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I wonder how many people leave their house and home these days
every morning without a plan or a roadmap
of what they are going to do;
I wonder how many people embrace
the not knowing what is going to happen;
I wonder how many people are truly free to think,
stop talking, look, and listen;
I wonder how many people are truly able
to stay in one spot and not move.
I am lucky to be able to do just that,
I am lucky to be able to sit back and relax
with a coffee in a comfy chair, like I am doing now,
looking out, and thinking about so many things-
I know not what-
and just writing something, anything,
whatever is on my mind, and what I see-
wanting to say what I can’t say outloud.

People love to express themselves so much,
people love to talk and share more than they realize,
people can’t wait to divulge,
people can’t wait to tell someone something face to face-
it’s written all over their expressions,
and you can tell that they have been desperate to disclose
their inner thoughts and opinions,
from the twinkle that you see in their eyes.

I don’t mean to be a watcher, and an observer of other people
just going about their daily lives;
I don’t mean to be a magpie of the interesting things
that I hear people say-
the chat of friends meeting up after a long while,
the back and forth of boyfriends, girlfriends,
husbands, and wives;
but I am always fascinated and entranced
by the stories of everyone I briefly come into contact with-
while I just sit there, drink,
take out my notebook, and think;
but I don’t think people truly realize how much they give.

I do this a lot, actually.
Every week I find myself at my favourite coffee house,
and I write about what is on my mind-
what I am feeling, and I am always asking a question of myself,
as I talk at the top of my voice
in the language of poetry,
because some things, I have discovered, cannot be said
without first finding the words and the means
to say what you want to say,
without the feeling of being limited in any way, or confined.

This poem, like most of my poems,
is a memory, a time-capsule,
a black and white fraction of time,
that was a part of my day, today.
This poem, like most of my poems,
is, and was, just a musing, a burst of inspiration,
and creativity, that I wanted to share,
and write, right away.

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A wanderer and writer of embrace and rhyme-
like a traveller of dimension’s, space, and time;
I am a Poet, an observer, a lover of words and people,
who loves to write about the world as if seeing it from a steeple:
looking at everything and everyone, and seeing it as it is: as one,
from horizon to horizon being bathed in the energy and light of the sun-
whether it be a hamlet, a town, a city, a region, a state,
or an entire country: everything and everyone has a story to tell that relates.
The thrill of imagining, creating, imparting new life into common connections:
everyday thoughts, feelings, sights, and sounds, and renewing them into projections,
is what I love to do, to imbue, to write about, and to convey-
what I think about, what I dream about, and what inspires me every hour of every day.
I like to think of myself not so dissimilar to the wandering minstrel of old,
who travelled from town to town with music and the retelling of stories he had been told;
however, I guess, I am more of a twenty-first century minstrel, poet, and bard-
who, with the help of the internet, loves to share his poetry with the world at large.
The freedom to imagine, to express; the ability to go where no one has gone before,
is the gift of every person on this planet- to seek their hearts desire, and to explore.
To me, poetry is the road that has no end; to me, poetry is my unlimited currency to spend;
to me, poetry is a connection to the universe that I would highly recommend;
to me, poetry has a power unto itself- that can connect every man, woman, lover, and friend.

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