My Poem ‘Poet’s Fire’

There have always been poets…
there has always been poetry…
there have always been optimists…
there has always been a fire
of inspiration and curiosity,
even before the first apple
was picked from the tree of knowledge…
there will always be mysteries…
there will always be love…
there have always been those
who have sought out answers to questions
from one kind of divine being
or another over the many centuries…
there has always been sources of light –
both internal and external,
both within a person’s heart
or in the sky above.

A poet is like a mirror,
poetry is like a reflection…
a poet is who brings out
the emotions from within,
poetry is the spell
of a linguistic-magician.

Children paint poetic pictures
with their fingertips…
adults can emote poetry
with their eyes…
children read poetry
in the actions of their friends
and they hear poetry
from the lips of their parents…
both adults and children
inspire poetry all the time –
enough to make someone smile,
or enough to make someone cry.

Many flames make a burning furnace…
many words make a world…
many memories make a life…
many things make us feel inspired…
many experiences only poetry can make sense…
many forms of literature
can also be a life-saving cure…
many poetic dreams are born
under starlit night-skies…
many every-day influences
keep alive the light, the heat,
the flames, the energy,
and the poetry of a poet’s fire.

My Poem ‘Blind Curiosity’

When the sun went down
it was like witnessing
a great eye closing…
when the daylight
faded into the darkness of twilight
it was like seeing the world
slowly fall asleep…
when the golden light shone up
instead of down
it was like watching the world
appear to start a journey
towards a state of dreaming…
when the sky was finally devoid of colour
and the stars came out to shine their light
from unfathomable distances away…
I found myself looking,
just above the horizon,
to where the sky meets the ground,
and I was drawn high above and far away,
on a flight of fantasy,
to a place within my own imagination –
but which felt more like a part of a dream
of someone divine who could create
beautiful new worlds
from the moment that they touch
the ocean of infinite dreamers
with the toes of their feet.

I always walk blindly into a dream…
I have no preconceptions
about what I might find
when I start looking deep inside…
I have always wondered
whether we could revisit a dream –
even one that we might have had
when we were children
and after we had been read a bed-time story –
and I wonder if an adult
observing a child’s thoughts
would know instantly what they mean?
I envy the playground
that every child has within their mind –
the scope of a child’s fantasy world has no limit,
and within a child’s imagination
every moment can be the instant
of an infinite number of sunrises.

The evening sky is a magical piece of heavenly art,
as the birds return to their nests,
and as the owls, the foxes, the badgers, the bats,
the wildlife of the night start to appear,
when it is dark so many things happen…
there is so much wonder, thought, love, magic,
and imagination that blooms like a flower
constantly under the light of divinity…
there is so much life in this world,
and most of it thrives at night
when the universe recites its sonnets for us to hear,
and when the dreamers of existence leap with joy
into the realms of blind curiosity.