One second there was light
and the next there was darkness…
One second all was bright
and the next I couldn’t see
my hand in front of my face…
One second I was looking at
my phones illuminated screen
and the next I was using the torch
of my phone to guide my way…
One second the sun was shining
and the next it had completely
disappeared below the horizon
heralding the end of the day.
I still remember those days
and those nights when I was a child
when the power used to go out
every now and again –
but whenever it happens now
it is always a complete and utter surprise
to the degree that some people
still attempt to flick light-switches
on and off multiple times
perhaps believing that they can cause
somekind of electrical reset.
It’s strange looking out of the window
at night and seeing all the streetlights off…
it’s odd having no power, no light,
and no heat for a short amount of time –
but such an experience does make you truly appreciate how much we all
do sometimes take for granted
the gift of instant electricity,
and how much when we do not have it
at out disposal some of us feel immediately lost.
When the lights come on again,
when the TV screens flicker back to life,
and when we no longer have any further need
for the torches and the candles that we
had lit as temporary sources of light,
we all feel thankful to be able
to see clearly and to feel comfortable
once again in our world of modern enlightenment
that for a time had been taken away from us
by the inconvenience of a brief
but significant neigbourhood blackout.
On January 10, 2016, I wrote a poem called “Always the Starman” dedicated to the late great David Bowie who died on that very day in 2016 – and I can still remember where I was and what I was doing when I heard of his untimely passing, and I can still remember being immediately inspired to mark the memory of one of the most famous and celebrated music artists of the 20th Century – and two days later I published the poem that I wrote on my blog for all the world to read so that they may get a sense of just how inspirational David Bowie was and still is.
Not long after David Bowie’s death, I remember that I was writing a new short story called “The Man In Black” about this mysterious character – who I didn’t truly know the identity of, nor why they were so mysterious… all I knew at that point was that whoever they were they dressed all in black, they had mysterious and powerful gifts that enabled them to appear one minute and disappear the next, they could bring animals and perhaps people back to life, and they may or may not be some kind of angel or some other supernatural being. And something else that I knew immediately was that whoever this mysterious “man in black” was he also bore an uncanny resemblance to the late great David Bowie, as some sort of tribute to him. But that was it. I originally intended to include my short story “The Man in Black” in my 2016 short story collection “Too Close To The Sun”, however for some reason I held it back… and to this day I still do not know why, what, or who stopped me from doing so – but I am so glad that they did, because from that first story there followed others that featured the same “Man in Black” who at times was known to white also depending upon when you met him. And slowly but surely I wrote more and more, until I finally found myself with seven short stories that explored who the “Man in Black/Man in White” was and why he did what he did. And to this day the stories of my short story collection “Playing God” still remain close to my heart, because within them are characters who I know and who I recognise: characters in need of being saved by a hero, a friend, a rebel, an angel, a god dressed all in black, and sometimes dressed all in white – someone who we would all wish would pay us a visit and heal the world of the present from what we are currently being plagued by.
I wrote my original poem “Always the Starman” and “The Man in Black”, the first story of my book “Playing God”, as a personal tribute to David Bowie – but the more stories that I wrote about this mysterious man who looked and sounded just like David Bowie, I also found myself uncovering many different sources of inspiration – from ancient Greek mythology to the daily torments that some people have to deal with – and I also found myself learning more about why I love writing so much: that thrill of exploration and discovery that I find every time I embark upon a writing challenge that I know will take me to places that I never imagined I would ever venture to. And that is what it is so enthralling and exciting about being a writer and an author of fiction: you never know where it is going to take you.
I will always be eternally grateful to the late great David Bowie for his music, for his creativity, and for the gift of inspiration that he gave to me – which coalesced over time into becoming a book of stories written in tribute to him, but also a tribute to hope, optimism and the gift of life that we are all blessed with which we all sometimes take for granted.
Since the start of this
world-shattering pandemic
I know deep in my soul
that I have missed the sound
of a particular source of music -
a soundtrack, a beat,
a rhythm of life that can be heard,
felt, and seen within your minds eye,
whether it be morning, noon, or night:
the same pulse of inspiration
that first surged within me
at the very moment when
I knew that I was born to be a poet.
What I love about writing
and what keeps me coming back
to the blank page time and again
is the same thing that I miss
about sitting in a café
surrounded by people,
before the days of mandatory masks
and before compulsory social distancing.
The thrill of the unknown,
the magic of the instantaneous,
the order and the chaos that to me
always made sense and which I could
always easily pull into focus:
all that being an artist is all about...
you can't plan for it, you can only create it
when you feel it within you boiling away
with such ferocity that you know
it is about to explode -
which is why artists need to capture
what occurs to them before
whatever idea forms combusts into dust
and becomes as spectral as a ghost.
I yearn to go back in time...
I wish that I could return to a place
at a point in the past where and when
I truly believed every moment
would always last...
I still cannot believe that we are all
living in the world that greets my senses
and compels my thoughts
and my emotions so overwhelmingly...
I wish that I could do something,
I wish that I could write something,
I wish that I could imagine something
that might serve to transport
everybody away from our current stark reality -
perhaps to a moment of peace, joy, and love
that the world once enjoyed,
or to a time in the future when I know
the memory of our current present
will not be as potent.
I have personal places
and I have particular times
where and when I return to within
my thoughts and within my dreams
that mean the world to me
that feel so close to me that I could
reach out and grasp them:
perfect moments the like of which
everybody has, which we all would do
anything to get back to,
which we never stop missing
and which are among life's
most precious of blessings.
A new burst of sunlight enlightens my view… a new year has arrived that will herald the arrival of something that will enable the world to slowly become renewed… a new wave of possibility is beginning to drift over and upon humanity that will hopefully lead to us all once again looking to an optimistic future beyond the here and the now.
New additions to already established families all around the world are being welcomed with open arms as symbols of hope of a new generation who will be the beneficiaries of what previous generations have had to overcome, have had to adapt to, and have had to discover along the way, and a new constellation of distant beacons of light will be what everybody needs to fuel all the new ideas and the new inventions that will revolutionise how everybody will stay connected to one another as well as on another level of consciousness with who and what once was.
A new dawn is the start of new verse within the constantly evolving poem and chronological story that is life – so even though there may not have been as many fireworks set off to end one year and welcome in a brand new one this year as there might have been in years gone by there is always a reason to stay hopeful, to look up, and to believe that if everybody does their part and continues to work hard at being inspirational in their own way all will never be lost.
On Christmas evening,
as my family and I gathered together
around the hearth of our burning fire,
while enjoying some family time with one another,
I knew that after this day
nothing would ever be the same again
and we would never again
be able do this in the same way:
enjoy a Christmas meal together,
pull crackers with one another,
sit watching a favourite Christmas film of ours –
because what is going to happen next
will be unlike anything that either of us
have felt, heard, or seen before.
Every moment is unique,
every family has their own story,
every new day is a new dawn,
every time you wake up every day
we all have to reset the clock –
just as every player has to do the same
after they move a piece on a chessboard –
and adapt to whatever life has in store:
all the twists, the turns, the corners,
and the constant lessons that we
have to learn from like the constant
students of life’s school that we are.
Next year will be both the end
of one long chapter as well as
the beginning of another stage in life
that will impact so many peoples’ fate…
very soon there will be a sea change
and all predictions of the future
that have been shared will have to be remade;
however, even though I know
some things will be different,
I know now more than ever
that my family and I will always
have an unbreakable bond between us
that is unlike any other in so many
phenomenal and wonderful ways.
When you are a child there is no more magical and joyful moment of your life than around Christmas time when you get to write a letter to a man in a red suit, with a white beard, who on Christmas day will deliver all that you have been asking for for perhaps all of the previous months of the year – and with a high degree of certainty there could be no one more popular than the ever jovial Father Christmas/ Santa Claus/Saint Nicholas himself who children dream about, write to, and draw pictures of, as well as his ever present reindeer and his trusted elves.
Christmas is for everybody… Christmas is full of positivity, possibilities, and you truly start to get into the Christmas spirit as soon as you start to hang the decorations upon your newly bought, or perhaps your perennially rediscovered, Christmas tree… Christmas is a season for hope, optimism, friendship and family… Christmas is when people need other people more than anything – and the greatest gift that you can give anybody is your time, because not only is time precious but it is also free.
Christmas time can sometimes be hard – even when their isn’t a dark cloud hovering over every one in every country – and so many people do not have the opportunity to be with somebody on December the 25th, which is why everybody young and old need to remind themselves why it is important to be there for those who we are blessed to know as well as for those who may not know and who may live on their own.
Christmas time should be hopeful and without fears and tears… Christmas time should be about showing love, as well as about being happy and merry while listening to Christmas songs that have endured for years… Christmas time is a wonderful time that is capable of making anybody of any age feel as if they are a child… Christmas time is a whirlwind of emotions at the best of times, however when people are at their most in need of something and someone to believe in they can look no further than to whomever matters the most to them to give them the gift of a Christmas star to enlighten and to signal that even on the darkest of nights there is always hope.
Let us take to the road
and we’ll go for a drive…
let us take out a boat
and we’ll sail upon the waves
of an ocean all day and all night…
let us take a plane
and we’ll fly to Spain…
let us take a hot air balloon
and we’ll drift above dark clouds
full of thunder and rain…
let us take a rocket
and we’ll launch into space…
let us float above the Earth in zero-gravity
and we’ll look down at everybody
and wave as we hold one another
in an out of this world embrace…
let us fall asleep side by side
on a starship to a solar system
that has two stars within it instead of one
and before we know it we’ll be waking up
and having to convince ourselves
that what we are seeing is better than a dream…
let us make a new home for ourselves
upon the surface of an alien planet
that looks like Earth but which
from orbit looks to be more blue than green –
and after we settle down upon
this new place of possibility
we’ll look up to the stars above
through a telescope and find
Earth’s flickering blue glow
and we’ll both look at one another
and agree that even in comparison
to all the wonders of the universe
there has never been two souls
who have always been meant to be,
because our life is a constant
celebration of our celestial love.
Get your copy of my book ‘Playing God’ – featuring the Christmas story “The Man In Red” – online in paperback and as an ebook from Amazon: https://amzn.to/383gsII
Even when it is cold and wet
I like to get out of bed,
I like to get dressed,
and I like take a walk in the elements –
because just as when the weather
is fine and dry I enjoy nothing more
than being exposed to whatever
emanates unabated from the sky,
whether that is raindrops or golden sunshine…
my secret to not feeling cold,
as the wind around me whistles and howls,
is to keep going and to not stop
until I see, until I hear,
and until I feel as if
I have experienced moments
and instances that have imprinted
upon me and have left me inspired.
I live every day under the curse
of the imagination of a dreamer…
I live every day with the gift
of the eternal poet within my soul…
I live every day seeing the silver lining
around so many clouds filled
with lightning and thunder…
I live every day believing that
if we all stay upon the road
that is our sometimes up and down life
we will all one day arrive somewhere,
with something, or with someone,
that we will always want to have
and to hold and never let go of.
It can’t always be sunny…
life can’t always make sense…
the people whom we meet in life
can’t always be as sweet honey…
life can’t always be about pounds
and pence, or dollars and cents –
because what life is really all about
can only be found when you set out
and when you choose to be exposed
to the world and all of its elements.
markthepoet.me 