My Poem ‘A new leaf’

A new season brings new colours;
a new season brings new flowers;
a new forest brings new trees;
a new burst of sunlight
brings alive new leaves.

A summer’s day is filled with energy;
a summer evening is filled with sparkling stars;
a summer afternoon is filled with beautiful serenity;
a summer’s morning is filled with the most intense
and overwhelming explosion of natural light –
especially at the moment of sunrise
when the sun expels the dark.

Summer walks… summer music…
summer waterfalls… summer epics…
summer breeze… summer shades…
summer peace… summer feelings,
emotions and memories that will never fade.

Every season brings new things
into the mix of life on Earth;
every person is like a planet –
everything in the universe shares something
immutable from birth;
every time we think we have seen everything
something new always shows its face;
every moment is fleeting, precious,
and goes by so fast –
just ask an astronaut looking back at all of us
as they orbit high-above in space.

Just imagine if there was no time
to be bound to any longer…
just imagine if you no longer knew how old you were –
you would always be the same age
and never get any older…
just imagine if your time was yours
to do with what you may…
just imagine if there were no clocks,
no watches, no calendars…
then every life and every one
would live every day as if it were an endless day.

A new shirt…
a new adventure…
a new intake of something to quench your thirst…
a new sense of self-worth…
a new page… a new dream…
a new stage… a new new air to breath in,
heralded by the sight and the prospect
of a new leaf.

My Poem ‘Intro’

An entrance, an introduction,
an opening, a beginning…
where to begin is seldom an option,
what to do when you start something
is like being a knight
standing nose-to-nose
with a fire-breathing dragon…
most of the time
we enter something
in the middle of a story –
we mostly never come into something
at the very beginning,
nor at the absolute end –
however, we are always equipped
with all that we need
when we first enter into the world,
and it is only as time goes by
do we learn and pick up
the implements and the defenses
that we require to save us
from getting struck down
or devastatingly hurt.

Everybody’s life is an epic adventure.
In times gone by,
heroes heard the calling
that they had been waiting for all their lives
as if it were as distinctive and alluring
as that of the call of a song-bird.
Whether a cowboy or an outlaw
in the old-west of America,
or an astronaut on the cusp
of the final frontier,
the boundless unknown of a wild open space
holds the potential
of fulfilling a life and a dream come true
that constantly brings a smile to the face
of those who live for the spark
that dwells where the land leaves no trace.

Most people are first exposed
to other worlds through stories;
most people first feel
the touch of the divine
when the veil of heaven
falls right in front of them;
most people can only believe
what they can see;
most people are not truly
awake to the world
until they have been fully awoken.

The best of things
begin with an insatiable sound:
a beat, a melody, a voice, a keystroke –
the contact of two separate things
connecting and intertwining;
there is nothing as jaw-dropping
as seeing a lightning-storm happening
in the dark clouds above
that looks so beyond understanding
and like something that only God
could be the reason for,
because it is so breathtaking;
the first things of anything
are always the ingredients
and the building-blocks that will grow
like the snowflakes that settle
and cover a mountain-top with snow.
You may be young,
you may be old,
you may think that you know
all that there is to know –
but, believe me,
everything that has happened up to you
until now was nothing but the intro.

My Poem ‘Geronimo!’

What have you got to lose?
Don’t let the moment of a life-time pass you by;
if you have an opportunity to do something
life-changing then don’t refuse…
Take it from me,
your life can change in the blink of an eye,
so if someone gives you the means
to live your dreams
make sure that you be like Super-man,
be who you were born to be… and fly!

Everyone at some point in the life has made a choice
like that of jumping off a cliff…
everybody, everyday, lives every second
on a dream, a hope, and a wish…
everybody in their life searches for an answer
to show itself as if staring
at the scanner of a radar-dish…
everyone, everyday, loses something of value to them
and it is at those times,
even as an adult,
that we know and we relive
how we felt when we were a kid.

There is a world out there
just waiting for you
to introduce yourself to it…
there are things happening
beyond the bright-blue yonder
that eclipses anything captured
in photos on the internet…
there are people to meet who will make you smile…
there are numbers to save
that you will want to put on redial…
there are sights that will take your breath away…
there are perfect memories waiting to be made…
there are places that the world wants to show…
there are secrets that the almighty want to be known…
there is a time when you just have to close your eyes,
let go, and take a leap into the unknown
while shouting at the top of your voice:
Geronimo!

My Poem ‘Finding Your Place’

Finding your place in the world
is an adventure in-and-of itself;
finding the place
where you are meant to be
can literally be a way
for you to feel things
that you have never felt;
finding a place that feels
like a part of you,
as you do of it,
is like finding a perfect oasis –
and there is no more perfect haven
or heaven on Earth to a poet
than a place where they
can be surrounded
by their literary companions,
contemporaries, and heroes
who are as intriguing as people
as they are fascinating and fantastic
as that which they wrote.

Thrill-seekers love roller-coasters;
book-lovers love libraries;
artists love galleries;
music-lovers love stereos,
headphones, music-players,
and they love the visceral
live experience of a concert;
people without fear
love to jump without looking,
and they love to let go
and be free of gravity
and push the limits
of what is possible
as far as they can go.

I found my sanctuary
when I first fell in love with writing;
I found my inner-author
when I first collected together
my poetry and crafted my very first
anthology of the world
that I had been living and observing;
I found my spark of inspiration
when I was first touched by a divine light
that came directly from the sky
and our nearest star;
I found a new world
hidden behind an invisible veil
when I began to believe
that I had a gift of insight
that could help other people
to see things and to inspire people
to make their mark.

I have met phenomenally-gifted people in my life;
I have dreamed dreams that may keep other people
awake for days and nights;
I have walked in the shadows of giants,
and I have been carried away
by the gaze of Angels’ light;
I have broken though clouds of confusion;
I have prayed that one day
I would never have to stop
caressing the love of my life
and my muse’s beautiful face;
I have questioned life,
and I have searched the inner-
and outer- universe for answers and reasons –
however, just as I was searching
and asking to be shown my ultimate fate,
while looking up at a shooting-star
streaking through space,
where I was always meant to be
and whom I am meant to be with
were already calling to me;
and that is why I would always want
people to remember and to realize
that one day, sooner or later,
near or far-away,
as long as you keep doing
what you have been doing,
when you are supposed to
you will find your own place.

20151127_130021

My Poem ‘Mark The Pirate’

Life can sometimes feel to you
like you are on a wooden ship
sailing across the seven seas;
when the wind is at your back
and the waves beneath the hull of your boat
are crashing around you,
as you are rocked from side to side,
you can feel like you are living
the life of a pirate –
looking for a new bounty of treasure
so that you may rest easy
and to not have to worry
about anything or anybody
but your shipmates and crew.

I can imagine it all now:
me, looking to the bright blue horizon –
making my eyes shine a brighter blue
than they normally do;
the sensation of the wind and the ocean spray
whipping through my hair;
the black and white skull and crossbones
of the Jolly Roger flag being displayed
proudly over my head,
the sound of “arrr matey” and “arrr me hearties”
coming from my crew (naturally I am the ship’s captain),
with bottles and barrels of rum being drunk,
if and when possible –
and a parrot called ‘Mo’ perched on my right shoulder,
for good measure and for good luck.

What a life it would be
to live the life of a man with a plan,
with a map, with a direction and a compass
to follow and to guide our way to untold riches;
what fun I would have if I were a pirate
living in the world of the 17th or 18th century –
when the world was still thought to have an end,
and a treasure chest full of gold
was the pinnacle of all wishes.

To see the world;
to discover the wonders of the unknown;
to constantly see the sails of my fine vessel unfurled;
to call the ocean seas my infinite and perfect home;
to fight when I need to fight;
to write a Captain’s log of all of ours adventures;
to experience a life like no other during the day,
and to sing, dance, and be merry all through the night;
to live the dream;
to feel the constant rush of excitement
invigorate me and never stop the speed
of the drum-beat of my heart;
to be able to know how fast my ship was traveling
just from feeling the vibrations of the wooden
boards and beams beneath my booted feet;
to be able to cry out, laugh, joke,
and maybe even through in one or two
“yo-ho-ho’s” for good measure too…
it would be so amazing, even for a day,
to be and to live the life of a pirate.

My Poem ‘The Open Window’

I have never been able to say “no”
to an open window;
like a little white bird on a ledge,
I have never been able to fight
the feeling, the draw,
nor have I ever been able
to not take an opportunity
to fly off on an adventure –
like a child dreaming so happily
and so soundly that they are
far far away in a Neverland
of infinite imagination,
while still tucked up
at night in bed.

An open window first thing in the morning
to me is always a calling;
the view of a beautiful scene
on a hot and sunny afternoon
is as rejuvenating as a kiss;
an insight into another life
in which the possibilities are infinite
is an adventure that I never want to miss;
the white clouds of the day,
and the stars of the night,
keep me dreaming and imagining
while I am still wide awake
of epic worlds that keep me going
and thinking all day, all night,
and straight on till morning.

Windows do not stay open
for as long as doors do;
windows sometimes have to be broken through,
or more ideally climbed through;
windows can show each of us things
before we actually see them in the flesh,
so to speak;
windows… every window
are living and constantly changing and evolving
pictures of life and time
that are momentary, brief, precious, and unique.

Mirrors are reflected images,
while windows on the other hand
can let things come in as well as let things
fly free into the open air;
mirrors can only show you backwards messages,
while windows allow you to leap and go anywhere;
mirrors show only a distorted world;
windows are how children
and those with a phenomenal imagination
are able to understand what is going on
around them without having to hear
or speak a single word.

The best dreams are born
when you let every thought grow and flow;
the most inspiring stories
are inspired by searching for answers
to questions you have not yet asked
about things you did not realize
you did not already know;
just by letting everything and everyone
be connected to each other
you can invite within the light of life
and magic, and perhaps even share
something of yourself with an eternal spirit
who can at times lose their own shadow.
My favourite character of literature
would have to be Peter Pan,
and even though I may have grown older in years
I still cannot, nor will I,
ever be able to resist the temptation,
the fascination, and the flight of imagination
that I always take when I see
and when I look through an open window.

20150623_172151

My Poem ‘The White House’

In the white house where I grew up,
in the only home that I ever known,
in the place where I wrote every poem
of my first poetry book,
in the sanctuary where I have always
felt love all around me,
and have never felt as if I were on my own,
within the walls of my childhood make-believe castle,
within the rooms of the heart of our family,
within the memories captured in every family photo,
within every thing that I can still see,
I can feel anchors of time
that will always be tied to me.

In the garden where I used to play as a boy,
in the green oasis where I spent an entire summer
reading the ‘Dark Tower’ series of books by Stephen King,
in the protected and safe paradise
where my sister Clare and I used to cut the green grass,
swing on the white swing that our Dad made for us,
and where we used to pick green and red apples
straight from the branches of our apple tree,
in the hallowed ground where we used to play
outside with our toys,
in the wonderful world that was our back garden,
where I vividly remember running, smiling, and laughing,
in the open air where I remember feeling the most free.

In the house that is a part of me and my family
as we are of it,
I cannot imagine living anywhere else;
whenever I ran out of my house’s back door,
I had no idea what adventure I might be embarking on:
an expedition to a far-away land,
an underwater diving adventure,
a Formula One race while driving my Go-cart,
or an out of this world voyage
to the final frontier of space
where I might see the imagined lives
of civilizations on other planets –
and I can say with my hand on my heart,
that my childhood home was one of the most
beneficial of things that gave me
true, happy, and great health.

My room in my house
was that smallest bedroom of the three,
but the magic box room that was my bedroom
is like the core of a star,
and is where I still keep the building blocks
of what makes me Me;
my home is a reminder of the past,
of my childhood, of what is important
in the here and in the now;
my home will always be my home,
but it will also always be
more than I could ever put into words –
because on the inside
my home is a palace of many treasures,
but if you were to look at it from the outside
all that you would see would be
a simple painted white house.

My Poem ‘The Wonder City’

I don’t know if anyone
could ever say enough or all
about New York City,
“The Wonder City”,
in every respect –
to me, it is a perfect place:
a place of inspiration,
beauty, and infinite opportunity;
a place for anybody and everybody;
a place that I have not seen for a long time,
but a place I still dream about and think about,
which is constantly calling to me.

I knew New York City was important to me
the moment that I saw it,
I knew I loved New York City
from the moment I saw the skyscrapers of its skyline
through the window of the taxi;
I knew I would not be the same person
after having lived, breathed,
and become a part of New York City;
I knew I did not want to leave,
and I wanted to return as possible,
when a tear fell down my cheeks
at the thought of all the incredible memories I made
in the place that no matter what time of the day it was
was always brightly lit.

The Statue of Liberty, the Empire State Building,
the Rockefeller Center, Central Park,
the New York Subway, Fifth Avenue, Sixth Avenue –
everything I saw, everybody I met,
was beyond my imagining, and instantly I knew
that New York City was the one place on Earth
where I would feel at home living;
it is hard to describe and explain
why New York City means so much to me –
every second I was there I never took for granted,
every step I walked had deep and intense meaning,
every time I felt my heart beat hard at what I saw
made me feel so happy,
every day felt like a year;
and after walking up, I loved doing my ritual of
getting a take out coffee from Starbucks,
taking a walk around and through Central Park,
returning to my hotel room with a breakfast bagel,
and then leaving my hotel again
and going off on a new adventure
in my favourite city.

At night, when I was in my hotel room,
near Central Park, and I sat at my desk near my bed,
I dreamed, I wrote, I remembered,
I ingrained every moment of the previous day
into my DNA forever;
while walking the New York City streets in the moonlight,
I knew that I was where I was always supposed to be;
while sitting in the shadow of a statue of Christopher Columbus,
on a bench at Columbus Circle, in New York City,
I knew and I felt an incredible and energizing feeling
that felt like I was in my own version of heaven,
and a perfect paradise for anyone artistic,
creative, especially a writer.
Every minute that I was in New York City,
I knew and I understood why the best city on Earth
was also the worlds most spectacular city,
and why it was known as “The Wonder City”.

IMG_20150222_201911

My Poem ‘The Traveler’

Rising with the sun
to feel the cold morning air;
opening wide
to see the clear brand new day;
traveling like a bullet
on a train without a care,
I want to go everywhere and see everything,
and nothing can stop me or get in my way.

I have always been a traveler;
I have always been on the move;
I have always loved traveling far –
overground, underground,
or almost touching the atmosphere;
I have always rode the roller coaster of youth.

The unknown has never scared me;
outer-space has always been a draw;
where I have never been before
is where I have written my most meaningful poetry;
seeing as much of our beautiful Earth as I can
and being inspired by life is my call.

Every day is a new day;
every life is beautiful in its own way;
every time I embark on a new adventure,
I want all my senses to rocket away;
every moment that eclipses everything from before
are the moments that matter the most,
and it is within those moments that you always want to stay.

Traveling is in my blood;
pilgrimages are a daily ritual that I always entertain and enjoy;
seeing something new, and wanting to go that one step beyond,
is something I would do for a living, if I could;
methods of transportation take me to places
where my dreams can become reality.
Like a man transitioning from a boy,
and an airplane flight growing out of a life-long fascination
with flying toys.

Giving someone, especially a child,
a compass, a path, a hunger, an enthusiasm,
to get out there and to see what is out there,
is something that they will never forget,
and will always compel and never deter.
There is always a reason to be a risk taker, an adventurer –
because everyone can be a traveler.

My Poem ‘Poet’s Corner’

I am sitting here writing;
I am sitting here musing about the world;
I am sitting here enjoying a coffee-
the voices of people,
and the sounds of everyday life;
I am sitting here alone at my table;
and on the table next to me
a fellow poet is meeting up
and having a conversation
about how they just wrote a new poem,
about how beautiful the new day’s morning is,
and about things that they have seen
which they find exciting, inspiring, amazing,
and they sound just like I do in my head,
and I cannot stop smiling.

The poet sounds like they are from South Africa,
by their accent;
the poet is talking to their friend,
and they sound and they talk with so much
clarity and passion.

The poet is wearing a poppy;
the poet is not eating or drinking anything;
the poet is definitely someone after my own heart,
and obviously, to them, living, breathing,
writing, communicating, is not just a hobby;
the poet and his friend, it turns out,
have never met before,
and have only communicated over the internet,
until this moment;
the poet is describing a “great adventure”
that he has undertaken, and is still on,
and they are obviously, genuinely,
happy about the joys in their life,
and what they have gives them,
and what having a connection with people brings.

It is truly unbelievable what happens in life.
It is no accident who you may sit down next to.
It has been my experience that artists, writers,
poets, and people of deep thought passion,
and imagination, are drawn to each other
by a mutual drive;
it is the way of the universe
that people are who they are,
and the way that they are,
and there is an important reason
that people do what they do.

I watched in silence as the poet and his friend
exchanged gifts and spoke about what their presents
and their presence means to them;
I was hypnotized by their conversation,
by their story, and by everything they said;
I was enthralled, but I was sad –
because I knew that I would probably
never see or hear these amazing friend again,
but I too was thankful to them both
for coming into my life,
even if it were only for a sparing,
precious, and short time,
and the whole time that I was in their presence
I was unbelievably energized and phenomenally inspired.

There are too many coincidences and commonalities
for life to be just a string or a chain of accidental encounters,
there are too many things that matter to too many at once
for them to be unconnected,
even if they are the separate lives and stories of strangers.
There are so many places on this Earth
which attract people who share a brilliant,
beautiful, open, heart of a storyteller;
there are places like this place
that I am sitting in right now
that have a meaning and a power to them –
which I like to describe, and which I believe,
are amazing poet’s corners.