You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘songs’ tag.

I have loved music for as long as I can remember;
in all honesty, I have loved music
longer than I have loved poetry;
I have loved music, I have been changed by music,
I have felt more alive than ever
when listening to music,
I have been overcome with emotion when listening to music;
I have closed my eyes, been taken,
carried far, deep, and high-
as if I were swimming in the voice, the lyrics,
and the sound of the music, the energy of the music,
and drifting peacefully, contently, effortlessly,
free like a feather.

Music has been a big part of my life since before I could talk;
music had me running before I could walk;
music sent me to sleep and coloured my dreams;
music awoke me every morning as a child,
and within the heart of my soul
it has always been and will always be.

I must have heard thousands of songs;
I must have heard hundreds of artists,
singers, musicians, and bands;
I must have dreamed that I were John Lennon
playing guitar and singing along with the other Beatles
about fifty times, bu I could be wrong;
I must have had more favourite songs in my life
than I could count with the fingers on both of my hands.

I love songs, styles, speeds, of every type,
and possible genre, and classification, of music;
I love songs that take a hold of both my mind and my heart,
and make me feel epic;
I love songs that have unique, poetic, empathetic,
sometimes tragic, lyrics;
I love songs that are nothing short of celestial magic.

I love female voices;
I love male voices;
I love instruments;
I love voices that are soulful, special, lyrical,
incredible, unbelievable, beautiful, different;
I love who I am when a song makes me want to dance;
I love when a song puts me in a trance;
I love what I think about when a song is playing;
I love where I go within myself,
as I sing along to every song,
and as I repeat every line without mistake,
it is almost as if I am chanting or praying;
I love a song that to me is nothing short of perfect;
I love life, art, inspiration, memories,
feelings that were made, created, felt, captured,
made infinite, because of, and for,
the love of music.

IMG_20140902_142848

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’.

image

Every second we are transmitting;
every minute we are all broadcasting;
every hour we are all receiving;
every day we all sharing and revealing.

Every morning I feel something I have never felt before
and I reach out;
every morning I write something I might have said
a thousand times before,
but every time I say it again I mean it even more than before,
and to me it is like an ice cube that will never melt.

I have a tendency to repeat myself,
to watch something, and read something, over and over,
and to listen to a song continuously on its own
or part of a playlist;
I love seeing, hearing, and remembering,
things, music, people, places, memories, song-lyrics-
especially when all those wonderful things
combine into one perfect moment-
like the time you are listening to one of your favourite songs
while looking into the eyes of the one you love,
and sharing your first kiss.

I am addicted to communication, and sharing a connection.
If I think, read, see, or hear something
I feel other people would respond to, love,
like, and share too, I get so much pleasure in writing,
tagging, re-blogging, texting, and tweeting, messaging,
a link, a quote, a photo, a picture,
or writing a poem about it,
and seeing the ripple-effect of reactions.

I could talk for hours about hundreds of different things
and have a myriad of opinions about everything-
from religion to literature, from music to television;
I could talk for days about who I have met in my life,
what happened, and what I have seen, where I have been,
and what I heard, and why I was inspired,
because I chose to stop and listen.

Everyone and every thing has a story.
Every life, every love, every heart-break,
every inspirational, magic moment is a song, a musical,
a novel, a poem, a piece of art,
waiting in the wings to be released.
Every person, every leaf, every animal, every coffee bean,
every planet, every cloud, every fish, every grain of sand,
is on a journey, and that shared journey is a journey
of growth, motivation, reflection, impression, disconnection,
reconnection, intuition, in infinite ways,
and with infinite gifts of communication.

image

Photobucket

Archives

Twitter Updates

Error: Twitter did not respond. Please wait a few minutes and refresh this page.

Poetographic

<span>%d</span> bloggers like this: