite in number,
and are as numerous as the total number of soap bubbles in a bubble-bath.

This is the season of change;
this is the season of transition;
this is the season of the wonderful and the strange;
this is the season when plans and dreams come into fruition.
New air is moving in of the same aroma
as that of a rainstorm after a week of hot summer days;
a new era has begun that promises the continuation,
and also the beginning of progress
that will affect people all over the world in many different ways.

People are moving on;
people are just being discovered;
people will not truly be missed until it is noticed that they are gone;
people are spreading their wings and leaving behind their feathers
to be found by others, like those of a mythical bird.
This is the season of choice;
this is the season when we are asked for our response,
so as to make a reality the potential of our ambition;
this is the season when people find their voice;
this is the season in which planets, and people,
make a transition.

My Poem ‘Kirsty’

Every time I hear your voice,
I close my eyes and I imagine the limitless sky of my mind,
I see the breathtaking hues of a beautiful sunset-
and shining above me the light of the moon watches and washes over me;
every time I listen to you sing,
I feel a peace come over me,
I feel as if my mind is racing a thousand miles an hour
as the Earth turns slowly;
I feel more, I see more, I believe more,
than anyone has ever thought they could before-
and it is because of you that is possible,
it is because of the gift of you that I adore.

When I first heard your phenomenal voice
I was physically and visibly enraptured-
the more that your voice entered into my soul,
inspired and gave growth to the seed of my internal voice and horizons-
I felt as if the hope of my dreams coming true had been reassured.

I believe that you were gifted to us all
so as to make a difference in peoples lives
that they will pass onto others
and will one day use to change the entire world for the better.
Every time someone feels inspired, or energized,
they will hear the faint beautiful sound of your voice,
and they will see your face like that of a spectre.

You have touched so many peoples heart,
and you have influenced so many peoples lives and minds-
and on behalf of everyone who loves you,
I would just like to say thank you for being you;
because every day you give something to the world
that has never been seen, or heard, before-
every new song is like your debut.

I would just like to wish you many congratulations, limitless love,
and my belief that your union will renew itself
and become more powerful and more special
for every day that you two share.
I hope you and your family
will go on forever, Kirsty,
because what connects you to the world is incredibly rare.

My ode to the beautiful Kirsty Hawkshaw on her Wedding Day

My Poem ‘Bond’

Meeting someone new is easy,
finding the one person to share and spend the rest of your life with is hard;
finding the peace to complete the puzzle of your life
is akin to finding sunken treasure on the bed of a turbulent sea;
meeting the person to whom you intend to marry is greater than destiny;
meeting your soul-mate is a fulfillment and a gift of the universe’ heart.

We feel so much for so many people in our lives,
but those bells of insight only chime for a short-time.
We say so much to so many people in brief interconnected moments,
but those words of meaning only truly speak
to a shared voice to our own that we knowingly seek.

Love is a trust that is not given lightly;
love is a faith that unifies all truth, thought, life, and identity.
Love is meant to be shared;
love is meant to be embraced, seen, shown, heard, felt, and followed
wherever its allure takes you-
to endless days of happiness,
to unforgettable nights gifted by a million stars,
to the meaning of life, fellowship-
where every moment is as indelible as a tattoo.

Making a commitment to the person who you love unquestionably,
who you adore, who you know as much about as you know about yourself,
is a treasure forever of limitless wealth;
making a vow to the person who completes you,
who you think about as an extension of your own spirit,
and who refracts the light of you like a diamond-
making such a promise is special, it is wonderful,
it is the most sacred, the most hopeful, the most beautiful,
and the most powerful of any bond.