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Something special,
something wonderful;
someone beautiful,
someone inspirational;
something invoking,
something flowing;
someone there,
someone who is like air.
Everything has an origin;
everyone has a birth;
everything and anything can be a win;
everyone is a product of the Earth.
Everything is a window;
everyone is a walking and talking autobiography;
everything can tell you what you want to know;
everyone has the right to be happy.
Something unexpected;
someone addictive;
something you have known and have held on to since you were kid;
someone who you enjoy, love, live, think about,
share, have to hold, and jive with;
something outrageous;
someone gifted;
something dangerous;
someone who feeds on life,
like the world relies on a constant charge from a power-grid.
Everything is multi-cultural;
everyone, at who and what they know they are, is a natural;
everything is fragile;
everyone is renewable,
and they can be someone,
and something, special.
There are morning stars,
there is morning music,
there are morning flights,
there is morning light,
there are morning people,
there is morning life waking up in cities,
towns, villages, homes, rooms, apartments, houses,
in families, in beds, in nature, in nests, in barns,
peacefully, calmly, dreamily,
and sometimes with a shock or a fright-
morning time for some is the best and the most wonderful,
for some when they wake up and they look out the window
the world looks as if it could stretch to infinity.
There are morning moments that can’t be replayed
at any other time of the day;
there are morning delights that make you smile;
there are morning voices and faces
that tell you that everything is going to be ok;
there are morning trials that you must sometimes run through
to make everything that you do worthwhile.
There is morning inspiration;
there is morning fascination;
there is morning creation;
there is morning elevation;
there is morning gravitation;
there is morning communication;
there is morning articulation;
there is morning anticipation;
there is morning illumination;
there are morning constellations,
still bright in the sky and shining,
as they have been for a million years;
there is a new day that I always enjoy exploring;
there are beautiful morning views that bring you to tears;
there is a miraculous magic to be found
in the light, the sounds, the time, the rituals,
of every morning.
Some people find perfection in stillness;
some people find perfection in silence;
some people find perfection in chaos;
some people find perfection in the instance
that they find balance.
Some people find perfection on a beach;
some people find perfection in a smile;
some people find perfection in what lies out of reach;
some people find perfection in a mosaic picture of broken tiles.
Some people find perfection in a photograph;
some people find perfection in a sunset;
some people find perfection in the sound of someone’s laugh;
some people find perfection in the sound of a clarinet.
Some people find perfection in a meal;
some people find perfection in a ceremony;
some people find perfection in being able to heal;
some people find perfection in the flowers, fruit, and leaves of a tree.
Some people find perfection in a waterfall;
some people find perfection in a coral reef;
some people find perfection in art painted on a wall;
some people find perfection in a recurring motif.
Some people find perfection in sharing;
some people find perfection in keeping something a secret;
some people find perfection in being daring;
some people find perfection in keeping the things
that no one would ever have thought to have kept.
Some people find perfection in words;
some people find perfection in music;
some people find perfection in telling someone something
they have never heard;
some people find perfection in the people, the places,
and the things that will forever be perfectly imperfect.
My favourite song is playing on the radio;
I am drinking my favourite drink, in my favourite place;
my thoughts are in over-drive,
as I sit, looking around, with a smile on my face;
it’s raining outside, but life is sweet
and I am happy and warm inside- like hot raspberry jam;
I am having a flashback and a flash-forward,
between a happy little boy,
and a content old man.
I have always felt like a conduit;
I have always sought out and shared;
I have always believed that you can carry everything you need,
most of the time, in your trouser pockets;
I have always gone to the edge,
taken a risk, and gone farther sometimes than others might choose to dare,
in thoughts, in feelings, on foot, on a path
that never doubles back on itself-
but the things that happen on it do feel strangely familiar;
life is a playground of spins, swings, ups, and downs,
tears, smiles, pain, and laughter-
so it is never a surprise to me that things reoccur.
In this day and age, everybody is looking for a power-point,
a place to plug-in and recharge;
everyday, everybody, wherever they are,
take advantage of the free,
the seemingly-indispensable, the small, the large;
today, right now, a billion years ago, always,
life in all its forms makes the most of what it has
and what surrounds it, and everything reacts and adapts
to certain things, at certain times, in a myriad of ways.
Things have a history;
you can always find a pattern to follow;
the definitive meaning of life will always be a mystery;
but what everybody and everything really needs to know
is always with you and inside you wherever you go.
You can’t go around life, you can only go through it;
you can’t hide yourself forever,
because one day someone will unlock your soul,
and read your mind, and know your heart better than anyone,
and make you realize that you too are a conduit.
There are always possibilities;
the future is not set in stone;
what we see and what we find
is sometimes beyond what we have dreamed about
in our fantasies;
what we build can last and endure for thousands of years,
like the Colosseum in Rome.
People and structures cast shadows
when the light of the sun is shining behind them;
thoughts and ideas are expressed instantly
when there is a phenomenal desire to share them;
music and poetry is the natural art of the soul
made tangible to ever sense of perception;
emotions and feelings always find a way
to give you some much-needed inspiration redemption.
Hope never dies;
those who fall must always try to get back up;
it’s good to smile, it’s good to cry;
you have to start at the bottom
to fully-appreciate what it takes to rise to the top.
You are always someone’s idea of perfection;
someone will always look back at you
and think of you as a dream come true;
you will always be the drug of someone’s addiction;
someone will do anything, and they will go anywhere,
just so that they can be happy-
and the reason that they are happy
is because they are with you.
We all go through things that are personal to us;
we are all at times affected and afflicted by the fever
and the cure of life;
we all remember what we have lost,
but what is important to you and to everything
is the thing that you take with you to sleep every night.
When you are out in the open,
staring out to the sea,
looking up at the clear blue sky,
or watching nature close-up maintain its never-ending cycle,
that keeps going, and keeps turning, and spinning,
like a multi-coloured, deeply-ingrained, album of vinyl;
when there is a light behind you
in place of a light and a direction to guide you,
you can always know where you are
and what time of your life it is
by looking around you and seeing the shape of the shadows
besides you and coming from you,
like telling the time by a sun dial.
A light has gone out.
A star has died.
The smiles and the laughter will live on
and dampen the fires of doubt;
who you were, who you are,
and who you will always be,
will fill our heart and soul with joy forever
and bring tears to our eyes.
You have been there all my life, since I was a child;
I cannot imagine the world without you in it;
your spirit still remains with us all,
and it feels like there is no one on this planet
who is not feeling an immense sense of loss right now
at your passing, and I myself am having trouble
coming to terms with the reality
that you are no longer with us, I have to admit.
It just doesn’t feel real;
it just doesn’t seem right;
knowing you are somewhere else makes me feel ill;
knowing that we all have lost someone special
makes me sad- like how a kid feels when he lets go
and can do nothing but watch the wind take away
the gift of joy that was his favourite kite.
I cannot begin to know exactly what to say;
I am genuinely struggling to know
how to stop myself from feeling so helpless;
I have been replaying every line and every word
that I heard you say all day;
I have been thinking about you
and about what I see of myself in who you were,
and echoes of you in me, and I see two people
who just want to make the world a better place
for us being in it, and also a shared wish
to surround ourselves with the people of this world
who to us are nothing short of the best.
Life is seldom straight-forward;
why we do what we do is not always easy to figure out;
life can sometimes seem like something
that we may want to run away from,
and sometimes we all can feel like a fraud,
but what you always taught me
was that no matter what is going on in our lives,
if we truly need and want someone to save us,
there is always someone waiting to throw us a life-belt.
You are someone who I will never forget,
and neither will my family,
as well as millions of people from all around the world,
who all agree wholeheartedly that you are one of the most
amazing, phenomenal, funny, smart, exceptionally-talented,
people there has ever been.
I will miss you so much, and I will remember you, watch you,
and think about you often, and I hope that you have found
what you were looking for, I hope you found peace.
Fly free. You will live forever.
Goodbye, you wonderful shining star.
Goodbye, Robin.
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.
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.
The sun is strong,
the temperature is hot,
the air like it is on fire,
the skin of everyone is burning and red-
no one wants to be inside on a day like today,
but no one wants to be scorched by the sun’s rays for too long:
you may love the sun, you may not,
but the sun can be too much for some sometimes,
and it can make people tired;
nevertheless though there is no way,
when the weather is like it is today,
anyone could possibly choose to stay in bed.
The heat of the city feels like a wave of energy;
the people out and about are like an ocean;
the shops and businesses have all there doors and windows open;
the breeze of the wind makes people feel at ease;
the life of many things combine,
and what can be felt and sensed
is like intoxication from fine wine.
The open spaces are like a haven for sun-worshipers;
the amount of people on the streets
is truly inspiring for street artists;
the food and drink being consumed
makes the entire day feel like a party;
the enjoyment that is openly apparent
makes it seem like everyone is on holiday.
Summer in the city, in any city around the world,
is different to spending your time on an island beach,
or in a town in a popular hot country,
where the sea, and the tops of mountains,
when they are touched by the sun shine like pearls;
summer in the city is an inspiring time and place-
there is so much to attract your attention,
and so many things to put a smile on your face.
Summer in the city is full of infinite sights, sounds,
smells, and tastes;
summer in the city is filled with tantalizing invitations
that only a fool would let go to waste;
summer in the city is like a bubbling coffee pot;
summer in the city- the metal, the windows, the ground,
the people, are hot.
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 Life, the Light, the Tears, of the Poet of the Sphere 