My Poem “Waypoint”

Once a year
we all find ourselves here –
here, at the end of one year
and at the beginning of another –
where and when a transition occurs
within the blink of an eye,
as colorful explosions light up the sky
all around the world,
as people celebrate the start
of a new time in their lives…
the sun rises, the sun sets –
just as it has done countless times before –
however, just as the year changes
so does the world ever so slightly…
the stars still sparkle the same
at night as they’ve always done –
however, far away in the vastness of space,
past, present, and future intersect,
and new doors open between two sides…
music plays constantly throughout the cosmos
that when heard by those able to hear it
inspires poetry, art, scientific discovery,
wonder, and dreams that will paint
the landscape of what is to come
with echoes of colour of what came before…
there is no limit to where anyone can go
when they discover what is possible…
there is no end to what knowledge
can be attained when you open your mind
to a new world you never even knew existed…
there is a truth to be found
about the nature of the universe
by looking at the delicate petals
and inhaling the breathtaking perfume of a rose…
there is no knowing what awaits any of us
when we decide upon the path we choose to take
when we reach a waypoint in our life-long journey
when we find ourselves at a crossroads.

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My Poem ‘The Burning Man’

What symbolizes life more than a candle?
What symbolizes a person’s soul more than a flame?
What symbolizes that which is precious
but that which is also hard to handle?
What symbolizes that which no one,
no matter how powerful they are, can tame?

Fire. Burning. Creation, and destruction.
The end, as well as the beginning of something new.
Just as a fire will continue to rage
as long as it has fuel –
an artist… a reveler… a person inspired
and who embraces life’s limitless opportunities
to express themselves see powerful images,
like that of a “burning man” –
as if they are also gasoline
to the spark that resides
within their mind and in their heart;
just like a band of many, performing as-one,
a harmony and a synchronicity of destiny
binds everybody together –
so much so that they create
their own gravitational-pull.

In the heat of a desert…
in the dry air of a forest…
in the most desperately-remote places on Earth…
within the beat of a person’s heart
crescendoing in their chest…
sometimes a seemingly-spontaneous wildfire
can spark into life…
sometimes amazing things can happen
when the conditions are “just-right”…
sometimes the gift and the act of free-will
can give rise to an instinctive
visceral expression of natural art.

Life is a shared-experience…
some people’s life, light, flame, and fire,
burns brighter and for longer –
but everybody who lives any life at-all
burns with a purpose…
everybody is a stranger to each-other
until they introduce themselves to one-another…
everybody is on a mission of self-discovery –
but the most important thing
to look back upon your life
and be proud of is all the times
when you walked together with someone
in mutual-participation and cooperation,
guided by a feeling and without a firm-plan;
there have been many examples throughout human history
of what happens when you bring together
people and nature and you let them be
and you let them burn and commune
for a short time with one-another,
and there is no better festival of life
that takes place every year
that is a symbol of the constant burning spirit
of a person’s spirit more so than ‘Burning Man’.

My Poem ‘The Green Lantern’

I don’t know what it is about Irish music,
but whenever and wherever I hear it
it makes my heart beat
with the rhythm of an Irish drum;
I don’t know what it is about the thought of Ireland,
but whenever I think of it
it shines for me – like an emerald city just over the water –
and lots of magical and wonderful things
spring up, like a vast green field filled with Shamrocks;
I don’t know what it is about the look
and the taste of Irish Guinness
that makes me think of something deep, dark –
like a treat to the senses
as the thought of outer-space,
and the kingdom of the universe’s infinite stars.

From space, the Earth shines like a blue marble –
however, when you actually stand on Earth and look around you,
the most predominant and the most resonating colour
that you see, is the colour that always makes me think
of the island of Ireland, and the “luck of the Irish”,
and that is the beautiful colour of green;
life is filled with music and colour,
and at all times of the day
the natural wonders of Earth
can be a phenomenal marvel;
every day, especially on St. Patrick’s Day,
there is just something in the air, sometimes –
when you can look around you,
and you actually see and feel the world entrance you
with its abundance of spectacle –
and, like a shining-green hummingbird,
gleam like you have never seen.

I don’t know what it is about the Irish accent,
but to my ears it sings and has a melody
like that of an Irish flute;
I don’t know why,
but every time I watch an Irish dance being performed –
like Riverdance, for example –
I feel compelled to get up on my feet,
and move like I have never moved;
I don’t know what it is about the sayings,
and the stories that have their roots
set firmly into the land that tells tales
of Giants, mythical beings,
and the power to make real anything
that you could possibly believe;
I don’t know what it is,
but if I lived in Ireland,
and if I were an Irishman,
I would never want to leave.

Today is a day when anything and everything Irish
is being celebrated everywhere that I look;
today is the day when all the lights that I see
are green, and everyone can feel Irish –
no matter where they were born,
or where they come from;
today is the day when everybody can indulge,
and feel a wave of merriment
with the smallest sip of the taste
of inspiration intoxication;
today is the day to let yourself feel free
in lots of ways, and dance and sing
to the beat that you hear;
today, among other wonderful
and magical things associated with today,
everything about today
always makes my heart beat fast –
because, to me, today is the day of the drum,
and the day of the light of the green lantern.

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My Poem ‘My Space’

Some people find it hard to find their place;
some people thrive and are their most happy
when they are in their own space;
some people need total quiet to concentrate
and to work efficiently;
some people can work anywhere,
no matter the noise they are surrounded by –
some writers and artists like creating
in the sanctuary of their office or studio,
while others can easily write a thousand words
while sitting at a table in the middle of a busy cafe.

Some people feel at home on a beach;
some people feel at their best
when they are with someone somewhere that they can teach;
some people feel alive when they are behind the wheel of car;
some people feel their most comfortable
when they are sitting on their sofa watching films in the dark.

My place, my space, varies from day to day;
my face, my tastes, change as frequently as the weather;
my thoughts, my interests,can seem as if
I am choosing from an inspiration buffet;
when my stories, my worries, are the furthest thing from my mind,
the ease that which I move through the world
can seem as light, and as unbounded,
as that of the flight of a feather.

My life has been shaken up so many times,
I would almost call the answers to the questions
that I pose to myself about life
as insightful and meaningful as that of a Magic 8-ball;
my observations about the world
often feel like I am either celebrating, critiquing,
admonishing, or marveling in wonder
at the state of the human race;
instincts can sometimes feel to me
like I am talking and listening in
on a seven billion person conference call.

My natural way of being, acting,
feeling, breathing, seeing, thinking,
and the place where I find the deepest of meaning
and inspiration, is when I know that I have arrived
where I always know that this is my base,
and the infinite frontier that is my space.

My Poem ‘Gunpowder’

There is a full-moon shining;
there are a million stars above my head twinkling;
there is the unmistakable smell of distant fires;
there is another indistinguishable aroma,
taste, sensation, in the air,
that invigorates me-
races the blood in my veins,
enlarges my heart, expands my lungs-
and that is what everyone, everywhere,
on this night, here,
which was to be Guy Fawkes’ modus operandi
a long time ago, on a similar night,
on the fifth of November:
the powder that helps propel a bullet,
that which is contained and which explodes
within a firework-
the one and only, gunpowder.

The black sky is coloured with every colour;
flashes and bangs, light and sound,
enthrall, surprise, awe-inspire, constantly
with little-to-no pause, in rapid-frequency.
Adults look up, children grin with excitement-
everyone wants to be outside, even in the cold,
so that they can feel the rush of being awestruck,
and so that they can remember, experience,
and know what is important.

A brilliant expression of celebration;
a phenomenal invention that has changed the world,
more than anything anyone may be able to mention;
a visceral spectacle that you can see and hear
that does not come much louder-
the explosive mixture at the other end of a fuse
that sends rockets into the sky,
and hearts and imaginations souring into the great unknown;
a magical dust that should always be handled with care;
that is in the air at this time of the year,
before, and beyond, the time of the midnight hour-
the defining chemistry, and DNA of a firework:
gunpowder.

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Remember remember the 5th of November