My Poem ‘Wordsmith’

When you are a child
the future seems like a far-away country,
as you grow up you become interested in many different things;
when you look around and everything and everybody
is telling you that you have to make a choice
about what you want to do,
and what you want to make of your life,
as your compass turns and becomes fixed on a particular direction
that even just the thought of always makes you happy,
and you cannot deny the flutter in your heart
and the surge of positivity in your mind that it brings,
you know that you have found the stepping stones,
the stride, the rhythm, and the trampoline
that you need to take you high.

It can be hard to find your way,
sometimes you have to try to truly know
if something feels right;
it can feel like a miracle
when you get an idea in your mind
about the epic possibilities that are so close you can touch them,
and those that never go away;
sometimes you need to imagine something before it can happen;
you have to mute the voice of non-believers around you
who tell you to stop dreaming-
because although there opinion may be cautionary,
the only opinion that is the most important
is that of your heart,
and that is one you should never fight.

Life-changing and amazing things happen to you
when you find your obsession, your passion,
your intuition, your reason,
fate comes to fruition
when you walk with a piece of magic inside you,
and your touch changes the life of someone else,
and gives a gift of wonder like that of a magician.

Looking, listening, thinking, believing,
seeing, making, inspiring, embracing,
accepting, changing, awaking, racing,
and before you know it
your life is noticeably and infinitely amazing,
and better and more phenomenal and special
than what you had always been imagining.

Time is the first gift
that we are all given at birth,
and it is up to us all to do with it what we will
before the lids of our eyes become too heavy for us to lift-
so, be incredible, be inspiring, be indispensable,
be as fast as lightning:
whether you are destined to be a manual-worker,
a clerk, a painter, a manager, a teacher,
or someone who has the power to change the world
and weave a tapestry of hope
that is bestowed to the most gifted of wordsmiths.

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My Poem ‘Coming Soon’

Sometimes you have to wait for things you really want;
sometimes you have to do all the hard work
and then sit back and be patient;
sometimes to see the fruits of your labour and passion
you have free yourself of any expectations,
so that what you put that effort into will truly count;
sometimes you have to leave things alone
and let things settle, dry, and be as they should,
like wet paint.

Everything needs time to cook;
everything needs time to come together naturally,
everything needs time to coagulate, be framed,
be bound tightly like the pages and cover of a book;
everything needs time to grow into what it is meant to be.

Different influences,
different sights,
different sounds,
different people,
different encounters,
make a piece of art,
make a creation,
make a life,
make a person,
and sometimes they can all be focused
into one perfect moment, or one perfect and amazing gift;
waiting for the right time can be all that is necessary
to pull together the dividing sides of a rift.

Having the will to hold on,
having the belief to not lose faith,
having the strength to carry on,
having the vision you rely on
to keep standing and keep going, can be hard
but when it all becomes real and tangible,
and you can actually hold what you have wanted in your hands,
everything that came before and all you had to do
to get where you are is eclipsed
and everything and you feel incredible, invincible, and great.

There is nothing worse than a ticking clock
that when you are waiting for the time to fly
moves slowly as if the seconds, minutes, and hours,
are not even moving at all;
there is nothing worse for the mind, the heart,
and the senses, than the time to think,
because sometimes you can think too much,
and you end up building and living behind a wall.

Counting down; seeing the next direction to take;
navigating without a map; making the choices
and embracing the mistakes that are not really mistakes
that you have to make,
are all a part of the adventure of a life-time
that is like Earth-bathing and Earth-gazing
a quarter of a million miles away on the surface of the moon.
The best of things are born into life slowly but surely,
meaningfully and poetically,
and we can all rest assured that phenomenal new adventures
are on the horizon, and are coming soon.

My Poem ‘Anti-gravity’

When you think about
all the innumerable things that happen in life,
especially in your own life,
that all stem from a single moment of creation
that is beyond the control of anyone who has ever lived;
when you think about what you have done,
what others have done, and why everyone did what they did,
it is not hard to wonder, and it is not surprising to think,
about what may happen in the future-
however, we all forget that the future consists, and is built on,
the choices and the decisions that we make now,
and a combination of what we know for sure,
as well as the chaotic and unpredictable confluence
of the things that we come across and effect us,
which make us go wow!

Gravity, and anti-gravity;
Earth, and outer-space;
Strength, and fragility;
Confusion, and happiness-
two opposing sides of a single coin
tossed in the air, waiting to fall
and land on one side or the other,
and sometimes, depending on which way the wind blows
at a certain time of the day
can change the course of an entire life
and can move you in a particular direction
and can drive you in a natural way-
like the way that music can engage and drive
the heart, the mind, the spirit,
and the body of a dancer.

Wherever you happen to be at a given moment,
at a particular time in our life,
can effect you a great deal;
a writer, for example, writes differently
and about different things depending on where they are-
in a loud cafe, in their sanctuary at home,
while they are sitting down eating a meal,
listening to music in complete silence,
alone, or surrounded by people-
life effects a writer and their writing,
in ways that are always inspiring.

When you come up with an idea;
when you fall in love with something, or someone-
the idea, the thing, the person, takes over you
and becomes the most important thing in your life,
they become your life, and they become all that you want and desire,
and can make you feel out of this world,
but like you are even more connected to the world-
they can make you feel the happiest of the happy,
and as if you are walking on the moon in anti-gravity.

My Poem ‘Matters’

What matters to you? And why?
Who matters to you?
What makes you feel the most?
Who always makes you cry?

If there were one book in the entire world
that could sum you up, which one would you choose?
Is there one film, one television show, one play,
that your passion and knowledge of says the most about you?

Is there a place that if it were not called what it is
it would have your name written all over it?
Is there a thing of your own making,
something that you had a part in creating,
that is a thing and a word to you
akin to that of magic?
Is there a place that you will always call your home?
Is there a face that will always be your idea
and example of perfection?

Is there someone who could never be cloned?
Is there something that you have seen
that you think a lot about and always stands or sits
within each and every reflection?

What matters to me is what I see,
what matters to me is what I feel,
what matters to me is a person, a look, a lock, a key,
what matters to me is a true secret that will never be revealed;
what matters to me is sharing every second of the human
and living experience,
what matters to me is a question, a road, an iris on and of
the infinite and complex cosmic and meaningful life
that we are all a part of,
what matters to me is what matters to everyone
who is able to use their senses and feel a presence,
what matters to me can’t ever be explained inside or around you
in the ground below or even circling the stars above.

Questioning is not a bad thing.
Answers are not everything.
The prize that is life is something that if you want the most of
you truly have to work for every thing in it
and you have to look up and down and around
while you concentrate on the steps that you take
and the rungs that you climb like those of a long and tall ladder.

Take every step as they come.
Embrace every thing that is unexpected.
Be glad for what you have got, not what you haven’t.
Make the most of everything,
be grateful for all that matters,
because in the end that is all that matters.

My Poem ‘The Art of Sharing’

A lot of people in this world do things because they have to,
so many people live a life having to do things-
jobs, commitments, obligations, promises-
that they might not want to do, but they have to do,
to live, to survive, to provide, to save,
so that they can eventually do all the things
that they have been dreaming about doing,
and perhaps no longer have to live the life of a lie.

Most people don’t ask for things these days, they expect them.
Most people don’t understand, haven’t been taught, or have forgotten,
that sometimes to get what you want you may have to give something
first before you get something back-
some people extend their hand involuntarily, always expecting
to shake the tree, and there always be something for them to catch.

If you can do something that you love
and give something at the same time to someone
that they may not and would not ask for,
but they need more than anything,
even if they don’t realize it themselves at the time
they are face to face with you-
that is the most amazing thing you can do in a day,
or in a life-time, because the art of giving
is also the art of sharing,
and the art of creating, making, shaping, translating,
raising, facing, saying, aiding,
at the right time, when someone really needs
what you have to offer freely is an alternative
that you don’t have to choose-
it is something you can just do.

Sharing what you have in abundance, to me, is natural,
and if you can possibly do something, anything,
for someone in need- why would you not want to give all that you can?

Begging is not asking,
asking is not begging.
Sometimes doing something in the moment because you can,
and without even thinking, can be the difference
between seeing someone on the ground looking up at you
and you keeping their heart afloat
and their hopes high and their spirits from sinking.
Giving and giving back without expectation-
that is the difference between asking and begging.

My Poem ‘The Escape’

There are times when you feel you have to get away;
there are times when you need to have a change of scenery;
there are times when the weight of reality
can feel too heavy;
there are times when there is only one thing
you can do, and one place you can go,
to bring you back down to Earth,
and which has always been and always will be
your sanctuary for reasons you could never
share or ever say.

For some people their escape can be a dream
that they imagine and remember;
for some people their escape can be somewhere
filled with people, music, intensity,
and outward displays of freedom and emotion;
for some people their escape can be a place
they have been coming back to ever since they were a kid,
and would go back to every day of the year-
from the 1st of January to the 31st of December;
for some people their escape can be somewhere quiet
that they go to by themselves when they are alone,
or somewhere they go to with someone else
who feels the same about the place as you do
and is the only other person in the world
who can understand why your heart beats so fast,
because they too have been spiked with the same love potion.

The escape can be you home.
The escape can be a holiday you have been waiting to go on.
The escape can be a song or an album that makes you feel
more hopeful and more amazing the more you replay it
and the more you listen.
The escape can be a person who knows you
and who loves everything about you,
just as much as you love everything about them.

Your escape can have a plan.
Your escape can be a point on a map.
Your escape can and should be something that makes you happy,
and not somewhere you want to escape to forever-
your escape shouldn’t ever feel like a trap.
Your escape can be a life-long journey,
or a mission to fulfill something primal, or instinctive,
and could see you jumping from an airplane,
jumping off a ravine, travelling over many bridges,
and through many tunnels, just so that when you reach the ground,
or you finally feel the light you have been chasing,
you achieved something you wanted,
and you did something you needed to do,
and your reason and your mantra the whole time was
‘I am doing this because I can.’

Choosing to escape is not a mistake.
Choosing to escape is a choice everyone has to make.
Choosing to escape can be slow at first
and then accelerate into the speed of a chase.
Choosing to escape can be the first thing
you think about when you look in the mirror
and you see you own face-
everyone has a place to go to for what they need
and for what always makes them feel better,
and for me right now this is my escape.

My Poem ‘Cards’

There is no greater thing to give,
and there is no greater thing to receive,
there is no greater expression
that you are thinking of someone, than a card-
especially this time of the year;
to me, there is something special,
more so than any gift or present of any size,
about the knowledge that people are in each other’s thoughts
no matter where they live, nor the reality that they don’t talk
or see each other as much as they used to anymore;
to me, knowing that I have picked and written in a card for someone,
and that someone has picked and written in a card especially for me,
means something to me, and because I am who I am
I read light-years into every word, and I pay especial focus and attention
to the ever-present poetry.

I love taking the time to make a card.
I love sitting down while thinking about the person I am writing to,
and letting my feelings and emotions flow from me
and become imbued in the ink that I am writing in.
I love having the gift to be able to express so easily
what others sometimes find hard.
I love retracing my own footprints
and reuniting with old memories of friends and family
at special moments of our shared lives together,
and remembering and reliving those things we have seen,
and returning to the place where we have been.

There is a card for every occasion.
There is a card for everyone.
There is a card to be made in everyone’s imagination.
There is a card to be created that can be a simple sentence
and sentiment that even though it may only be short
can be what you really want to say in a way
that is the culmination of elation, affection, explanation,
and liberation, that needs no translation.

Messages are precious. Time is finite.
What we say sometimes is fast, frenetic,
unforgettable, and often times in a rush.
How we spend our days and hours is often split and divided
between different relationships with very different people that we know,
and it is sometimes hard to know where you are
until you turn out the light at night.

To me, a card- a birthday card, a Christmas card,
a postcard, a get well card, an anniversary card-
is a great and a wonderful thing,
because it is an opportunity, a place, a way,
a method, and a means, that is more special and means more
than a text message, an email, or a phone call-
for some that is the only way they have to reach out
and make contact with someone,
and those messages and calls mean the world,
and being able to share something, anything,
from one person to another is so incredible.

The right card to send someone and the right thing to write inside
can take a lot of thought, but it shouldn’t have to be a science
and it doesn’t have to be a masterpiece of art.
The right message and remark does not have to be the most amazing
and poetic declaration ever written, or ever said-
as long as what you really want to communicate is there for anyone
and all to see and read by anybody who sends, receives,
opens, writes, and reads, something in a card.

My Poem ‘Lost Glove’

While walking in the woods near my house,
I came upon a lost glove-
it was just sitting there undisturbed and unmoved
on a bush at the foot of a tree;
a lone glove, which I couldn’t tell
if it was intended to be worn on the left hand or on the right;
a lone glove that for some reason had been parted from its pairing,
which lay as if it had fallen from above,
instantly intrigued me, made me smile, and made me wonder
what and who had brought it here to the middle of the forrest
only to leave it- something just didn’t seem right.

Every time I returned to my favourite place to walk,
to think, and to marvel at Mother Nature,
I always made a point to go to where I knew the multi-coloured
and multi-patterned glove continued to lie;
for weeks, months, maybe,
I returned and to my delight the glove remained where it always was-
it always brightened my day to see it, for some reason-
maybe it was the randomness of the sight of a lone glove, a lost glove,
far-away from the hand of anyone, that amused me,
and also inspired me in some way.

One day, I returned to the woods,
I took the same path that I always take-
I walked and I looked in anticipation of seeing the lost glove,
but it was nowhere to be seen-
I walked the same path again and again, over and over,
but all I saw in the place that I remembered it being
was just a multitude of growing green.
The first time I saw the glove,
I had thought that its sudden appearance
and consequent reappearances were a sign, an insight,
an easter-egg into the inner-workings of chaos,
nature, choice, subtlety, fun;
and when I realised that the glove was gone-
it had been picked up by someone else,
reclaimed by its former owner,
or it had been taken by an animal-
I felt genuinely sad;
but every time I walk passed where it was, even now,
I wonder where it came from.

The glove that was once lost was found by me.
I did not take it, I did not claim it,
but for a short-time it was a talisman to me,
a charm of life that I was always pleased to see,
a seed of joy, a flower of hope that grows in my imagination,
which I am in-awe of;
and that is why I will never forget the autumn days
of the lost glove.

My Poem ‘Sugar’

I have written poems that no one will ever read;
I have given gifts of wisdom to friends, to family,
to those people that I have met who were in the most need.
I have met people who are utterly convinced, without doubt,
that because they are not who and what they once aspired to be
nothing good is ever going to happen to them,
who are so obsessed with money, that they are blinded from seeing
from where the troubles of their life stem.
I have never been like that,
I have never bought into the notion that wealth is integral to happiness-
the more you have does not mean the happier you are going to be;
in fact, sometimes, the more you have, the more likely you are to feel stress.
‘More’ is the obsession that humanity has fallen into,
‘money’ is the drug that sweetens our tooth;
some people continue to do what they have always done,
afraid to look behind themselves at the shadow of the truth.
When you think you have nothing,
when you think you have lost everything and everyone,
you find yourself presented with a choice:
you can either worry about what comes next,
sit alone in a dark room day-after-day, asking yourself “why me?”;
or you can look at yourself, listen to yourself,
change the way the world knows you as being,
and you can start with something as simple
as changing the tone of your internal voice.
Because, if you are to succeed in anything,
the first person who needs to believe in you is yourself-
the words that your soul speaks to you
are important to every part of your health.
When you have to run though a fire
to get to a brighter, better, more brilliant period of your life
that will carry you forward to new challenges, it changes who you are;
but the delights that come as a result of the test of time,
make everything that happens to you taste sweeter than sugar.

My Poem ‘Olympic’

From light to flame;
from fire to torch;
from the child that dreams of the future
while staring up at the stars from their porch;
to the born competitor who wakes up every morning,
striving to do better than they did before,
who will be flying their flag on their chest
in the Olympic games, and with the eyes of the world
they will watch as a beacon of hope for all will soar.

The beacon will light the entire Earth when it is ignited,
and, for a short-time, everyone on Earth will,
in our own way, come together in our support for another-
who dreams of nothing greater than to see
the people of the world be united.

Expectations will leap;
heart-rates will jump;
the human machine will be witnessed, admired, and pushed to its peak;
emotions will be up and down like a roller-coaster-
and in triumph we will all feel the awesome ecstasy
that comes with every fist-pump.

We will all celebrate,
and we will all commiserate;
we will all live with heart and mind and belief,
united together like never before in something
that will reverberate, inspire, and inform,
the lives, the people, and the imagination,
and keep alight the fire of hope for everyone forever-
it is what has been carried in the hearts of many
since our ancestors first step,
it is what has driven every athlete, believer,
dreamer of a better world- whomever, whenever, wherever.

We can all do wonderful things;
what we have all achieved up until now is but the start;
how far we look to the horizon
is a measure of what the future will bring-
but what matters the most in life
is not what you get when you reach the finish-line,
it is what you achieve when you choose to take part.