Month: January 2016

My Poem ‘The Hummingbird House’

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Standing in a room
surrounded in every direction
by flying hummingbirds;
the childhood dream
of a little girl walking
through a vast field of yellow daises
beneath a cloudless bright-blue sky;
standing on a green hilltop
looking down at your home below;
the adventure of a not-yet
grown up boy’s life-time,
and a return to a place
that he knows so well
it is almost as indelibly under his skin
it could almost be a tattoo;
on a cold winter’s day
the light shines differently
than it does at the same time of day
during the summer;
people change just as much as the seasons do;
a simple act of kindness can be something
that some people hold on to for luck
like a four-leafed clover;
when you become intoxicated by a moment
time goes wonderfully slow.

Dreams are our life’s internal movie-theatre;
our dreams are like the software
that runs the most powerful super-computer;
emotions are our way of interpreting
the meaning of what we see,
what we hear, what we feel,
and what we think;
all of our memories share and are
connected to an infinite number of mutual links.

Two different people
can look up at the same cloudy sky
and see two radically different formations;
a hundred people can be in the same place
at the same time for many different reasons;
a thousand people could each give you
a thousand and one different answers
to the same question;
all of human-kind begins anew
a different cycle every time
there is the rise of a new generation.

A house made of glass tells no lies,
but at the same time is precious to the touch
because of what it is;
a rose is one of the most beautiful gifts of nature,
but it also has the means to protect itself;
to me, someone with a thousand books to read
is richer than someone with a thousand dollars to spend;
a dream that has come true for you
is also known by another name: happiness;
heaven is a story that has no end;
everybody and anybody who has ever stopped
and stood, and who has ever looked
at a beautiful sight with an open mouth,
knows intimately what it is like
to have been inside a hummingbird house.

My Poem ‘V’

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Our lives are stories
within an epic and ever-evolving,
ever-changing, ever-continuing poem
that started at the moment
that the universe began;
my own life has changed over time –
as I have grown, experienced,
thought, and felt, the world
and everybody whom I have met
has contributed into making me
who I am now at every turn;
we are more free to be who we want to be
when we are young and when we know nothing
about the need of adults to make plans;
I always knew that I had an energy
and a passion within myself –
however, it is only since I began
writing poetry and stories
that I have felt as if I were able
to allow the inspired fire
within my heart to burn.

I can still remember
the first poem I ever wrote;
I can still recall
where I was when I started
to put together the poems
and the pages and the images
of my first book;
I can still feel what it was like
when I knew that I had a gift
and that I could use words
to express my feelings
like a musician makes music
by playing notes;
I can still sit, stare,
and hold my pen and my notebook
in my hand and relive
the experience of inspirations magic touch.

Every time that I unveil
a new poetic-offspring of mine,
to me it is like seeing
the face of your own child smile
for the first time;
every time I start writing
and the words flow
and come fast like the water
of a raging-river,
the light and the energy
that binds everything together
starts to shimmer;
every time I am inspired
I can feel something inside of me
fighting to break free of me
and explode like a cannon;
every time of every writing
of a new poem is like witnessing
the golden light of an unending dawn.

I still have to pinch myself
to believe how lucky I am;
I still have to look in the mirror
and marvel at all that I have seen,
all that I have experienced,
and all that I remember from my life;
I still have to find a way every day
to use the power of what I know,
but that which other people
might not at first understand;
I still have to daily accept
the awesome feeling of pride that I feel
in myself at all that I have personally achieved
and done – especially when I flick through
and I re-read and remember
all the poems that I have written
that have been published in my books…
I still find it incredible to believe
that not only do I have one book
of my poetry and stories published –
but, in fact, instead of one,
as I write this, I am looking at the cover
of book number five.

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My Poem ‘Snow-where to run’

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I am not sure if it is just me,
but I’m sure that it used to be,
that more than often than not
it used to snow only at Christmas time?
I’m not sure if it is just my memory
playing tricks on me,
but I’m sure that it used to be the case
that every Christmas when I was a kid
was a white Christmas –
however, now it is as if
the seasons have shifted slightly
and the weather of December
has now moved to the months
of January and February.
As I look around the world,
and I see the photos taken
by people of where they live,
snow appears to have fallen
and countless cities around the world
are now covered in a thick blanket of white.

New York City at the moment
is a winter-wonderland;
Washington, D.C., will soon be waking up
to what fell from the sky the night before;
people who usually wake up every morning
and go out for a run around Central Park
are putting on their winter coats
and knitted hats and scarfs
and instead they are planning to go for a walk;
the Potomac River has a layer of ice over it
so thick that it may take days for it to completely thaw.

From Rossville to Nashville, Tennessee,
a world of white is all that you can see –
perfect conditions for anyone
who likes throwing snowballs,
or perhaps going down to the local store
on a pair of ski’s
all the way up 7th Avenue in New York City;
from Times Square to West 59th St.,
adults and children are walking down roads
frozen in time in every sense of the word –
cars and taxi-cabs still stand
in the same place they stood the day before.

Here in England,
we have been lucky up until now –
three years ago, at this exact time of the year,
I remember walking down lanes
in the countryside of my home
and thinking that the only thing
capable of getting from A to B
with any kind of speed
would have to be a snow-plow;
when snow falls here in the United Kingdom
the entire country almost comes to a stand-still –
the kids love it when it snows though,
because their schools close for the day
and they can run around the streets and have fun.

There are some cities
and some countries around the world
that have a temperature of -20 degrees Celsius,
and where a day without seeing a single snowflake
would be to someone who lived there
just as miraculous as walking
across the surface of the sun;
for most people when it snows
it gives them a reason to stay indoors
and turn the heating up,
catch up with family and friends,
and share their pictures and memories with the world,
and it gives them an opportunity
to look out there window
at the snow that they see
and remind themselves that
where they are is where they are meant to be
and no matter where they look
they have nowhere else to run.

My Poem ‘Psychic Arithmetic’

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We all know our own minds,
but other people see more of us
than we do;
we may spend all of our time
with ourselves,
but we do not see
all the things that we do;
we may all know our own
personal likes and dislikes,
but we may not all be familiar
with all of our routines;
we all may look in the mirror,
but it is other people
who see the face that constantly changes.

By acting on instinct
we all can sometimes
take our own actions for granted;
by repeating the same tasks for a while
we can find it hard to imagine
a life that is not already
a picture and a memory in our own head;
cycles and predictive patterns
are important to life on our planet;
everybody has their preferences:
what they like to drink?
what they like to eat?
what they like like to listen to,
and what they like to watch?
Some people just do not “feel right”
if they do not keep on their
preferred side of their own bed.

Some people just know us;
some people can just read us;
some people are just like an open book;
some people can tell the story
of who they are from a single look;
some people constantly analyze;
some people speak as well see with their eyes;
some people love us – no matter how predictable
and bound by our own insecurities,
obsessions and compulsions we are;
some people think that when they see us
we shine like a star;
some people are so incredibly psychic
that their gift can be deceptive;
some people teach us every day
that there is more to learn
about all forms of nature
just by looking, observing,
understanding and deciphering
the signs and mimicking the techniques
used by the best of those schooled
in the performance of psychic arithmetic.

My Poem ‘Interview with an inspirer’

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Across a table,
over a mug of tea
or a cup of coffee,
over the years I have sat down,
spoke and communed
with the truly inspirational –
and every ghost of everybody
who has chosen to come
and pass on their wisdom to me
lives on in the words of the verses
within the lines of my poetry.

A long time ago,
William Shakespeare himself,
with quill in hand,
taught me how to write
and how to tap into
the well of inspiration
of my own heart;
only a couple of years ago,
I was sitting in a coffee-shop,
when who do you think it was
who sat across from me?
Why it was the ghost of Vincent van Gogh –
who instilled in me
the importance of every brush-stroke
that we all make, in art and in life,
and to not be afraid to make our marks
that number as many as a sky full of stars;
the white-suited spirit of John Lennon
regularly sits down with his guitar next to me
and inspires me to imagine and to see the world
for how it should be.

Only a few days ago,
I was having a deep and meaningful conversation
with the legendary ‘Starman’ David Bowie;
Amelia Earhart wants me to remind
every man, woman, and child
to never stop overcoming the odds
and reaching for the stars;
Audrey Hepburn has stopped by
to share breakfast with me –
she teaches me every time I see her
that being happy in life is all that matters;
Agatha Christie likes to drink
a cup of hot black-coffee
when sitting down with me
and explaining the importance of a great mystery;
“don’t be afraid to let your mind run wild
when you are writing anything”
was an inspiring piece of advise given to me once
by the author of ‘Frankenstein’, Mary Shelley.

I have been visited many times
by amazing people with epic stories
to tell from and of their lives –
Robin William, RIP, comes by often
to tell me a joke and to give me
the answer to a question
that I did not even know was on my mind;
everybody who sits across from me,
or beside me, talks to me, I believe,
because I listen and because I care deeply,
and perhaps because my imagination
and my heart burns like a fire;
special people never stop having
something to tell you and pass on –
even after death the light of a person’s spirit
lives on, and I am always ready and waiting
if somebody who used to walk the Earth,
but who is now in the after-life,
wants to return to life
through words and through memories
by allowing me to talk and interview
those who will always inspirational
and an eternal inspiring inspirer.

My Poem ‘Please give generously’

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Anything is better than nothing;
time is our greatest currency;
compassion is something special
that not everybody
is instantly capable of feeling;
being there for those in need
when they need a hand to hold
and no other form of hand-out
should be the core principle
of every charity.

It isn’t until you are personally
touched by a tragedy,
or by a shock to the system,
that you start to look at the world
and realize how important
and how much another human being
can make a profound difference to your life;
it isn’t until you look for support
from someone else that you realize
there are other people out there in the world
who have at one time
been where you are
and have gone through
what you are going through;
it isn’t until you struggle
to put into words how you feel
that you realize how important it is
to have someone to wish you sweet dreams
before you fall asleep at night;
it isn’t until you accept
that you do not know every-thing
that you can have your own breakthrough.

Our loved-ones are always those
who we see and who we think about the most;
our emotions for those
who brighten our lives
are always the closest to the surface;
our memories of people we used
to know and love are our ghosts;
our time with others is precious,
and sadly there are few things
in the end that last.

In my opinion,
100% of all that is given
to a cause should make it
to the intended-recipient;
in my opinion,
the act of giving is diluted
when it becomes a means towards an end
for someone who is not directly effected by
and who knows nothing about
what it means to be someone
who feels ashamed
to ask for help from anyone;
in my opinion,
you can’t help to save a life until you see
why everybody to everyone is important;
in my opinion,
there are some people who do not realize
that if we do not all share responsibility
for the continued survival of our species
and our planet then some fights
and some struggles will never be won.

We don’t truly think about something
until it gets personal;
we don’t truly act on something
until we are effected emotionally;
we don’t truly know how hard life can be
until we are made to feel vulnerable;
we don’t truly know
how much we can contribute
to saving a life until we try –
so, whether you do it by-hand,
by using your feet,
or whether you choose
to make your mark to help others
in a way that is wholly anonymously,
give whatever you can
to someone else in need…
and, please give generously.

‘Truly Madly Deeply’ by Mark Hastings

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My Poem ‘Special Education’

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A student is only as good
as the teacher who teaches them;
a teacher’s true gift
is giving their student a reason to listen;
everyone is a student all their life;
every parent is the greatest teacher,
idol, role-model, and inspiration
of their child.

Teaching can be easy for the knowledgeable;
learning can be hard for the slow;
inspiring someone can be incredible;
understanding is like hearing a song
that you can’t stop listening to
after you hear it playing on the radio.

The best lessons are based on first-hand experience;
the greatest thing that you can give someone
is encouragement and confidence;
the best story-teller is an artist;
the greatest person you could ever know
is the one whom you both love and trust.

Learning can be addictive;
watching can be hypnotizing;
listening can be relative;
a perfect ending is that much more amazing
because it is the sum
of all the experiences
that were essential
in building that which grew
over time to mean everything.

We all need a reason to reach;
we all need a push when we all know
we need to make a jump;
we all need a strong foundation in the beginning,
and to preserve our own living identity
the up-and-coming next generation
need to know that it is not a crime
to let your imagination run free;
no matter what anyone tells you,
you know more and you can do more
than you realize,
and there has never been a question
that has ever been asked that was ever dumb.

What next? for a student is the best question;
Where now? for a teacher is like igniting
the fuel within the engine of a vessel of exploration;
Why? is capable of grabbing anyone’s attention;
With whom? can be all the difference,
and paying attention to the right person
at the right time can be the first lesson
to learn from in anyone’s version
of “special education”.

My Poem ‘The Light-years’

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The sun is the herald
of light, energy,
awakening, and growth;
somewhere in the world
and high-above
the star at the heart of our sky
shines and effects all of our lives
more than any of us
could ever possibly know;
light can be a life-inducer;
there are some places on Earth
where because the light is different
time feels almost frozen –
a single day can feel like a year.

Nothing is ever truly stationary;
the universe, the galaxy, Earth,
our world is constantly on the move;
even seemingly empty space
is always full of something –
the mystery of the darkness
the surrounds our perfect jewel of life
too is full of shining clues;
something that happens,
even if it is light-years away,
creates ripples in space and time
that will eventually be there
at the dawn of a future brand new day.

Billions of light-years away,
billions of light-years ago,
the dark space that now exists
between the stars and the planets
was one bright beautiful light;
the universe was smaller,
life was just truly beginning;
anyone and everyone could see
the constant streams of celestial energy flow;
there was only day, there was no night;
every instant was like a constant roller-coaster
of emotions of our many senses,
and you would only have to look at a star
to hear it sing.

The bigger the universe has become,
the more that time and reality
has been pulled and stretched in every direction;
the more that life has splintered
into many from one,
everything has felt as if it were
on the verge of snapping back
because of the almighty galactic tension.

The universe has become infinite,
while life on every planet
has become finite;
as everything becomes a rush,
the more that the time we have
to truly take everything in
becomes even more precious;
there will always be love;
there will always be fear;
there will always be a reminder
that we are one of many
and yet always connected every day
and every night in the sky above;
there will always be something out there
calling to us all with a voice
powerful and capable of traversing
within the blink of an eye
the distance and the time
between every light-year.

My Poem ‘Infinitely Mine’

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Hello, sunshine;
hello, muse;
hello, best friend;
hello, love of my life;
hello, you;
hello, my inspiration,
hello, my partner in crime,
hello, the other half of my soul
who keeps me standing –
as if our connected lives
were books and you and I
were each other’s bookends.

Even on a rainy day
you keep my fire burning;
even when the clouds cover the sky
you light up my life;
even as the world keeps turning
every time I see you
all reality stands still
and apart from your beautiful face
nothing else is as mesmerizing;
even from far away
I am always there when you need me
and I am always right by your side.

When I open my eyes you are there;
when I dive deep within my mind
you are my life-line;
when I gasp to stay alive
you are my air;
when I look at old photographs of us
I can see, just as anyone can,
that you and I are two of a kind.

We constantly wonder
what each of us are thinking;
I can look into your gorgeous eyes
and know instantly what you are feeling;
we are always sharing the same dreams
and reading the same signs;
I often picture where you are
and what you are doing,
even when we are on the phone
and simply talking –
and every day no matter the time
I am always telling you
that I am eternally yours,
and I hear and I feel you telling me
that you are infinitely mine.

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