My Poem “Nice”

It's nice when the sun is shining...
it's nice when people are able
to be free, instead of hiding...
it's nice when nature calls
and people answer...
it's nice when the air
is filled with golden light,
when children can be seen
and heard enjoying the gift
of their innocence and you can feel
the palpable joy in every wave
of every echo of laughter.

It's nice to be able to just sit and listen...
it's nice to be able to just close your eyes
and experience your thoughts
drift away like a gentle breeze...
it's nice to be able to just do "nothing"
while at the same time doing
something profoundly rejuvenating...
it's nice to be able to have no expectations
upon you so that you can focus
on the constant stream of energy
from your soul within that so often
we feel as if we have to filter the flow of,
because sometimes dreams feel like memories -
however, dreams are even more powerful
and integral than we might think,
because even though we often do not
always remember what we experience
while we are sleeping, the amount
of processing of our daily thoughts
that we do and the importance that
that process not be disrupted
in any way cannot be estimated.

It's nice, sometimes, to not know
the conclusion of something...
it's nice, sometimes, to invest your time
in something that is only
temporary and fleeting...
it's nice, sometimes, to be a rebel
and to follow your instincts -
and sometimes it is nice
to be cautious and to listen
to the valuable wisdom
of somebody's advice...
sometimes it is good to free yourself
of any preconceptions, any pessimism,
any pressure that you may
have been putting on yourself -
and sometimes the simplest act
of making a connection by not even trying
to do so is the best and the most nice.

My Poem “Park People”

Parks are wonderful places...
Parks are beautiful oases...
Parks are where people run
and walk through...
Parks are can be islands of every size
where people sit, exercise, get a sun tan,
have a party, or have a picnic,
and where people who know each
can all gather together to enjoy
their own company as well as
consume thirst quenching beverages
and some of their favourite food.

Parks are also the places where
those who are homeless go to every
night to lay down upon the grass and sleep...
Parks are where people young and old
can rejuvenate themselves and be reminded
of memories and experiences
that they will always want to keep...
Parks can have amusements,
rides, sights and sounds that
cannot be found anywhere else on Earth...
Parks can be where things are lost
as well as where things can be found -
and Parks can also be at both the beginning
as well as at the end of a particular search.

Parks often have benches...
Parks often have plants and animals
that people can make a connection with
with all five of their senses...
Parks are where some people
want to be laid to rest after they die...
Parks all have paths that allow
the people who visit them to navigate
through to them from every side...
Parks are for everything and for everybody
and the importance of their preservation
to all life on Earth is unestimable -
but there are those who may not be able
to enjoy nature as much as they would hope,
and then their are those who
take every opportunity, whenever they can,
to embrace every moment that they
get to embody what it means
and to be someone who might
affectionately describe themselves,
or might perhaps be described as being,
one of the many "Park People".

My Poem “The Way of the Artist”

Everything changes...
everything evolves...
everybody doing every thing
has their own process...
new things have naturally arisen
over time to replace other things
and other ways of doing things;
however, some things never change -
and one of the things that will never change
is the way that artists are inspired,
the way that artists seek out
new sources of stimulation,
the way that artists wake up
every morning and want to create art,
the way that artists cannot settle down
to sleep without first either thinking
about or doing something about
the nugget of an idea within them.

There is something inherently human
about art and about attempting to capture
the sometimes incomparable,
about the need to express our inner most
thoughts, feelings, emotions, dreams,
hopes, fears, and our natural insecurities...
there is something primal about
the experience of having this overriding
instinct that we feel compelled to act upon...
there is something almost genetic
about how people young and old
seem to have the same unconscious ability
to be able to go to the same places
that other people are unable to,
because there exists this continuity
of connection that crosses generations
like some kind of universal melody.

All my life I have created art,
I have witnessed art being created,
and I have come to recognize
the look in a fellow artist's eyes
when they are deep within that moment
when the inspiration and the art
within them are in full-flow,
as if it were a sixth sense of mine
that I have slowly but surely
developed over time...
all my life I have looked at
the natural beauty of the world
rise like waves upon an ocean
and literally change the geography
of a well known place or monument...
all my life I have witnessed
something come from something -
and I have come to believe
that "nothing" is in fact a type of
"something" that we have not yet
given a name to, because certain things
are like energy and no matter what
they will always exist.

Looking for an answer to a question
that may have been asked for centuries
and expecting to find what has not occurred
to anyone else before, at least to me,
is not in any way a sign of madness -
in fact, I believe the art of being inquisitive
and never asking the question
"why create art in the first place?"
and just feeling this need to create
some kind of art is the most powerful gift
and the most fulfilling way of every artist.

My Poem “Over too soon”





One of the most beautiful
and truly breathtaking sights
that we mere mortals get to see
is the last glimpse of daylight
when the sun slowly disappears
below the horizon at sunset,
when day becomes night;
and to me, for some reason, a sunset
sometimes has even more of an impact
upon me than witnessing a sunrise -
because, for so many reasons,
seeing the sun set reminds us all
of how precious time is, how short life is,
and how one day we will all see a last day
when we will all close our eyes for the last time
and day will forever become an eternal night.

Sunsets happen too early for some people -
however, everybody has at least once in their life
enjoyed the experience of sitting,
or standing, like a statue or a monument,
as the last rays of the sole star
at the centre of our solar system
touches us and allows our shadow self
to be caste upon the ground behind us...
there is no more astounding moment
like sitting upon the infinite grains of sand
of a beach as the bright sunlight retreats
to its source, as the temperature drops,
as the air grows cold, and as the song
of the sun is replaced by the crashing chorus
of the waves of the sea, as the ocean tide
recreates the shoreline, as above the clouds
the stars of the cosmos sprinkle down
a healthy dose of stardust to inspire
the dreams of countless.

Sunrises remind us all of new life...
sunsets remind us all of how far
we have all come and what we have done -
and, in my experience, there is no more perfect time
to sit and reflect upon life and our place in nature
than on a summer's evening in June...
sunrises remind us all of how
amazing it is to be alive...
sunsets remind us all that sometimes
when something is over it is over
though an echo of what was 
might in some form remain -
however, I am sure that we can all agree
that the journey of some things
and the journey of some people
are sometimes over way too soon.

My Poem “The Best That They Can Be”

How do you restart an engine?
How do you reawaken the spark within?
How do you remember who you are,
who you were, and how you used to do
what you used to do after so long of
living in a state of limbo?
How do you find your place once again
somewhere, doing something, around people
who you haven't seen for a long time?
In my experience the only way forwards
is perseverance, patience,
repetition, and adaptation -
until the moment arrives when you regain
a sense of momentum that gives you
some much needed drive.

When we have time on our hands
and we are able to do what we want,
with who we want, most people
tend to not want to dwell upon
anything associated with work;
however, there are those people
who like to take their profession
home with them and they even enjoy
"talking shop" with anybody
who will listen to them...
when we find ourselves with
too much time on our hands
sometimes people can start to think about,
and even dream about, being at work -
even those people who claim
that if they didn't have to work they wouldn't.

Some people can't wait to retire
from the moment that they start
their first day earning an income...
some people can't wait to go home
from the moment that they "clock in"
at their place of employment...
some people wish that they
could turn their passion project
or their hobby into something
that can sustain them both creatively
as well as financially...
some people get up every day
and go to work ready to face anything
that comes their way and they are willing
to do whatever they have to do
in order to be the best that they can be.

My Poem “Embraced”

Everybody wants to live in hope
when they are awake...
everybody wants to dream
of infinite possibilities when they asleep...
everybody sees things that for some reason
they instantly take to their heart and love...
everybody - whether they remember or not -
experiences internal moments of freedom
during which they may have imagined
that they had the gift to be able to fly,
or perhaps talk to someone living or dead -
someone who they may know, or someone
who they may have always wanted to meet.

Everybody is sometimes their own worst critic...
everybody, most of the time,
wants themselves to be a winner...
everybody has something that they
are meant to receive and to give...
everyday everybody comes up with multiple ideas,
but to be able self-actualize an idea
and see it jump from someone's mind onto a page,
and then perhaps become tangible
and seemingly "more real",
sometimes creators need to risk a part of themselves
if they truly want to see their dreams delivered.

Everybody will succeed, and everybody will fail...
everybody will find themselves throughout
their life in need of something or someone,
and everybody will sometimes find themselves
inextricably walking in circles and figuratively
chasing their own tails...
everybody has to eat... everybody has to drink...
everybody has to breathe... everybody has to sleep...
everybody sometimes has to be the chaser
and everybody sometimes has to be the chased...
everybody sometimes has to be the embracer
and sometimes everybody needs to be the embraced.

My Poem “Let it out”

It always feels good to reconnect...
it always feels good to go back
to somewhere you haven't been in a while...
it is always good to see people who you
have always felt a connection with...
it always feels good to do something
you haven't done for a while,
but from the moment that you
start doing something again,
or from the moment that you
see someone again,
it feels like no time has passed -
because almost immediately
your muscle memory starts to kick in
and deeply ingrained instincts begin to rise
to the surface of your mind palpably fast.

It always feels good to pick up
and read a book that you haven't
read since you were a child
and instantly notice certain details
about certain characters that you
might have previously missed -
and, because of the intervening time,
it is as if the way that you once imagined
people to appear in your minds eye
has changed and evolved just as we all change
throughout the many chapter of our life...
it always feels good to hear a song
that will always define an important
moment in your life that ever time you hear it
has the power to be able to transport you
back in time to when and to where
you felt affected by it for the first time.

It always feels good to start
a new adventure that you immediately know
will be filled with experiences
that will shape you, will mould you,
and ultimately caste you in such
a fundamental way that going forwards
nothing will ever be the same...
it always feels good to open your mind...
it always feels good to let your thoughts
and your ideas speak for themselves...
it always feels good to find others like us
so that we do not feel like we are alone...
it always feels good to not have to worry
and to feel free to let whatever
is inside of us all out.

My Poem “The Burning Bulb”

This is what I remember...
this is how it used to be...
this is what I and many others
like me have been unable
to do for almost a year...
this is how I have spent
so many mornings as a writer, as a poet,
and as an observer of human nature:
sitting in my favourite café,
as the bells of a nearby clock ring out,
and feel like I am where and when
I need to be to take out my notebook
and write some new poetry.

It hasn't been the same experience,
it hasn't been the same magic -
even though I have not stopped
writing, nor creating new things,
over the last twelve months
I, like everybody, has had to adapt to living
in a world divided in so many ways...
even though I have not been
lacking in ideas, inspiration, drive,
nor passion to let my poetic side express itself -
now that I am back, sitting inside
and enjoying the ambience and the atmosphere
around me that I know so well,
which for years has fuelled my creativity,
I honestly feel as if I am able to spread
the wings of my intrinsically
poetic and artistic spirit.

I have learned over the years
to embrace every moment,
because things can very easily
be put on pause, beyond our control,
or can even be brought to an abrupt end -
which is why I often dwell upon memories
of where I have been, of what I have seen
and of what I have felt throughout my life...
I am someone who has always looked
to the distant horizon and to the future -
but when anybody goes through
a period of being within something,
or away from someone who matters to them,
everybody undoubtedly feels
this need to somehow go back,
to recapture and to relive all that to them
for so long has always felt like
a constant burning bulb of energizing
inspiration, light, and hope.

My Poem “Hug” 🫂

For too long now
so many people have been
deprived of many vital things:
work, travel, entertainment,
and most importantly physical
interactions with friends and family -
but now we have all been given
the permission to engage in
"cautionary hugs";
if there could ever be such a thing?
Never the less, it is now permissable
for people to embrace their love ones
in close quarters and show physical
affection for someone openly
for all the world to see...
even though the virus plaguing
the world continues to rage
in variations across the planet,
some of us are now able to meet up
and talk with someone, inside somewhere,
in ways that for so long have felt
like distant memories or the stuff of dreams.

It's has been so long now since people
were able to kiss, hug, and be with
people who they know so well,
and it has been so long since people
have been able to interact with
someone of significance, face to face,
that it will undoubtedly be hard
for some people at first to revert
back to how people used act
without thinking with one another...
some people might be more than
a little reticent to eat inside a restaurant,
or to sit in close proximity to someone
who they do not personally know -
because they may have lost the meaning
and the importance at the heart of
why people want and need to have
close associations with other people
for the benefit of their own mental health.

I realize that everybody has their own
individual process when attempting to
adapt to rapid differences in circumstance -
and we all know how hard it was when we
were first told that we had to stay apart,
that we had keep our distance,
and that we had to protect ourselves from
what we might be unwittingly exposed to;
but there comes a time when enough is enough -
and to me, as long as the world
proceeds with caution down this
long and winding road back to normality,
and as long as people continue to volunteer
to do their part and be vaccinated
for the good of the many,
then why not give people to right
to have something and to give something
meaningful to someone else as simple,
and as a much needed and long overdue,
as a hug.

My Poem “Screenshot”

Life is a livestream without a pause button...
when something happens we can't commit
every detail of every moment to memory...
life sometimes feels like it is
in a state of fast-forward...
when someone scrolls through
the posts of someone else who appears
to be living the life that they have always
wanted sometimes people can feel envy -
however life is filled with more depth
of perspective and colour
than any resolution of screen
could ever display perfectly...
when a photograph is taken
a thousand words could be used to describe
what the two dimensions apparently show -
but to go beyond a static image
and dive into what preceeded it
and what came after it
you have to look to what appears
in the background that may not be
as easy to see, but take it from me
it is there that you will see a picture's true poetry...
there is no way yet to recall
what the first face that we saw
after we were born was,
nor is there yet a way to know
what the first sound that we heard was,
nor who the first voice that
we heard belonged to;
but, make no mistake, our entire life
of experiences are all saved within our brains -
the good, the bad, the tragic, and the funny -
and if at the end of everything
each of us do indeed see our entire life
flash before our eyes so fast
that every moment merges together
into a burst of bright light,
be sure to try and do what
people do every day when they see
something on their phone
that they think is worth capturing:
remember what you can, while you can,
and if necessary take a screenshot.