My Poem “A place and a time”

A photographer capturing an artist,
capturing a place, capturing a moment of time…
A poet inspired by an artist,
inspired by the muse of life,
capturing the instant of a lifetime…
A gift shared, feelings painted,
high above and in view
of a carousel that you might expect to find
at a fun-fair,
an artist uses all the colours
of his heart and soul to imprint upon their canvas
a picture perfect miracle of creativity…
A place has an unique voice
that sometimes speaks to an artist…
An artist interprets and is inspired
by an experience and a moment
in ways that vary from person to person…
Sometimes a painting paints itself,
sometimes a poem writes itself,
sometimes a moment captures itself
and becomes a part of someone’s heart
and changes their life…
A moment can come and go in a flash –
however that is the most beautiful thing about life:
that it is finite…
and if you ask me and many others like me,
I and they would tell you that
every moment craves and calls out to be captured –
because every moment of time is a place,
and every place captured
is an infinite moment of time.

My Poem ‘Epilogue’

Just as the sun must set,
so too must the last chapter of a story be written and told;
just as you might look back on your life
and remember things that you would much rather forget,
so too must you never forget that things happen
as they were always meant to happen,
and nothing that feels timeless can ever be old.

You never want a journey to end,
especially when you have been having the time of your life;
you never want to reach the end of a book,
because then you know all about the story within, its conclusion,
and even if you do read it again it will never be the same;
you never want to fall asleep,
especially if your life feels so amazing and dreamlike –
because you don’t want to wake up
and perhaps find out that your world
has just been a fantastic, idyllic, paradise;
you never want to put memories of places
and people to the back of your mind –
me, personally, I would rather have a moving picture gallery
of the good times in my life all around me,
and each one mounted beautifully in a gold frame.

Like most people,
I have known the very best of times,
I have known the very worst of times –
and usually both extremes of the other
within a short space of time;
like most people,
I have made the best of everything that I could –
especially when the road ahead, and my head,
felt like they were a winter field of dense fog;
like most people, I am a poet of his time –
however, what makes me who I am
will always be something that is hard to define;
unlike most people, at the start of every new day,
I write a brand new introduction
to introduce myself to the rest of the world;
and at the end of every day and brand new night,
I dream a dream that completely captures
and reflects my entire life –
like a mirror, or like a song –
in a brand new and beautifully written epilogue.