My Poem “The Burning Bulb”

This is what I remember...
this is how it used to be...
this is what I and many others
like me have been unable
to do for almost a year...
this is how I have spent
so many mornings as a writer, as a poet,
and as an observer of human nature:
sitting in my favourite café,
as the bells of a nearby clock ring out,
and feel like I am where and when
I need to be to take out my notebook
and write some new poetry.

It hasn't been the same experience,
it hasn't been the same magic -
even though I have not stopped
writing, nor creating new things,
over the last twelve months
I, like everybody, has had to adapt to living
in a world divided in so many ways...
even though I have not been
lacking in ideas, inspiration, drive,
nor passion to let my poetic side express itself -
now that I am back, sitting inside
and enjoying the ambience and the atmosphere
around me that I know so well,
which for years has fuelled my creativity,
I honestly feel as if I am able to spread
the wings of my intrinsically
poetic and artistic spirit.

I have learned over the years
to embrace every moment,
because things can very easily
be put on pause, beyond our control,
or can even be brought to an abrupt end -
which is why I often dwell upon memories
of where I have been, of what I have seen
and of what I have felt throughout my life...
I am someone who has always looked
to the distant horizon and to the future -
but when anybody goes through
a period of being within something,
or away from someone who matters to them,
everybody undoubtedly feels
this need to somehow go back,
to recapture and to relive all that to them
for so long has always felt like
a constant burning bulb of energizing
inspiration, light, and hope.

My Poem “Start Early”

Some of the most profound
and prolific artists started
creating art early…
some of the most revered
and remembered artists
all began their artistic journey
by being a day-dreamer…
some of the most insightful
and incredible artists
started every new day with
questions about the universe
and their place within it…
some of the most powerful
and poetic artists begin
with a blank canvas
and with an impulse to
to describe something with
descriptive and definitive words
if they are a writer,
or with colour and texture
like that of the brush-strokes of a painter…
some of the most amazing
and astonishing artists
start out doing what they love
to do simply for fun…
some of the most inspiring
artists were inspired and
can inspire others simply…
some of the artists who
have the most unique of voices
speak with their art as
if they were standing within
a forest of trees basking
in the afternoon light of the sun…
some people discover their
secret identity as an artist later in life,
and some people hear the call
of creativity when they are still a child
and forever afterwards as a adult
whatever path they proceed upon
they always start early.

My Poem “Pandora”

Being a poet, being an artist,
being a writer, being an author,
being a creator is like being
the personification of Pandora –
who in Greek mythology was the first woman,
created out of the Earth by order of Zeus,
whose name means “all gifts”,
and who was gifted a container
which she was instructed not to open
but which she one day
did indeed lift the lid of
and in doing so allowed all the “evils”
within to be released and spread across
the Earth, but was able to close the lid
quick enough to contain the blessing of hope.

When an artist creates something
they are bringing to life a gift
that is a mixture of all that they may have
experienced throughout their life,
while still retaining within them
a feeling of hope and optimism that what
they have to say and to express
will one day find the intended target
that their art was meant for.

Everybody on Earth occasionally
has this insatiable instinct to open
a box or a container that has within it
that which they do not understand,
but that which they must see
with their own eyes to satisfy
their need to know all that can be known,
just like the ever curious Pandora.

My Poem “Left to Write”

Fast or slow…
Long or short…
Something you feel,
something you know…
Something to be discovered,
something to be revealed…
In a notebook, on a screen…
At home, or somewhere
you have never been…
From eyes and ears
to mind and imagination…
From the inside to the outside…
In silence, from sound…
In the sky, or while standing
upon solid-ground…
From dreams to reality…
From a burst of sunlight…
From the stars of infinity…
Just like that comes a poem,
and it never ceases to amaze me
what a writer can create
when they are simply
left to write.

My Poem ‘The Night Club’

It always been amazing to me
how a song or a piece of music
can make you and can teach you
how to move to it
within seconds of first hearing it;
it has always been inspiring to me
how a memorable character in a story
can have the unknown power
to come into the physical world
and walk around in it;
it has always been fascinating to me
why some people, no matter how soundly
they may be sleeping
wake up early in the morning,
and, just like me, begin creating;
it has always been gratifying to me
to see people sharing what they can
and keeping alive the memory
of a phenomenal feeling.

I have always been a quick study;
I have always been fast on my feet,
as well as fast in thought
and luminous and strong in spirit;
I have always known that
there are multiple levels to a story;
I have always felt just as comfortable,
alive, and sensitive to what surrounds me
in the beautiful light of a sunny day,
as I do walking in the dark
in the moonlight of night.

Everyone is a catalyst;
every day is a new day
that has echoes of the days before
as well as foreshadowing of the days that will follow;
every time you do anything
you are taking a risk;
every eventuality can evolve
from fantasy to reality at any moment
anywhere you go.

When you unexpectedly wake up,
you are being awoken for a reason;
when you randomly find something
that has been left by somebody,
that thing was left purposefully
so that you could find it
and so that it could influence
your life in some way;
when you see something, feel something,
and something within you is changed;
when you know that you are forever in love;
when you know your place,
when you know your time,
when you find yourself awake
and energized like never before –
reading, writing, watching, walking,
listening, loving every moment,
even if that place and time
is midday in the afternoon
or 1 o’clock in the morning –
and you discover that you are a member
and a reveler like so many other people
who are in their element being a star
in the constellation of a night club.

My Poem ‘Those were the days’

The days as a child
that I spent daydreaming;
the days as a child
that I spent simply being;
the days as a child
that I spent reading, creating,
making, watching, listening, and learning,
were the best and the most care-free of my life;
and my memories and recollections
of the days when I was a boy, thinking back,
were truly inspiring, exciting;
and there are times now, as an adult,
when I look around and I think,
and I sometimes wish,
that I were still the boy that I was,
and still dreaming.
I am constantly writing down memories;
I am always drawing maps in my mind
to lead me back to where I have been;
I am continuously saving things;
I am frequently returning
to the places that I had to leave.
Things must change;
sometimes in life
you have to navigate and find your way
through something that feels like a maze;
even though most things that we do in life
happen and never leave any trace,
it is important to remember the important things –
like places and faces –
that make you say out-loud:
‘those were the days’!