You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘Colour’ tag.
When the morning light hit my face,
and I slowly began to open my eyes;
when I got out of bed,
and I looked in the mirror,
I immediately flashed back to the night before,
and the face I saw and the memory of the look in my eye
that I cannot erase-
the one that said, and always says to me: embrace life,
and let the constant adventure that you are on
take you far and take you high.
At the end of the day,
when the sun has set and it is officially night,
people change like the colour of the sky changes
from blue to black-
the choices you make, the things you do,
what you intake, what you say and listen to,
are different than at any other time of the day,
and people can act like a completely different person
when they can let their hair down,
and drop their guard,
and let their intoxicated instincts guide them
to varying expressions of their own colourful inner-light.
Some people don’t remember hardly anything
after a long night that turns into a morning of crawling;
some people can drink a lot and remember everything;
some people when they drink cannot stop talking;
some people when they are inebriated dance, laugh,
take off their clothes,
sometimes they wrap their arms around everyone,
and when they hear a great song being played
they let their voice be heard loud
and they sing like The King.
A night on the town;
an experience of visiting and going
to many different venues, places, clubs, and bars;
a night of laughs, music,
and pictures of friends enjoying themselves
and acting like clowns,
are great to remember and remind yourself of,
as long as at the end of the night
you don’t end up somewhere where you didn’t really want to be-
like in the back of a police car.
All good things must come to an end,
and so must a long, but great, and fun night;
flashes of what happened and what was said
rise to the surface of your consciousness
and can fill you with both regret and relief;
every night is short, every night is different, every night is brief-
however, every night counts,
and as the sun rises and the dark becomes the light and bright,
just remember that somewhere, at all times of the day on Earth,
and constantly in space, we, like the world we live on,
are constantly turning, spinning, and existing,
in a perpetual night.
The rain-soaked pavement shines and reflects like a mirror;
the infinite water-drops fall slowly without a sound;
the sky looks as if it is one giant grey cloud;
the wind blowing makes the trees shiver;
the people walking around are as wet as the ground;
people keep moving, the Earth keeps spinning,
life keeps growing and revitalizing-
as does everything,
and I see the evidence everywhere I look around this town.
Things start off slow at first
and then get faster and more intense with every passing moment;
the best of things take time to build;
answers to questions sometimes feel like they are coming from far-away,
like a reply to a letter that you sent;
there are lots of things to treasure and love
about living in the blessed places of this beautiful world.
The city looks like a photograph I once saw in an art gallery;
the misty countryside looks like something out of a dream;
the colourful umbrellas being held above people’s heads
bring back different, and yet connected, memories;
the air is so pure and potent to my senses-
my ears hear only music, my tongue tastes only clarity,
my nose smells only the fragrance of nature,
my eyes see things and make them seem brand new and never before seen.
The world outside through the window
looks like a moving piece of art;
the feeling inside, where it is warm and dry, is cozy;
the character of things is accentuated,
and details hit you like a dart;
the place where you want to be
becomes all that you can think about, and want for,
and you know that who you are when you are there
is you being you only.
When the roads are a river;
when the parks and the benches of open spaces are vacant;
when the way you think and feel change because of the weather;
when you can do something you want to,
but other things you simply can’t;
when life demands that you take a breath, keep calm,
be a fighter, be at rest, soldier on, take it easy,
see order and beauty in chaos,
and look and appreciate everything you see-
like the world and the rain creating a wonderful,
real, dynamic, deep, and rich, constantly-changing,
watercolour.
There is the poet,
who is always writing his poetry;
there is the man with the gold-rimmed glasses,
who is always looking and tapping away at his laptop;
there is the woman who has a particular temperature,
a particular colour, and a particular way,
that she likes and she expects her coffee;
there is the lady who comes through the door,
and every time she comes in and I see her
she is wearing the same coloured top.
There is the man who is always doing his crossword puzzle;
there is the business man who is always lost in thought;
there is the couple who sit opposite one-another,
but who never talk;
there is the woman who is always dressed in her running-gear,
and listening to her music on her iPod-
happy to just stay in her own private bubble.
There is the man who is always reading the same novel;
there is the woman in the red blouse,
who is video-calling someone far away- I always assume;
there is the boyfriend who is constantly looking at his girlfriend,
as if no one else is more beautiful;
there is the girl who has a tattoo on her neck
in the shape of the crescent of the moon.
There is the woman who I always see eating a salad;
there is the man who always sits by the window,
in the same seat, listening to the music being played,
as he stirs and sips the coffee in his cup;
there is the woman who sits on her own in the corner,
looking down at her phone, who always looks sad;
there is the man who is always dressed
like he is about to play a game of football in a World Cup.
There is the mother with her daughter;
there is the father with his son;
there is the blonde-haired man in the black jacket and blue jeans,
who drinks his drink in a rush as if it was water;
there are the friends who always look as if all they want to do
is chill-out, talk, laugh, and have fun.
There are people who I am used to seeing
when I come in to the same coffee shop, every time;
there are people of every age, colour,
inclination, and character;
there are people who stay here all day,
and some who just stay for a short time;
there are people who I would count myself a member of the same group,
and for all intents and purposes,
until I get to know everyone else better,
I will just call us all “The Regulars”.
The sky is glowing;
the fields are bright green;
the trees are swaying;
the morning sunshine
is making everything look more beautiful
than I have ever seen.
The birds are singing;
the ladybirds are foraging;
the flowers are blooming;
the spirit of nature is renewing.
The wind is blowing;
the people are smiling;
the children are laughing;
the dogs are barking;
the cats are resting;
even those who have a job to do
are thoroughly enjoying being awake and alive-
looking, talking, rushing, walking,
evolving, and soaring.
The colours are vibrant;
the music is slow;
the energy all around is more tangible and potent
than you could ever want;
the liquid refreshments continue to flow.
The bells at the turn of the hour ring out;
the statues of metal and stone
look as if they are about to come to life;
there is ice-cream being eaten hurriedly before it melts;
there is the potential of a hopeful and happy future
to be seen in every shared like and dislike.
The lovers are loving;
the readers are reading;
the listeners are listening;
the searchers are searching.
The air is warm to the touch;
the unseen and unnoticed heroes and angels
are doing what they always do,
and are gifting as many people as they can
with hope, joy, love, and fun.
Caring about the well-being of another has never meant as much;
everyone and everything is thankful
as they smile and say hello to the sun.
When we stop looking back,
when we stop spinning around
and making ourselves dizzy,
when we stop being haunted by ghosts from the past,
when we stop worrying about everything we can’t control
and get to work on getting busy,
when we stop ourselves from being hacked by the opinions
and the fears of other people,
we can truly enjoy every second of life to its fullest
and be happy.
No one does anything,
no one goes anywhere,
without a reason,
or without something
that only they can bring;
no one would do anything
unless they cared about
what it means to be there.
People follow their dreams,
people work hard from the time that they are children at school,
at college, at university, at finding their passion,
at finding their calling-
people join groups, people become part of teams,
to be of something, to talk about something,
to have something of importance and meaning in their life,
which then connects them with other people of the same way of acting,
thinking, feeling, and then ultimately to everyone else on Earth,
and that is what we all search for and find always,
and most of the time in the last place that we would ever think to look;
life is not always a straight-line of events and connections
as it sometimes appears in the story of a film, or in a book.
Life cannot possibly come with detailed instructions,
or a blueprint to follow-
life is way too random and spontaneous for that;
life should not just be a checklist of what you want to do, and when,
because life has a funny way of showing you that that is not how it goes,
and sometimes you have to strike-out more than once to get a home-run
with the help of a good swing and a great contact
between a baseball and a baseball bat.
If you constantly focus and become obsessed with reaching the end
and achieving everything you have written down
on your personal list of things to do,
you can sometimes miss things along the way
that will make your journey that much more satisfying,
when you do wake up one morning
and realize the dream that you have just woken up from
was in fact memories of the life that you have had and have;
sometimes you can even forget who is the real you,
and that is why we all must expect, hope for, believe,
and make the most of, the good things ahead.
Flash! Bang!
Light and sound!
In the dark there is a beautiful and magic explosion of colour-
like a supernova, or a cosmic strand that you pull down from above
that makes you rise off the ground;
or like a rainbow shattering and showering the world,
as it lights up the sky with dazzling and spectacular sights,
and mesmerizing sounds that take you back in time
to memories of you when you were a child looking up at the stars
and then being amazed and held in wonder by sparks of magic
that remind you of the thoughts that go through your mind every second-
you couldn’t replace those moments even if you were to try,
you couldn’t feel any more special
unless you had felt and been touched by the hand of heaven.
The only thing that I can compare to the sight of fireworks
exploding above me in the dark night sky,
is the sight, the sound, the feeling, the heart-pounding sensation
and intoxication of being in love-
because when you are in love your heart feels like a firework
exploding and making you feel like you have been transformed
into a constellation of stars,
and as endless and infinite as the minds eye;
and you only hear and see that one person in the crowd,
because everything and everyone else is just a buzz.
I see the lights;
I feel the vibrations;
I fly as high as a kite;
I walk with the protection of what I know for sure, and what is for real;
and I run gladly with a fever,
as if I were carrying a life-changing contagion.
I put my hand to my chest and I feel deep love, and deep pride-
like an American celebrating the freedom and independence
they are gifted and guaranteed, and which every American remembers
and celebrates every year on the 4th of July.
I feel deep love and I do not mind that that love
sometimes makes me feel intensely, and at times it can even hurt,
because what it means to see, experience, live, and love,
looks and feels as magic and wondrous as exploding fireworks.
From out of nowhere the vortex appeared,
in the blink of an eye there was a bright flash of light,
the second that I saw it I fell into it,
I was travelling faster than light, faster than thought-
the entire universe spun, flashed by,
and became simple and confined,
and then expanded without barrier
and became infinite and clear,
and in an instant I was somewhere else, at another time,
lying on my back, awake, with memories I never knew I had
and I could not remember creating.
Finding myself, finding my feet,
standing up and looking around and at myself,
and every time I looked and I saw what was within me,
I saw a new horizon, a new view, a new world,
that I could see in every detail and in deep colour.
I know where I am, I know who I am;
I know what the vortex was;
I know when this is,
and because everything feels new but familiar at the same time
I don’t feel confused or lost.
I have been here before, and I will come back again;
I am walking in my own footprints,
and I know the memories they bring back of a time before-
like I know the face of an old friend.
Sometimes where I am feels like a beach of white sand
that I am standing on and facing out at
a blue, green, and gold-kissed ocean;
and at other times it feels like I am in the middle of a busy city;
at times it feels like I am in motion;
while at other times it feels like
I have been shocked into stillness,
as if having come in contact with a surge of electricity.
I am reliving my own memories and experiences,
and then I am floating above all and marveling at the beauty below me;
I am constricted within the shell of an egg,
and then I am breaking out of my own translucent bubble
and racing through a forest of trees.
Extraordinary thoughts occur to me.
Gorgeous sights reveal themselves to me.
Dreams become reality.
Time stretches infinitely.
The temperature changes from really hot to freezing cold.
I feel like I am a child
about to be pushed out into the light of the world,
and also at the moment of the end of the universe,
after coming out the other side of a wormhole.
Everyone has their own unique colour,
everyone has a way, a walk, a word, a wardrobe, a wish,
that is theirs, which perfectly describes and shows
a great deal about the heart that is constantly beating in their chest,
as well as the heart that they always wear on their sleeve-
like a child being held tightly by a mother.
Everyone carries a box of secrets,
everyone has hidden interests and thoughts,
feelings and loves, that they snuggle up to
when they are alone and in need of some comfort, or reassurance-
like an owner giving attention and affection to a beloved pet.
Everyone has a work of art that is a self-reflection
that they look at daily,
everyone can be everything they want to be,
and can feel things intensely externally,
and deeply internally.
Everyone is remembered by someone for being something,
everyone has been more in their life-time than they think.
Everyone has a favourite song, a favourite place,
a favourite thing to do, that brings them happiness;
everyone is a participant, an instigator,
an observer, a user, a witness.
Everyone is a scrapbook, an album,
a collection of special and shared memories and experiences;
everyone is a calendar, a diary, a phone-book,
of dates, people, fascinations, numbers,
and souvenirs of their travels,
that they have packed inside them and with them wherever they go-
like someone off on an adventure,
or off on holiday with their suitcase.
Everyone makes choices in their life
that feel right at the time they are making them,
which were always meant to be made the way that they were;
everyone feels great and warm in the sun,
and when standing in the rain everyone gets wet-
for some they actually feel better and cleansed
just by the act of being in and being touched
by the droplets of a rainstorms downpour.
I have an intense light within me,
and an overwhelming fire that no one could ever just describe
as a mere flash or a spark;
I have a sight, an instinct, a pulse, a passion for life,
a love of the best and the uniqueness of everything of Earth;
I have a life-long belief in hope,
and in the power of its effect, and witnessing hope,
and giving hope to someone in need, in any way,
is the key and the way to my heart.
The events of life are uncertain;
what will happen to us cannot be planned;
most of what makes the world work
is hidden behind an invisible curtain;
what is supposed to happen to us
is something that we have to come to and get to
on our own sometimes,
because there wont always be someone
to show us the right path and guide us by the hand.
Life is not always good.
Life is not always spectacular.
Life can sometimes feel like a lie.
Life can sometimes feel like you are standing in an ocean
with the water-level just below your head,
or like you are trying to withstand
a raging torrent in the middle of a flood.
Life can sometimes feel like you are walking around
with the pain of a fracture.
Life is what you succeed at every day,
just as long as you are willing to make an effort
in something that you believe in and feel passionately about-
and something that might not always be a work of art
that everyone will love,
but it doesn’t matter as long as you can always say that you tried.
One day can feel and can be a perfect, beautiful, sunny day,
while the next can be a rainstorm that doesn’t want to stop;
one day you can feel on top of the world,
while the next can be like you are living and existing
in an infinite reality of bubbles that are continuously forming,
floating, dancing through the air,
and then when you least expect, they go pop!
Some days can appear beautiful and bright,
some days can seem claustrophobic and dark;
some days can feel endless and hopeful,
and even at the end of the day when you think
you have seen and experienced it all,
you can suddenly look up at the sky
and see a vibrant display of colour,
even as the stars shine at night.
Some days, some days can seem like you are
constantly trying to escape from a prison,
and like a prisoner people just look at you
and see a number instead of a name-
as if at some point in your life
you were branded with a barcode
that can be read, or some other indelible mark.
You can’t always be who you want to be all the time,
because not everyone is able to understand you,
and most of the time you hide behind something
to disguise your true feelings and emotions-
so as to not start a hopeless fight, or get into a drama;
you can’t always say what you want to say,
because even though we can understand
a little of what someone says
sometimes you realize that you are in fact
talking a completely different language entirely-
because every conversation feels like a struggle,
and getting across what you want to say
just feels like it is getting harder and harder.
Every day can’t be aurora’s, shooting-stars, rainbows,
happy-filled, new adventures, that are blessed above
with blue sky and golden sunshine-
some days you may not even have a minute to yourself
to do what you want to do,
because it feels like everything is just work, work, work.
Every day is a lesson.
Every day is a mixture.
Every day is a creation of something that is of you-
some days it feels like you are a cook
cooking with an infinite number of ingredients,
that you just hope will come together at the end,
to make something worthwhile,
and so that when you look back on your life
you know that you did everything you did for a reason,
like a true Heisenberg.
A red pencil left on a counter.
A takeaway coffee cup with my name written on it
and written in red ink.
Coincidence? I think not!
A much needed intake of inspiration
and a sign for me that could not be more blatant,
nor more louder.
A question to ponder;
a truth to muse about;
a rhyme to write while I am enjoying my favourite drink.
It always amazes me and invigorates me
when I see things of meaning and clues of a great mystery-
and believe me, when I do look, I see a lot.
Every day is different.
Even when you come back to the same place
you have been countless times before,
you and it are always different-
as if the experience, the sound, the smell,
the air, the feeling, the taste,
but what never changes and only feels even more amazing every time
is the return of energy that you get back
for all the time and the currency of thought
and meditation that you have spent.
A heart beats to be heard.
A mind thinks to be stretched.
A voice speaks to be the outward expression
of a vastly deeper reality of what we see around us
than can ever be said completely, concisely, and clearly,
with any combination or any length of words.
An imagination formulates, constructs,
and imagines infinite worlds of wonder
than life, as beautiful, surprising, and random,
sometimes as it is could ever match.
I am seeing red.
This ‘red effect’ happens to me from time to time.
I start seeing this strong and vibrant of all the colours
worn by almost everyone and I see it for the first time
in and on things I look at all the time,
but for some reason I missed the red before-
like when you hear something said by someone
and you say to yourself: ‘Did I hear correctly?
Is that really what they said?’
Colours have meaning.
Colours show mood.
Colours are revealing.
Colours are an important clue.
Colour is something to take notice of.
Colour is deliberate.
Colour is something that can tell you what you need to know-
whether you are looking at or reading the patterns of the stars
that are always there- even when there is blue sky,
or cloud in the sky above.
Colour is more than colour.
And seeing red, for me-
coincidence? I think not!
The Life, the Light, the Tears, of the Poet of the Sphere 