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As I dream at night,
when I wake up in the morning,
as I walk in the sun, and in the rain,
through forests of trees,
and along streets of light,
I hear a sound,
I feel a calling,
I decipher the chaos,
I feel on fire,
I see, read, and imagine poetry,
in every leaf, in every smile,
in every look, in every raindrop-
the energy of the world gets into my veins,
the inspiration of the universe
makes me feel like the king of the cosmos,
everybody I know and everything about them,
and all that I know, has my imagination and thoughts
jetting off faster and higher than an airplane,
and just as I am right now-
everything twists around me
and I feel like I am in the eye of a storm,
seeing and watching things that appear fractured
from the outside looking in
come together and fuse forever
like a blanket of frost.
I will never forget the moment I heard the sound;
I will never forget who inspired my voice;
I will never forget the shock-wave that I felt,
like a lightning-bolt hitting the ground;
I will never forget who I was and who I knew
I would always be- as a matter of destiny, not choice;
I will never forget what began, what came first,
and what it was like to instantly feel
like all this time I had been traveling through the heavens,
but I just hadn’t realized it;
I will never forget the moment I became the poet.
The journey has been bumpy;
the road hasn’t always been smooth;
the sky above and my vision has on occasion been cloudy;
however, I have not stood still, I have kept on the move;
I have written about love,
I have written about loss,
I even wrote a poem once about a lost glove;
and every day I write with a pen and paper,
or I create something with my soul
on the canvas of my mind, with all my heart,
and I am consumed, happy, free of fear,
alive with life and inspiration-
like I have emerged from the waves of a sea
and I am now walking in the soft sand of the wash.
When you realize that you have a gift;
when people tell you that you should pursue your talent
and see where it takes you;
when you know that you have something to offer someone
who needs what you have inside you
you can feel your own heart racing in your chest
and your pulse beating in your wrist;
when you see truth, hope, purpose, potential, and goodness,
emanating like an aura from certain people
that you are fortunate to meet,
the things and the people who give us so much
are who we too want to do all for and give back to.
The ‘Poet of the Sphere’ is who I will always be,
and the first book of my poetry
is only the first chapter, the first volume,
the first teaser, of the whole story that is me;
now, I am stepping into the future
with memories and experiences from my life,
hoping to share who I will always be in the light of the day
as well as in the twilight of the dark,
and you can be sure that when you read
or hear the voice of the Poet of the Sphere,
you will forever know, and you will forever recognize,
the unmistakable sound of Mark.
I have always thought that we should
truly listen intently to the young,
because the young, especially children,
make a point to say what is on their mind;
I have always thought that the best thing about being young
is that you do not need to worry about anything,
nor think too much, and just live,
learn, look, sample, and have fun,
be adventurous without knowing it,
look in every direction- not just forwards, or behind.
Every child sometimes forgets to look left and right
when they are crossing a road,
and sometimes than can walk away
by the skin of their teeth after a close encounter;
every child wants to be out and about with their friends-
whether it is a hot day of sun,
or a cold day of freezing snow;
every child is a not-so-secret natural explorer.
Children have no concept of time;
to a child the next day feels like a life-time away;
children have no thought of right or wrong, gift or crime;
to a child every day is like playing a game.
Every child attends a different school of thought
depending on where they live
and what they have been taught since the day they were born;
every child ultimately can only go on their own journey-
but the more a child has to choose
the more that they can feel torn;
and, to me, a child does need guidance
from those that they respect and trust,
but without too much of a push,
and letting them figure things out for themselves,
children always do find their feet.
A child from Africa can inspire the entire world
to think about others before themselves;
a group of friends from China can come together
from all different backgrounds
and dream of doing things, and going places,
and taking the rest of the world with them;
a little girl from Hawaii can hear the voice of the Earth
when they listen to the sound they find within a seashell;
a boy from Canada can one day be holding tightly
and looking down at his favourite toy,
and then one day years later in the future
take one simple thought that comes to him,
and realize that he could change the world
for every child and for all future children.
The life and the time of a child is precious,
and before you know it things get complicated,
and they can slowly start to lose their tender touch,
and they can worry about who they see in the mirror;
it is only natural to think
about why things are the way they are,
but you just have to hold on to things
for as long as you possibly can-
because before you know it
everything, slowly but surely,
falls through your fingers.
Being a big brother comes with lots of responsibilities;
being a big brother means that you have to set
and show a shining-example;
being a big brother means and comes with a promise
to always look out for your little brother or little sister-
whether they are ten years old,
or a beautiful married woman in her thirties;
being a big brother is something that you should never
take for granted if you are one,
because you can be the one person in the entire world
that your sister or brother can come to
when they are feeling down or vulnerable.
I am a big brother;
I am a little brother;
I am not the best brother;
I am a lucky brother;
I sometimes feel like my little sister’s twin-brother,
because we are so different and yet so similar;
I sometimes look and listen to my little sister Clare
and I think that she is the older, wiser,
more courageous, more fearless,
more inspirational of the two of us,
because she is a fighter,
because she is a believer and prime-example
of how being bold, colourful,
and not always being so reserved all the time
can make life much more richer.
My little sister has amazing instincts;
my little sister has a heart of gold
and an ethic to life that I love and admire;
my little sister has a voice, a spirit, a fire,
a purpose, that anybody can see and feel from a distance;
my little sister is the one person in the world
who you would always want by your side,
because she will always be the most supportive
and hard-working heart in a room, even if she is tired.
I am a lucky brother to have a little sister like Clare;
I know that to have an amazing person as your sister
like my sister has always been to me is incredibly rare;
I am always going to be here
and whenever I am needed by my little sister;
I know that I have not always been
and I am not always the perfect brother,
but their is no one more prouder than I
to be my sister Clare’s one and only big brother.
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.
When it’s 4 o’clock in the morning,
and everyone around you is still sound asleep;
when you are up and awake and already imagining,
still dreaming, thinking, creating, writing,
and you feel comfortable to open the door
to the place inside you that leads to your soul,
the place where everything you can imagine
is just waiting to be let out and allowed to run and leap;
when an idea comes to you,
when you can already hear the melody and voice
of a beautiful and exciting new piece of music;
when you feel something that seemed so small once
begin and never stop growing inside you,
the feeling, the experience, the time, you,
are heart-racing, away;
the silence, the noise, the close, the far,
feel like they are all inside you, and connected to you,
and I can tell you that when I have those moments
and I am touched by true inspiration, like I am every day,
it is absolutely breath-taking and epic.
There are times in your life
when you can’t say what you want to say,
because words simply fail you;
there are times when I say everything I want to say with one word-
I realized once that the more powerful thought and idea of anything
can be found when you seek out the far-between and the few.
Never give up on love;
never turn your back on something that means everything;
never doubt your heart,
and never even think to stop the flow of what makes you who you are;
never stop looking, never stop talking,
never stop cooking, never stop doing,
never stop believing, never stop watching;
keep being inspired, keep being inspiring,
keep being too awake to be tired, keep calm,
and do what everyone keeps telling me to do…
keep writing.
Not every couple has the luxury
of being in the same place, at the same time,
in the same room, or even in the same timezone sometimes;
not every two people who are meant to be together
can get together when they want;
not every couple can be in each others arms
and look into each other’s beautiful eyes-
but that doesn’t matter,
because they are still and will always be together
in one way or another forever,
and can talk and laugh and cry together,
and do lots of things, and share lots of things,
and even though they may not be face to face
that doesn’t mean that they can’t share things between themselves.
A message can be a god-send;
a note or a letter can be the most beautiful thing you have ever read;
a picture with the words ‘I love you’ attached to it
can fill you with joy, energy, and love,
of which there is no end;
a phone-call, the sound of the voice of the one you love
echoing in your ear, no matter what they say,
can be to you the most amazing and beautiful thing anyone ever said.
Connections are precious;
a ringtone can sound like a heart beating;
thought means so much;
a particular voice can be healing.
A well-timed call can be life-saving;
a fateful call can be life-changing;
a single sentence of connected words
spoken in a particular way
can open up infinite possibilities;
someone’s laugh can sound like the melody to a song-
no matter if that voice has said a billion words in their lifetime,
or the voice of that of someone with a limited vocabulary in their twenties.
The great thing about the miraculous technology of the 21st Century
is that it has brought people who live vast distances apart
within touching distance of each other,
and it has connected lives and spirits,
and forged new and lasting relationships.
and love for life,
for so many people who may never have met otherwise;
technology is a stepping-stone to the future,
and it is one of the most valuable tools and gifts
of creating, making, and sustaining, unbreakable ties.
A phone-call from someone can be an invitation;
a phone-call in the morning or late at night
can bring you back home;
a phone-call that you were not expecting can be a revelation;
a phone-call can be enough for a while,
but then there comes a time
when all you want to do is find a way
to come through the phone.
Early in the morning,
as the stars shine at night,
love makes my heart sing,
music fills my life;
when I wake up and the rain is pouring,
as I drift off to sleep,
a song, a voice, a melody,
takes me to my dreams and set alight
my deep thoughts like a fire.
My dreams are epic,
my dreams are sometimes dark-
but they are more often than not
overwhelmingly insightful and bright.
My dreams have things in them that have significance
and hidden meaning-
whether it is the sight of a typewriter,
or the echo of a clocks tick,
or the sight of someone taking a photograph of me
as I am taking a picture of them-
it always amazes me what my own subconscious conjures up
during the day in the heat of the sun,
or at night when the moon is reflecting light back at the Earth
and at all of us and influencing our thoughts and fortunes.
We all go to bed with thoughts, feelings,
and inflections of the day before that is slowly drifting away,
and its events will soon have gone by and be no more
than a shadow, when all is said and done;
we all wake up the next day feeling different,
but with certain splinters in our mind
still playing on our thoughts
that we can’t rid ourselves of or shake easily-
some of us get up and try to start their day
and free ourselves of any lingering worries or concerns
with a daily morning run,
some of us sit up in bed and listen to music,
watch TV, read a book, write poetry,
someone of us take hold of our favourite instrument
and play to our hearts content,
some of us just sit and cry on our own,
just so we can vent.
Talking is important;
connections are essential;
letting out and letting go
can be like the cool water from a font;
remembering the people you love,
and where you want to be,
because they are to you the most wonderful and the most special,
needs to be, must be, will always be-
and that is why you must run, walk, look, see,
the magic all around in the daylight;
that is why you must run into the ocean of the unknown;
that is why you need to touch and feel a part of the light;
that is why you must be fearless, bold, and brave,
and let the world and everything in it fill your life.
The sound of a spanish guitar being played
wonderfully and exquisitely by its player
echoes around the circular chamber
at the centre of the Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery,
and everybody standing, sitting, looking, is enraptured,
surrounded by magnificent and beautiful paintings and artwork,
and all before a statue by Jacob Epstein sculpted
to represent the archangel Lucifer “the bringer of Light”
from John Miltons epic poem ‘Paradise Lost’,
and the resonance and the music that fills the crowded space
noticeably lifts everyone off their seat and off their feet,
and I can tell that I am not the only one who feels like
they are in another world, and we all are feeling this sensation
of being cleansed in some way-
just like that feeling we all have
after we have splashed our faces with water
just after we wake up in the morning
and the first thing we all do when we wash.
I feel like a deep-sea diver, at the bottom of an ocean,
in a magical underwater realm,
and I feel like I can actually see the beautiful
and wonderful sound waves being created
and travelling through the air and touching everyone squarely in the chest;
as as if in slow-motion, I see the moment in everyone’s eyes
when the power of the music hits them and they feel it
at the same time that they hear it,
and I watch them be drawn in and be enraptured
and be lifted in so many ways.
There were points during the performance
in which I clearly remember what I was thinking
and who I was thinking about-
during the faster guitar playing, for example,
‘The Spanish Dance’, I could actually feel my heart racing and beating fast,
while during the slower songs I remember having flashbacks
and recollections of fallen and lost friends
who I will never see again.
Unfortuntely, I cannot remember all of the names
of the beautiful guitar pieces-
they all had an interesting italian- or spanish-sounding name-
but they were all amazing, and I honestly felt so
privileged to be there to hear them being played
to me and a captive audience,
and I can honestly say that being lucky enough to be there
was a true right-place, right-time, moment,
and it was a magical experience in which all that there
felt like there was in the time that the music was being played,
and we who were hearing it were all that existed,
as well ad our own individual memories and shared emotions,
and everything that we all brought with us to that echo chamber
of a room, which was filled all the way up to the glass dome above
with divine sound and necessary silence.
When the players were not playing
you could hear everything- a foot-step, a pin-drop, a heart-beat,
the vibration of a still vibrating guitar string.
Sound is special. Music is unparalleled.
The voices of people and man-made instruments
of all types, shapes, and sounds, fascinate me.
Sound is something we feel deeply.
Music is like a constantly ringing bell.
The voice of an instrument would not be the same
without the unique voice, gift, and life of it’s player,
and there is nothing else like living, hearing,
and feeling, the most beautiful string poetry.
The lonely word.
The lonely heart.
The lonely world.
The lonely art.
The lonely voice.
The lonely face.
The lonely choice.
The lonely race.
You can sometimes think you are walking alone
even when you are in a crowd;
you can sometimes feel you are hearing nothing
even when the world sounds so loud;
you can sometimes see the world distorted;
you can sometimes hear the distant call
of someone who you may not have seen for a long time,
who is nowhere even near you at that exact time-
like the voice of a ghost,
but even though you can’t see that person
you have no doubt as to its origin,
and you will swear on your life
that you heard the person that you heard say what they said
in the way and in the voice that they said it.
The lonely soul just wants a mate.
The lonely journey is always more bareable
when you have got someone to travel it with.
The lonely note just wants to be played
until it becomes a source and a beacon of hope.
The lonely time can be when you are on a break.
The lonely place can be when and where you feel
like you have nowhere to be and nowhere to live.
The lonely mark can be the brightest and the most wonderful
and wise question and answer that can help you to cope.
Sometimes when you feel the most lonely,
you are the most surrounded by friends, energy,
affection, and love;
sometimes when you feel like you need somebody so badly,
you already and always have them with you-
because they are like the stars that are always there
twinkling in the dark heavens above.
Sometimes when you feel like you are being infected by something,
you are actually being cured;
sometimes the most inspiring and breathtaking thing in the world
can make you feel something incredible,
but can also be the loneliest of words.
Your signal is always the strongest;
your picture always comes through clear;
your frequency is always what I am in-tune with;
your content is always new-
but I would watch you, and I do watch you every day,
on repeat.
Your look is fantastic as it is
and never needs to be refreshed;
your ideas and dreams are the characters of a drama
with whom I imagine myself interacting with,
and in a world I would love to live in;
your taste is sublime,
and like a great meal,
every course of you is a feast.
You show me so much every day,
I simply have to look at you and I am already off
on an adventure in my mind;
you tell me and teach me something every day-
a mere glance in your direction is like staring
at an intense explosion of light,
who and which to someone else would be powerful enough
to send them blind.
I am addicted to you, and I have been for a while.
I would choose to be the moderator of your fan club,
and I would proudly wear a t-shirt with my love for you on it
and never hide away or live in denial.
I take notice and I record everything you broadcast;
I think about you even when you are right in front of me,
and the time when I can’t, nor anyone,
can take my attention away from you goes by
and makes my heart beat so fast.
When you fill my screen and talk directly to me,
and no one else, in true and vibrant colour
and in infinite and ultra-definition;
when you blur away the rest of the world
and suck me in, every episode of you
always brings me to the conclusion
that you are the most important gift in my life,
of that there could never be any confusion.
Your voice carries farther than radio;
your message is more hypnotic than television;
your name and your face is what I see repeated everywhere I go;
your energy is like that of the explosion
that is ignited to launch and propel a spacecraft
on a long and deep-space mission.
You are someone I could never just turn on
and not watch every second of,
and just leave to be, like moving wallpaper-
because you are like a window to so much
and so many wonders;
of all the magical sights in this world that I have seen,
you are and you will always be my favourite view.
You are my favourite station of destination
that I never want to leave,
and you can rest assured that any and every time
I want to scan and be in-tune with anyone,
I will always choose to be watching and in-awe
of Channel U.
The Life, the Light, the Tears, of the Poet of the Sphere 