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The day had been planned for for months;
the moment had been imagined and re-imagined
over and over over in my head;
the thought about what I would say gave me goose-bumps;
the alignment of all the stars that had to happen
to bring about a meeting of minds, lives, books, authors,
still makes me feel like a kid at Christmas again;
the anticipation, the journey,
the waiting in-line outside the grand Waterstones bookstore
in Birmingham with my friend,
is something that I will always remember,
and it will always be special to me-
I remember bringing more than one book to get signed
by one of my favourite authors,
but just the thought of what I was doing
and who I was doing it with,
and the memory and experience that I was sharing
was what truly made me happy.

Being a writer can sometimes be a solitary endeavour,
and by its nature writing must be a personal act
that only you can do alone;
being a writer can sometimes feel like you are a traveler
off on an adventure,
and the only person who can truly understand what its like,
what it means, and what you can do,
is another writer who is on their own journey-
while sitting in a coffee shop surrounded by sound,
or a writer in their own space,
writing feverishly on their computer or in their notebook,
in the comfort and solitude of their home.

What I loved about waiting in-line for so long
was that I got to listen and notice people around me,
who were just like me,
and who were just as excited about coming face to face
with someone who made them imagine, think, feel,
something, and share something with someone else-
that is exactly what happened with me:
I read something, I was touched by something,
I was gifted an amazing story,
because of a phenomenal and magical writer,
and I instantly felt the need to share it-
as if I were under a spell.

When my friend and I reached the top of the windy stairs,
and finally came eye to eye with the author
that we had both been looking forward to meeting,
I honestly felt like the author, myself, and my friend,
were the only people in the bookstore,
at the book signing event,
and that everyone had suddenly, magically, left;
it was amazing looking down at my favourite writer,
talking to him about how I loved his writing
and the inspirational commencement speech
that he gave a few years ago
which made me too go off on my own creative quest-
however, the truly amazing and the most epic thing ever
was when I took out my own book that I had signed for him
and I handed it to him as I told him that I too was an author,
and to this day I still remember what a thrill,
and what an honour, it was when my favourite author
accepted my own gift and then extended his hand to me,
and in that infinite and fantastic moment
I felt a connection and a transference of knowledge and wonder,
and storytelling magic, from one author to another.

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Memories and thoughts,
voices and echoes,
strangers and shadows;
what is going to happen next no one really knows,
what will happen all depends on where
and in which direction you want to go.
You can be just standing in the sun
when a face from the past will stop you
and say hello to you,
and say also ‘remember me’;
you can be lost in thought enjoying the sunshine
when something amazing and out of the ordinary
might happen and take you away to where you were going
and where you need to be.

It is amazing how many people you remember meeting,
and how many people remember meeting you;
it is the best thing ever when you run into someone
you didn’t think you would ever see again,
and you just start talking like no time has passed
between you seeing each other,
and it all just comes unexpectedly and out of the blue.

When I shake someone’s hand and I say goodbye to them,
I always think that that will be the last time
that I will see them in the light of the day again;
when I say goodbye it always feels like forever;
however, time and again, I am reminded that nothing is final,
and that life is sometimes as predictable as the weather.

There is nothing like seeing surprise in someone’s eyes;
there is nothing that feels like perfection than a connection;
there is nothing that is sweeter than a hopeful dreamer;
there is nothing more inspiring and invigorating
than the stories of a true dreamer, adventurer, traveler, story-teller.

When you leave your home, and you roam;
when you see things without having to look;
when you literally get a feeling in your bones;
when you know that something is meant for you,
and meant to happen to you,
and is more than just good luck;
when someone does something for you
and they do it with no expectation of anything in return,
especially if genuine compassion and generosity
doesn’t happen to you that often,
then you will see and believe that something, or someone,
once seen will never and can never be forgotten.

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Night is when I come alive.
Night is when I am free.
Night is when I feel my drive.
Night is when I am me.
Night is when the universe can truly be seen.
Night is when the sonnet of the stars can be read.
Night is when I go to the places I have never been.
Night is when I live the dream others imagine
as they lie asleep in their bed.
Night is when the heavens look there most beautiful.
Night is when the call of the wild can be heard.
Night is when people change into something
that connects them with that
which goes beyond the physical.
Night is when no one needs to utter a word.
Night is when you see, hear, and feel things
that take your breath away.
Night is when sound reigns supreme.
Night is when you look back and remember
all of the things that happened to you that day.
Night is when you reflect on the way things are,
the way things were, and the way things could have been.
Night is when the best stories are born.
Night is when we all cloak ourselves in the wonder of the dark.
Night is when the world catches it’s breath
before the awe of the new days dawn.
Night is when fire returns to being
the seed of its first spark.
Night is when we find peace.
Night is when we gain a new sight.
Night is when every dog is let off the leash.
Night is when we become the embodiment of the night.

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I love sitting down in Starbucks and looking around me,
I love seeing people and hearing people,
I love looking out the window,
I love listening to the song being played
and instantly being inspired to write a poem or two
of my finest poetry, while enjoying a muffin and a coffee.
I love my ritual, I love my habit of drinking a sip or two
of my drink, opening up my notebook, readying my silver pen,
on the empty page before me, looking around,
taking in what I see, and letting out what I am thinking
at that moment, and finding a convergence of parallel energies
and inspirations, and watching them come together before my eyes
and grow into a piece of art I am constantly molding
as if in clay until it becomes something recognizable, and beautiful-
even if what I am trying to say and express at first
is like a wave on the rise, and I absolutely love riding that wave,
I have to say.
I love watching my pen do all the work,
as if it has a mind and a will of its own,
and letting my imagination, mind, heart, and soul, and my breath
be taken away, as my spirit is carried away,
and when that happens to me nothing can stop me,
and no one can get in my way.

This is the life, and it is great to be able to do it if you can do it.
I am lucky to have a lot of time on my hands to connect
with some of my favourite people in the entire world
on a daily basis, and be inspired, and I am inspired
every hour of the day.
The life I am blessed to live and I are definitely a good-fit.
My hunger for knowledge and new thought,
and my awe at seeing dreams become a reality,
and witnessing people being able to do what they love
with who they love, and be happy, is a feeling inside me
that can’t ever be kept at-bay.

I see people connecting all around me, in words, in stares,
in thought, in actions, in ink, in text, in voice,
over the air, on paper, and wirelessly over the internet;
I see people enraptured in conversation in different ways,
and in different forms, and at different speeds-
all caught-up, and balancing, and feeling, and responding,
to all the vibrations that they hear and sense,
like a spider on a web.

Whenever the torrent of inspiration becomes too much,
and swamps me so much, I sometimes find it hard
to stay afloat and see everything that I need to see to keep going;
whenever I need a raft to help me traverse the raging river
that I love to ride and paddle down at full-speed,
or at a leisurely-pace, sometimes,
I only need to look at a photo of my beautiful muse,
and everything becomes clear and comes together,
and I see and I feel every part of the energy inside me,
and that which I take in from the rest of the world
in my blood, and I can’t stop my train of thought,
or my pulse, nor the endorphins in my brain,
from surging and flowing.

My muse is my saviour.
My muse is my heroine.
My muse is so caring,
and I have never met anyone in my life more braver.
My muse is my best friend, and the one who I love
in infinite ways and always,
and who vibrates effortlessly with unbounded love,
appeal, and inspiration, like no one else I have ever seen.
I am inspired every day by everything and everyone,
but without my life, my experiences, my instinct,
my family, my friends, my muse,
I would just be someone of much thought and deep feeling
and emotion who had so much to say
but who had no way of knowing it
or a means or the magic of words to say it.

I am many things to many people,
but first and foremost I am a friend
who is always here for you when you need me,
and I go by many names: Mark, Poet of the Sphere, 1066,
someone on the street who wanted my attention
even called me ‘Heisenberg’,
and I don’t mind being called any of those great names-
but I must admit, I do love it when someone sends me a message
and calls me ‘Mr. Poet’.

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A picture to remember us by,
a photo to look back on
and relive the happy memory
of a shared experience and a shared time;
a shell from the beach where two people used to walk
hand in hand and barefoot in the soft wet sand;
a ticket stub from a trip to the cinema you took with someone
to see a great film late at night;
an old receipt from your favourite restaurant,
a birthday card, a letter, a message-
a tangible memento that you can still feel
and still remember when and where and why and with whom
this meaningful and special thing to you
became a memento to you, and became so important to you
because of its connection with that someone that effected you
and always will, or because it just reminds you of the days
when you and your life were in their prime,
and everything felt perfect and right.

When times get bad,
when the waves of the sea of reality get rough,
when instead of looking forward you want to look back,
when you want to appreciate something in all it’s greatness,
when you want to remember the instant when you first fell in love,
when you want to go for a walk in the park of a relationship
when things were at their best,
when you are stuck inside on a rainy,
it’s good to take out and look at things-
things that may be spread all over your house
in places where you can constantly look to and know they are there,
things you always carry around with you in your pocket,
or things that you have collected together in a scrapbook for yourself
to look at and remember-
and that is why it is so important to keep what you can,
and don’t throw everything away.

I think photo-albums are amazing;
I think keeping a diary or writing in a journal is a fantastic thing to do,
and I think it is a brilliant way to record days, events,
and recollections of moments in your life;
I think a scrapbook is the best thing to start with a child
when they are just beginning to understand why certain things
and certain times mean more to us than others,
and why certain people constantly pop-up in the memories we have
and we return to, because it teaches them early-on,
and will remind them every time and always,
why we replay and know all the lyrics to the songs we remember and sing,
and that everyone can live on, as can we, after we die.

It’s sometimes only when we are alone
and looking for some reassurance about something
that we choose to look, re-read, remember, recall,
where something in our possession originated from
and who gave it to us-
it could be a faded photo;
it could be a worn-out piece of paper
with someone’s unique handwriting on it;
a t-shirt that you refuse to wash
because it still has someone’s smell on it;
it could be a precious, special, memory,
from which there are no souvenirs, or photos,
or anything that you can ever hold in your hand,
because it was so brief, instantaneous,
and because you simply did just have to be there to understand
the true meaning of the moment-
they are the very best, and they are the incredible,
and irreplaceable, mementos.

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Her sparkling eyes dazzle more brilliantly
and twinkle more brightly than the shining stars
I see at night;
her warm and glowing smile radiates more amazingly
and stunningly than the sun that blesses my day;
when she wakes up every morning;
as she opens her eyes and spreads her wings,
she takes off from her slumber
and she just briefly takes flight;
when she yawns and opens her mouth to greet the new light
a slight growl can be heard in her voice to warn any bad spirits
that might want to come her way.

When the golden sunlight first touches her face,
the beat of her butterfly heart intensifies
and thunders silently in her chest;
when the heat of the day is felt by her
on the crown of her mane of hair,
her tiger eyes close and then widen in extreme delight and pleasure;
when she feels the sensation of the cool air of the wind
captivate her and carry her,
her butterfly beauty changes the colour of her skin like a chameleon,
and the whole world can see her mimetic spirit
pulse and vibrate and reflect her inner infinite beauty
outwards in every imaginable colour of the rainbow-
like witnessing a deep and meaningful secret of nature confessed;
when she walks with confidence and with purpose,
the impact and the sound of her inner tigress stride
hypnotizes everyone who sees her,
and sometimes when people see her walk by them
they have to look twice to see whether she actually
walks on two legs or four.

The sky is like the dreams that she plays in daily,
and those that she inspires in the minds of others-
and when people do dream of her, at night or in the day,
they know she is still with them,
because the hopeful symbol of renewal is ever-present,
and because they know that the appearance of the butterfly
that they see is no coincidence or accident-
because the human butterfly that she is is also the one
and the queen of all the beautiful butterflies of nature
that influence and make possible the momentum and the magic of the whole;
as she walks passed other people, and she sees their inner animal guides
and nature walking along side them,
while still being a part of them,
and the instinctual representation of them, to those with the sight,
and as she bows her head to stone statues that welcome her to pass by them
and cross their path, like a Bridge of Lions in sunny St. Augustine in Florida,
she feels her wild beating heart and the blood in her veins surge with energy
and intensity, and make her feel incredible emotion
and an overwhelming connection to all things that walk on the ground,
or those that fly in the air, that she has felt all her life,
and the joy that she feels every time makes her imagination
come alive and race out of control.

She is a butterfly.
She is a tiger.
The world see her in so many ways,
but there are not enough words to ever describe her by.
No one can ever not be touched and effected by her.
She is a tiger butterfly.
She is a butterfly tiger.
When you see her you too will feel wild,
when you feel her your heart and your spirit
will lift you off the ground too,
so that you know what it is like to see true beauty
in all its forms, and fly higher and higher,
with the strength and the courage of a tiger,
and with the wings of a butterfly.

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Everybody wants that special person in their life
who they can turn to, and talk to, and look to,
and listen to, whenever they need someone;
every one of us wants to fall asleep
thinking about something that that special person in our life
did for us that made us happy, and always makes us happy-
just the sight of their eyes looking back at us,
or a message from them that may be inaudible to anyone else
who read it resounds and echoes loud and clear
in the cavenous expanses of our mind,
and drives the current of our inner river,
and produces rainbows in the waterfall of our imagination.
That special someone can be all that you need to
make you want to wake up, live, and go to sleep,
feeling incredible, and like you too, for knowing them,
are special.

Love is easy.
Love is the best thing ever-
when the place is perfect, and the time is right.
Love should feel easy,
love shouldn’t ever feel a struggle-
when real love comes calling and you recognise its face at first sight,
even though you may have not seen it before,
or if you have not for a long time.
Love is unquestionable.
Love is the best, the most potent, and the most life-changing drug,
and you can express love in so many ways-
deeply, intimately, eternally, beautifully, simply,
sometimes with just a stare, a touch, a word, a kiss,
a gift of belonging, connection, togetherness-
from a boyfriend to a girlfriend,
from a wife to a husband,
from a friend to a best friend-
in the way of a hug.

Gifts of affection come in many forms-
sometimes out of the blue,
like a surprise trip somewhere for two,
a reminder that someone loves you
and was thinking about you,
and they saw something while they weren’t with you
but as soon as they saw what they saw
they knew it would be the perfect present for you.

Two people who are in love
but don’t always say it to each other,
but who try to show it every day-
and not just on Valentine’s Day-
know that as long as they have each other,
as long as they have what no one could ever take
or replace, which they know is never going anywhere-
those two people, even though they may be apart sometimes
will always know that they will forever have
a vital piece of one another in their heart,
and that knowledge and that truth and that feeling
is hidden in plain sight for them to see, recognise,
and find.

You can feel and find love five seconds after meeting someone.
You can know you have found the one person who you want
to spend the rest of you life with the instant you feel their pull,
and their force of attraction becomes more powerful
and important than gravity,
and when you look at them and every time you do
you are in-awe iof them and stunned.
You can see someone over and over again everyday,
but the time for your two hearts and lives to combine
might not ne instantaneous and may come gradually
the more you learn about each other,
and the more you see in them what you have been searching for,
and what you have always wanted;
something that can make you do something amazing
that you would never do for anyone else
and have never done before for anyone else-
like buying someone a bouquet of flowers,
writing someone a letter,
telling someone a secret,
showing someone something that means something to you
for some reason that is personal and meaningful to you.

When I want to say something, or do something special
for my special someone, I like to do it with all my heart,
and I put eveything into it, and I like to leave
and give a part of me to someone in every word
and in every rhyme and message of my poetry-
and I like to play my own song,
I like to create my own music,
I like to send my voice into and over the air
for the one I love, and for the one who loves me
to find and to hear, and feel me and what I want them to feel,
and I want them to think of me whenever they hear my melody,
whenever they hear their melody,
whenever they hear our melody.

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At the bottom of my garden,
there grows a grand, towering, amazing, apple tree-
I still remember planting its seed in the ground when I was a child,
watering it for the first time with its first vital drops of water,
watching it grow year after year until its top branch grew so high
it looked like it could almost touch the sky
and too high for me to see.
I have had this fantasy for years
of climbing to the top branch of the apple tree
and picking the apple that lies the farthest out of reach,
returning it to my kitchen, chopping it up,
and baking it in an apple pie,
but the apple tree is so dense, precious,
and important to me, to our family,
I would hate to see even a single apple come to harm-
I don’t think I could live with myself
if it got sick or died.

As I stood looking up at the beautiful, majestic,
glowing, due-speckled, green, and red, apples,
as golden sunshine streamed through the apple tree’s branches
and cast a shadow on me, the wind blew delicately,
I heard the sound of breaking and then the sound of something
hitting nearly every branch on the way down
and falling from high above to the ground.
As I looked up, I could see the biggest,
and the greenest, apple that I had ever seen in my entire life,
fall like lightning from a thunder cloud.
I had just enough time to be able to catch a glance
at the great apple and reach out with my right hand
to catch it before it fell and touched the soil
covering the apple trees roots-
the apple was heavier than I expected,
and as it lay in the palm of my hand,
and as I considered what had to happen to make it grow so high
and then fall so far,
I had a revelation about life, about myself,
about what lies at the centre of us all-
human beings, birds, the Earth, as star,
as well as what can be found in an embryo,
or in an apple’s core,
and I instantly had this overwhelming urge to bit into the apple
and potentially taste and be reminded what is important in life:
how what grows above ground and below the Earth
is connected to everything that grows
in a thousand acres of rainforest, in every garden-
what flourishes and what can be found on the ocean floor.

I bit into the apple and the sweet taste of it skin
and the juiciness of its pulp overwhelmed all my senses
and took me back in my mind to the day, to the minute,
to the instant that I first put the apple pip into the soil,
all those years ago,
and I felt like I had witnessed, tasted, and had been gifted
something that I had never experienced before,
and it felt wonderful!

When I blinked my eyes, I was now at the foot of the tree again,
looking up, thinking abut the miracle that is growth
and the incredible significance, the insight,
what we can all learn about life
by witnessing the descent of a falling apple.

It’s so easy to talk to you.
I feel like I can say anything.
Since I first met you
I have had this feeling when you look at me
that you know and understand me.
It is as if we two are kindred spirits-
meant to meet, to become friends,
meant to come through all that we have been through in our lives,
meant to share the same aspirations, dreams,
optimism, and point of view,
meant to teach and to learn from one another,
and to enjoy all the gifts of insight
that our shared connection continues to bring.

I have learned more from you,
and I have learned more about myself from you,
in the short-time that I have known you
than I have learned from people that I have known for years.
You have been a breath of fresh air for me,
so much so that I look forward to the next time
that I talk to you with great anticipation.
You and I know each other so well,
even when we are not talking,
it’s like we have our own telepathy.
I believe that the chances of us meeting
at any other time but right now
are so astronomically out of the realms of possibility
that the reason that we get on so well, so quickly,
can only come down to one thing: destiny.

The summer truly began for me when you walked into my life.
Within the first five minutes of knowing you
I felt that the more we spoke the more inspiration,
strength, self-confidence, tranquility, hopefulness,
I derived.

You can’t force compatibility.
You can’t forge a friendship without mutual trust.
You can’t fake true authenticity.
You can’t forget someone who is as great a person as you are in a hurry,
nor do I want to contemplate a time
when you are no longer there for me to talk to-
when that time does eventually come to pass,
I must admit that I am going to find it hard to adjust.

I hope that you are reading this.
I hope that you and I, however near or far away in the future,
will always remember the season and the times that we spent together.
I hope that for both of us the events of our lives thus far
will one day be eclipsed by that which lies ahead.
I hope that we will always share a connection of spirit-
one shared by people who give meaning to each-others lives,
and who forever will be kindred.

I miss you when I don’t see you,
I miss you when we don’t talk,
I miss you when I think of how much I love you,
I miss you when the feeling in my stomach starts to bubble
and fizz, and then my love for you rises and overflows
like champagne flowing from a champagne bottle,
after the pressure inside overcomes and pops the cork.

Talking to you has always felt so natural,
what we have said to each-other has always felt important,
intimate, integral, illuminating;
having the connection that we have is incredible, amazing, beautiful;
sharing our lives, our likes, our loves, our looks, with each-other
makes the time that we spend together all that more worth the waiting.

I think a lot about what brought us together;
I have thought a lot about why we keep coming back to each-other;
and when I think about who and how I was before I met you-
the years that I spent without you, that now feel like the whole time
I was traversing through stormy weather-
and the thought and the sensation occurs to me
that we were always fated, destined, to meet
and to find one-another from birth;
I believe that my love for you has been entwined into the path of my life,
has traveled miles, and has overcome distance and oceans-
we are forever linked by an unbreakable tether.

I have spent hours looking into your eyes
reveling in the spell that you cast on me;
I have spent days in-awe of your beautiful smile,
from which only the most perfect voice could arise;
I have spent weeks immersed in everything about you that I remember-
and I have come to the conclusion that every perfect part of you
is a thing of unbelievable beauty.

Our relationship with each-other has been a fascinating one,
our time spent in each-others thoughts has been more precious,
passionate, and inflamed than the surface of the sun.
What you mean to me is never going to change.
You are like my life-force, the reason that my heart continues to beat,
you are forever in my mind, you are in my blood.

One day, a beautiful butterfly flapped her wings
and the course of my life was changed forevermore;
one day, I saw the face of the one person I will never stop loving,
and who I will always adore-
and from that day, through all that life has tested and gifted me with,
I know now that there was always going to be me and you.
You mean so much to me, and I just want you to know that I love you.

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