I will always seek…
I will always search…
I will always be an explorer
of other world’s beyond the stars
that shine their light upon the Earth –
because, for me, space… life…
the power of imagination…
the exploration and the discovery
of the wonders of the universe
is an enterprise into the unknown
that for a voyager like me
is more addictive to my mind
and to my heart than
a sugar-rush of candy…
I have always been a dreamer…
I have always been a wanderer…
I have always seen space
as a magical and wondrous frontier…
I have always longed to journey
to another planet…
to another solar system…
to another galaxy…
to see the Earth from so far away,
to understand how truly precious
and unique our blue planet is
even in this cosmos of infinite beauty
and of infinite diversity…
I have always wanted to be
the captain of a star-ship,
to explore the universe
and revel in each and every one
of our deep space discoveries.
discovery
My Poem ‘Missing Letters’
Messages can be exchanged
in an instant;
feelings can be communicated
with a heart-beat;
some letters
that never reached
their intended recipient
and destination
could be those
of the highest importance;
gone are the days
when you would literally
have to wait weeks for a single reply –
however, I still believe
that the most powerful of contacts
that there could ever be
are those that are made
by using your feet.
First-person perspective,
face-to-face,
eye-to-eye and infinitely expressive
is always the best,
especially when it does not wholly
require the assistance of a satellite
orbiting in space –
but in this day and age,
we who are living here on Earth
are so lucky to have
all the means of technology at our fingertips.
I must admit that I too would feel bereft
if I could not speak what I am thinking,
as well as express myself
via my facial-expressions –
like the blowing
the one I love a goodnight kiss.
The written word and the printed white page
is a thing of beauty, to me –
but the power of text and the images
of a back-lit and bright screen,
I must admit, are, to me,
a draw, and to one
I am like that a moth to a flame.
I adore books and stories
written be fantastic and phenomenal writers,
but what you can see and share online
on the internet is an incredibly evocative,
vivid, and epic, world-changing domain.
I recently read a news story online
about the discovery of an amazing find:
a leather trunk from the 17th century
had been unearthed that contained
over two thousand letters –
most of the letters that have been translated
tell stories of a people
and what they were feeling and thinking
at a particularly eventful
and momentous time in their life,
while most of them thus far
still remain a mystery
as to what they say –
and I truly believe that such a discovery
is one of a treasure
that may never again come to light,
because those letters are fragments of time.
Letters can be lost, misplaced, forgotten about
sent out across the sea in a bottle –
however, messages that are sent electronically
follow you wherever you go
and are like coin thrown into a well
that never reaches the watery bottom.
Our electronic messages are like our own
digital ghosts and shadows
that we are responsible for;
our electronic images and profiles
can be seen by everyone and anyone,
24-hours a day, from the last light of dusk
to the first light of a new dawn.
There is a lot to be thankful for
about living in the times that we do;
we have discovered answers to questions
that our ancestors prayed to god
that they wished they knew;
there are things that we all do well –
but we as a species, in my opinion,
can all do better;
we may all find what we have been looking for
all our lives if we too were
to somehow miraculously discover,
or rediscover, buried over time
a treasure trove
of lost or missing letters.
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”.
My Poem ‘The Shard of Hope’
London called, and I replied;
London is like a beautiful city from another world,
and the whole time I am there
I feel like I am on a magical ride.
I have always been drawn to inspiring places –
that is why I love going to cities,
because they are filled with so much energy, life,
and a myriad of interesting, fascinating,
fascinated, voices and faces.
London is something else, though,
and like another unbelievable city, New York City,
London is a hive of intense and magnetic activity.
Riding the Underground,
feeling the beating vibe,
while walking and traveling overground –
whether on the tube,
or going from place to place on the city streets –
London takes you and shows you things
you have been imagining and have seen in your mind
in all there grand and epic scales,
and around every corner, or on the skyline,
there is a constant gallery of treats.
Standing outside the gates of Buckingham Palace;
being next to the Houses of Parliament
when Big Ben struck two;
bowing my head while facing the Poppy-wreath flooded Cenotaph,
and remembering the fallen in silence,
as countless people walk past;
crossing Tower Bridge, and marveling at everything about it –
from the sandy colour of it’s castle-like towers,
to its suspensions of white and blue.
The biggest thrill,
and the sudden appearance that wowed me and struck me the most,
was the towering and phenomenal sight of The Shard
shooting up to the sky,
as I was standing outside the London Bridge tube station –
I truly could not believe my eyes;
when I saw it, and every time I could,
I took a chance to look at it,
and be completely lost in instances of fixation,
adoration, and gravitation.
When I reached the Tower of London,
and when I walked around its high walls,
and finally reached the place where the final pieces
of a memorial of red ceramic poppies remained to be seen
and marveled at,
I felt that I had reached the end
of my amazing London journey of discovery;
however, I also knew in my heart that that wasn’t just that.
I came to a realization, as I was looking at the sun setting
behind the city skyscrapers on the other side of the River Thames;
and as I looked at the majestic Shard against the blue and golden sky,
I knew that this time was both a beginning and end:
I realized that London, Great Britain, my home,
was, is, has been, will always be,
one of the most beautiful, gleaming, and timeless, jewels of Earth,
and one of the most important beacons of acceptance
and greatness on the globe;
I realized that London, and our world itself,
is a constant spark in the dark of the universe,
and a powerful shard of hope.
My Poem ‘The Psychology of Silence’
Silence speaks louder than sound;
silence is where true discovery is made;
silence is where truth is found;
silence is full of infinite space;
silence is where you can hear a heart beating,
or a heart breaking;
silence is a no mans land where no one can hide;
silence is waiting; silence is a tide.
There is no sound in space;
there is no sound in a vacuum;
silence has no face;
silence can hurt you.
Words on a page rise silently;
words written in ink have depth deeper
than the paper they are written on;
words are not the only poetry;
words are a way of transition.
If you can convey an intention, a feeling,
an emotion, a meaning, without making a sound,
or without the aid of anything
other than that of you and yourself,
you truly understand and are on the same wavelength
as that of nature;
if you can say something with an action
rather than with an empty sentiment,
then not only can you be a powerful presence
on the present, but also, more importantly,
a talisman for the future.
The planets of our solar system
orbit around the sun unheard;
if you were listening from high above
you wouldn’t be able to hear anything,
but you would know that humanity was there
by the tiny lights that we all make
from our place on the surface of the Earth;
everything, everyone, has a silent story
that speaks for itself, and themselves;
epic people and fantastic worlds
can be spoken to and journeyed to
within the pages of every book on every bookshelf.
A therapist uses silence as an essential tool
to open a person’s mind;
a fisherman uses silence and patience
in unison with their bait to catch their fish;
an artist uses silence along with the paint on their canvas,
and if need be could make great art blind;
anyone can decipher anything with knowledge and common-sense;
everything is there to be something
to something, or someone, else-
that is what I found and interpreted
when I analyzed what struck me
about the psychology of silence.
Mark The Poet 