My Poem “Mnemonic”

When you live in the countryside
you get to see a lot of wildlife…
when you live in the city
you get to find many different
types of man-made art
just wanting to be discovered…
when you grow up surrounded by nature
you gain an appreciation of the power
of the green leaves of every tree,
the sound of the wind blowing
and singing its song
of equilibrium and peace,
and the exceptional beauty
of the vibrant colours of every flower…
when you grow up surrounded by
towering buildings, constant noise,
people, traffic, even from a young age
you have to quickly acquire
an innate knowledge and wisdom
to be able to remember so many signs
telling you what to do, when to do something,
and you have to adapt to so many moments
that sometimes test the limits
of your instincts.

Whether you live surrounded by
the green fields of the countryside
and you are already familiar
with the wonders to be found
while wandering down the sometimes
long and winding country lanes,
or whether you know how to get
from point A to point B
by using public transport
or by being quick-footed
through the always bustling
streets of f a big city –
when you are out and about
and living the life you are meant live
you must always remember
to make the most of what you
have learned and the skills
that make you the mnemonic human being
that you are and everybody is meant to be.

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My Poem ‘Countryside’

As I dream about a city across the sea,
there is someone over the ocean
wishing that they were walking
the fields of the English countryside;
as I sit and hear the sounds
and the accents that I remember so well,
there is someone in the very country
where I wish I was now
thinking about what it would be like
to be where I am, doing what I am doing,
completely untroubled and free.

As I write I think about that friend of mine
telling me about their wish,
and I wish that they and I could trade places,
even if it were only for a few minutes,
and even if it was only a momentary
swapping of minds and lives,
so that we two could for moments
walk in each others shoes
and know the taste and the smell of each others air…
if they were here and if I were there.

If my friend were here at this moment
they would cry at the beauty of the sight of my home;
if my friend could see with my eyes,
their entire vision would be met by
all the colours of the rainbow
represented by the colours of the surrounding
and blooming flowers;
if my friend were able to take in the perfection
that I have known my entire life
which never gets old,
they would never be able to describe verbally
what their eyes cannot look away from –
even if they were describing the landscape
to someone on the phone;
if my friend could follow in my footsteps,
they could and they would never stop exploring
and seeing something new and beautiful
everywhere they looked,
even if they kept walking for 24-hours.

Even when it rains,
and the leaves of the trees are speckled
with droplets of cleansing water from above,
the green that is England through and through
only becomes even more striking,
and when the clouds part
and the sunlight comes blazing through
there is no view anywhere
that is more amazing, nor breathtaking,
than the sudden explosion of colour
that is nature accentuated by the golden rays
of the most important star in the sky
that always makes my home
look like a real life landscape of art
that could never be fully explained,
because it is what it is:
a true, heart-breaking, paradise,
that is so beautiful
it will never stop bringing tears to my eyes.

There are people who I have not yet met face to face,
but who I want to meet;
there are places where I have been
that I want to return to some day,
where when I left them I cried;
there are friends of mine in other countries
who I can’t wait to fully introduce myself to
in the flesh when we first meet and greet;
there are places that I see every day
that the sight of makes me smile,
that if I could I would share with the entire world –
where I have done my fair share of walking,
thinking, contemplating and imagining,
in the most heavenly place on Earth
that is the great, glorious, gorgeous
and beautiful English countryside.

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My Poem ‘The Walking King’

I love walking. I have always loved walking.
I love discovering, I love exploring,
I love adapting; I love finding new ground;
I love trekking, and I happily would walk and keep going
until I could be counted among the lost and found.

When you walk, you see the world
and you get to take in its beauty;
when you walk, the depth of colour
and the exquisite detail that you can see stretches to infinity;
and the ecosystem that carries on regardless
of the sometimes pettiness of humanity, do not blink –
because to them they have an entire life
and a whole world of their own to survive in,
thrive in, and do the best that they can in,
and most of the time these self-contained worlds,
that occasionally overlap, are focused of a single goal
and an encompassing need to
maintain their species’ well-being.

When I walk, I see things, I hear things,
I think about things, I imagine things,
I feel things, that I would not anywhere else,
while doing anything else, and I feel transformed,
and I do not for a second want to stop feeling
or being the person I am,
because the thrill and the rush that galvanizes me
is more powerful than any drug,
and it is a natural instinct and magic
that comes from within us all,
as well as from our surroundings –
whether we are walking free and roaming
in the air of the countryside,
or in a park, or even along the streets
and pavements of a busy city.

If you love to walk, like me,
you will walk anywhere, at any time –
in the daylight, in the dark,
in the peaceful solitude of the wilderness,
in the noisy and chaotic motorway of a never-ending,
never-stopping, never abating living laboratory
of an energetic and energizing metropolis.

The call to be on your feet
is one that a walker, and a runner, cannot ignore,
and it may even wake them in the middle of the night
as they sleep soundly;
the importance and the gift to walk
is one that is primal, and runs deep;
sometimes we can act without having to think,
and walking is one of those things
that if we can we will do,
and under our own subconscious locomotion
we can achieve and maintain without at blink.

Those of us who can walk take it for granted;
those of us who can climb, go anywhere,
stand on a mountain, walk on the seafloor,
have the amazing gift to see and go to
every corner of every country and continent
on our wondrous and beautiful planet.

When I walk, I take in the temperature
and the touch of the air;
when I walk, I feel exhilarated,
as I witness the incredible, the unbelievable,
the fantastic, and the amazing;
when I walk, I am in my own world,
and I feel like I can go anywhere;
when I walk, the world truly comes alive,
and sometimes I cannot believe my eyes,
as I witness the endless cycle of a world in the making,
that I am a part of, and more often than not
when I walk, I love the feeling
of being a “Walking King”.

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My Poem ‘Elements’

Out in the elements,
wrapped up in a big coat
to keep out the cold of the wind;
outside, walking, experiencing a wave of deja vu,
as if doing something that you once dreamed;
the leaves fall all around you;
birds fly from tree to tree;
people off on an adventure race past you
in cars and on bikes;
as you make the most of every moment of freedom
that are so precious,
but you don’t realize how much
until they fade away,
as the light of the day begins to dim.

You can only, truly, speak with clarity
when describing, sharing, and reliving,
an experience that either just happened,
or when recalling the details and the emotions
of a memory that have become the paradise of your life and mind;
you can make things up as you go along,
but there is nothing better than to draw
from that which you already know,
from which you could never be blind.

Earth did not just flash into being in an instant;
the world did not become what it is over night;
even nature was once young and innocent, like an infant;
the beauty of the universe was something that was there
at the moment of creation, but it could not be seen,
felt, perceived, reflected upon,
until the rise, the evolution,
and the question of origins was asked,
by the first of infinite forms of intelligent life.

The smell of a newborn baby;
the aroma of a beautiful flower coming into bloom;
watching someone float in space free of gravity;
seeing the light of the sun at dawn;
glimpsing the light of a full-moon
through the window of a room;
the heart-pounding rush of jumping off a cliff
and flying instead of falling;
thinking about every new horizon and possibility
as an adventure, as well as a calling.

A gift, a present;
a lift; a season of significance;
an important time; a beautiful moment;
a peace of you never to be left behind;
a confluence of life, fate, destiny, karma,
thought, emotion, and reality,
and its connected and miraculous elements.