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 “Up With The Crows”

I’ve always been an early riser…
I’ve always awoken before
the sun has risen above the horizon…
I’ve always bee someone lucky enough
to have been given the gift of being
able to hear and to be able to listen
to the beautiful symphony
and the majestic choir of the dawn chorus
sung by all manner of birds.

I’ve always been a poet who has looked,
listened, and took in the spirit
and the essence that greets me
every morning when I open up
all of my senses to all the wonders
and all the magic that I have felt –
all the inspiration that has been
conjured within my mind
that have been converted into perfect words.

Some mornings I wake up
and I am instantly and automatically
ready for the day ahead of me,
and then there are those mornings
when it takes me a minute or two
to find my bearings
and get my priorities straight…
some mornings I feel like
I am ahead of the game,
and some mornings I feel like
my brain is running late.

Every morning is definitely
a different morning than the one
that came before and it will definitely
be different from the one that will follow;
however, I am just like everybody else
and I too have my own version
of a morning routine that I believe
stands me in good stead
and starts my day off on the right foot –
and I like to think that every morning
I am prepared to zig and to zag
and to adapt to every thing that the world
is just waiting to throw my way.

Some mornings, my thoughts, my feelings,
my blood, runs fast –
and some mornings, like a car
stuck in a traffic-jam,
the highway of my consciousness runs slow;
however, I can honestly report
that there hasn’t been many mornings
during my life, even as child,
when I have not woken up
with a brand new idea in my mind
that I want to caw about
and at the same time as the crows.

My Poem “Insomniac”

During the early hours of the morning
I have been awoken,
my mind has been opened
like the creaking door of an old house,
and I feel something stirring within me…
the sky outside is still dark,
everybody around me is still asleep –
however, I cannot switch of,
nor retreat to the depths beneath
where I return to the realm of my dreams…
I try listening to soothing sounds,
I try listening to the music
of Vivaldi and Mozart
hoping that the beautiful
classical music will help me fall
into a delicate trance
like that of watching a falling leaf –
however, I am still wide awake
and it appears that the delta waves
of my brain were disrupted so severely
that they could no longer maintain
there normal restorative cycle
and pull me down and deep…
I turn off all the lights,
I lay my head down in a room of darkness,
I slow my breathing and I try
to concentrate on the white noise
of the stillness of the early morning,
and I hope that I will soon be able
to resume a mood of restfulness
and renew my state of snooze
by listening to the tune of The Sandman’s muse
and curing me of my insomnia.

My Poem ‘Early’

First thing in the morning,
with the dawn of the first light of the sun,
and the sound of the first birds singing –
even when the air outdoors is cold to the touch –
for some people, at the moment that they wake up,
that first realization that they are no longer
asleep and dreaming is enough of a spark
to relight the fire of their heart,
like the flame of love…
for some, when the time and the day is early,
that is when they begin their daily story.

In the Summer-time the days feel endless…
when it is Winter and it is colder
you have to keep on the move more,
and so the days feel shorter…
in the Summer-time you feel like
you have got all the time in the world
to close your eyes, relax, and rest…
but when it is Winter you feel like
you can’t catch-up with the time
that feels like it is running away from you
like a stream of rushing water.

I am naturally an early-riser,
so waking up while it is still dark outside
is an every-day thing…
I would not be me if I did not greet
that new day with open eyes
and a wide-smile, and with hope in my heart
at what it may bring…
I have been waking up
before everybody else in my family
since I was young and my hair was blond and curly…
I have a feeling that my natural instinct
to stay awake, and to not fall straight back to sleep
after I first wake up,
is ever going to change anytime soon –
just like I am never going to stop writing poetry,
I do not think I am ever going to stop
waking up early.