My Poem ‘Just You and Me’

Let’s go for a walk in the woods, just you and me;
let’s go hand-in-hand, as golden leaves fall all around us,
and conkers drop to the forest floor
from the branches of tall horse-chestnut trees.

Let’s go for a walk in the woods,
as the seasons change before our eyes;
let’s go for a walk in the woods
and be showered in sunlight,
as it breaks through from above and below
to hail the arrival of new life and new skies.

Let’s go for a walk in the woods
and watch spiders spin webs,
and rabbits appear fleetingly from their burrows;
let’s go for a walk in the woods
and let our imaginations run wild
while we search for the origin of every shadow.

Let’s go for a walk in the woods,
let us just stand there surrounded by transformation
going on underground and in the air;
let us just stop and breath in perfection into out lungs
and feel its effect on our mind and sight;
let us become intoxicated by nature and the suns light
and walk without a direction until day turns into night.

Let’s go for a walk in the woods
and say nothing with words, but everything with a smile,
everything with a look, everything with a touch;
let’s go for a walk in the woods
and feel inseparable while in each-others clutch.

Let’s go for a walk in the woods, day-after-day,
in the sun, in the rain, in the wind, and in the snow;
let’s go for a walk in the woods
and appreciate how fortunate we are to be here at this time,
in this place, and what we leave behind when it is time to go.

Let’s go for a walk in the woods,
let us run through the woods as if we were children
who could go anywhere we wanted, without fear-
closing our eyes, with our arms out-stretched like wings-
not even realizing the gift that we have of choosing
who it is that we want to be.
Let’s go for a walk in the woods
and walk in our own footprints-
content, because we are together,
because, as far as we are both concerned,
it will always be just you and me.

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My Poem ‘The Falling Leaf’

A gust of wind blew through the trees,
as I stood in my favourite forest
and watched a single leaf break-away from its branch,
and begin to fall to Earth.
As this lone leaf descended above me,
right in front of me, time appeared to freeze.
This leaf, for some reason, was now defying gravity itself-
its fall had somehow become interrupted-
it was now floating and turning in the air right in front of me,
as if I were witnessing a token of nature and the world’s unlimited wealth.
The rest of the world was a blur to me;
the leaf, however, I could see with impeccable clarity.
Everything felt like a dream, but this wasn’t a fantasy-
this was like another state of reality.
There wasn’t a sound to be heard,
and yet I thought that I could feel noise all around-
something that was keeping me on my feet,
but denying the leaf from finding the ground.
It was as if I was watching a magic trick,
but I knew that it wasn’t an illusion
orchestrated by a magician, nor a hallucination-
what I was experiencing was, I can only describe as being,
like a moment of regeneration-
and this leaf had chosen to sacrifice itself
so that this necessary change could take place;
this leaf was all life on Earth,
this leaf was the changing face of every Earth-born race.
The air was cold, but I felt like a warm flame-flickering lantern;
the trees were still, but the golden leaf continued to turn.

And then, the rest of the world came back into focus.
Another gust of wind blew through the forest,
the branches of the behemoths all around me swayed from side-to-side,
all the leaves from all the trees suddenly fell to Earth as-one-
as if the entire forest had cried.
Every golden leaf that had once been green
and had coloured these woods every shade of life imaginable
now spiralled down through the air to the floor- around me, on me;
however, there was one exception:
the leaf that had fallen first was the last to touch the Earth
that lay in waiting-
it fell, but it fell in its own time, at its own pace-
saying a long goodbye to an existence that it was forsaking.
I was tempted to put out my hand to stop the leaf from completing its journey,
but then I berated myself for such a thought
and I continued to watch the leaf spin for the last time,
and then settle on top of all the other leaves on the ground
that moments ago were high above me.

I looked down at the leaf, until I could no longer discern which leaf had fallen,
froze time, and fascinated me so intently;
and then I looked up again at the trees and branches
that were now bare and free of foliage,
and my mind and thoughts felt flooded, but clear,
and teaming with energy and peace-
like the water of the Great Barrier Reef.
My focus was now clear,
my foundations of life were now cemented.
I believe that I witnessed the beginning, the end,
and the beginning of another universe
that began in the time that it took
to watch the slow flight of a falling leaf.

My Poem ‘Mist Fields of My Home’

While I lay in my bed the previous night,
a blanket of fog had risen and had covered my home;
while walking the streets and the lanes of my village,
in the early hours of the morning,
details and landmarks were obscured to me-
it was like everything was covered in foam.
The mist before me was thicker than I had seen in a long time-
it was as if my home was floating in the sky,
surrounded on all sides by cloud,
with the light of lamp-posts dimly shining like stars in a line.
It felt like I was not only walking around my home,
but also walking the pavements of my own misty mind-
the cold of the morning had stolen my thoughts,
as the fog had stolen my vision-
making me effectively blind.

There was no wind, but the air all around was bitterly cold;
there was no frost to be found on the ground,
but it felt like I was at the North Pole-
if it were not for my coat, my scarf,
and the fact that I never stopped for a second,
I believe that I would have been frozen to death;
and if it were not for the sound of my own foot-falls,
I would have thought that I had gone deaf.
There was no one to be seen, and this was 8.30 in the morning;
I found myself missing the sun more and more,
every minute without it felt like we hadn’t had a proper day’s dawning.

The green fields that I rambled across could still be seen under-foot,
but from a distance you could be forgiven
for mistaking them for ghostly-white-
no rabbits to be spotted emerging from their burrows,
nor any birds to be witnessed above in full-flight.
It was like everything- all life, but me- was frozen below the surface,
or still tucked-up in their bed;
while I carried out my morning ritual, as best I could
considering I couldn’t see what was ahead.

As soon as I reached the tree-line of my favourite wood,
a smile came across my face at the sight of this special place to me;
for reasons so complex and important I cannot describe, if only I could;
however, what I can say is that the trees that inhabit this forest
have an energy to them that I have felt no where else-
every time I come back, I feel like I can just be myself.

As soon as I walked among the trees,
the sound of life returned to my ears, and I felt free-
the smell of the trees, the sound that they make when they sway;
the wing-beats of a hawk flying through the trees-
overcame my own personal fog, and got inside of me.

As I stood there,
taking in everything that my senses would allow me to comprehend,
as sunlight streamed in and bathed me in light so clear and energizing,
I thought that I could stand there forever through every element
and season of nature until my end.

Every time I come back to this place
the experience is even more moving and profound than the last-
rain, snow, or sunshine,
wet, freezing, or baking in warmth,
the time that I spend here is just what I need-
it never goes too slow, or too fast.

When I exit the forest, and return to the outside world,
blue-sky and bird-song is everywhere around me,
and there is the faintest aroma of a cooked English breakfast on the breeze,
as leaves before me twist and swirl.

All is right with the world again,
and all is right again with me.
I have a smile on my face,
I can think clearly,
and I can see.

I think about the woods, the trees, the fields,
and how lucky I am to live where I live,
what it all means, and how when I am here I never feel alone-
and I thank my parents for raising me in this place of perfection-
the Centre of England- so that I may call it the place where I belong,
the place I love, and the place where I shall always call my home.