A long time ago,
I put a padlock with our names on it
onto a bridge next to countless others,
and after I attached our lock -
the lock that, to me, at the time,
signified our unending love for one another -
I threw the key to our lock
into the water of the river below;
and I never foresaw that I would
ever regret doing what I did -
however, now, I have to say, I do,
because what we once had is no more,
and whenever I think of that lock
it makes me feel sad,
because our love, as it turns out,
was a lie from beginning to end -
because we were once lovers,
but now we are not even friends.
I wish I could find that lock -
the one that I put on that bridge
all those years ago -
and break it, just as my heart was broken,
because it now symbolises
how foolish I was to have allowed
myself to fall for you
and to believe your lies...
I wish I still remembered what
the key to that lock looked like -
because, maybe if I did, I would
choose to dive to the bottom
of that river and retrieve it
so that I could use it
to unlock that which now feels meaningless;
however, there are most likely
many other keys to be found
in the water underneath the bridge -
so my chances of finding the right key
for the right lock are slim, at best,
but I think it would be worth a shot.
Maybe I should just try
and forget about what once was - us -
and that which once meant so much;
but the truth is that moving on
is harder than it sounds,
especially when you still have
a head full of memories
and shared experiences,
and somewhere in the world
there still remains things
that were placed somewhere in particular
with the intention that they stay
where they are forever,
even though you wish you could
remove them and throw them away -
things like carved initials in an oak tree,
graffiti on a wall,
dedications within books,
or names written upon a lock
that will continue to be
a source of pain whenever
you think of them, or see them,
because they make you remember
what you once had with someone
and that one day when
all that used to mean everything
suddenly came to a stop
and then became lost.
endings
My Poem “Just Like That”
How can two people love each other,
and then, one day in the future,
the love they had,
the love that bound them,
and the love that meant
something to them
more than words could say,
seemingly disappeared -
as if with the snap of a finger?
How is that possible? How?
All those kisses... All those hugs...
All those timeless gazes...
All gone, all forgotten -
as of they never really happened.
What a sad story.
What a heart-breaking reality.
The beginning of anything
and everything is always wonderful -
but as time goes on,
and as things happen,
people change more
than they think they do,
people change other people,
and before anyone knows it
the world can be something
to someone one minute
and then the next something
completely different and new.
Most of the time,
change cannot be seen,
nor predicted, until it happens -
like a explosion in the fabric of reality
that causes waves to carry
far and wide, high and deep,
until, one day, you wake up,
you look around, and you feel
something inside of you -
and you are taken to a place
that you never thought
you would go to,
and all you can do
is keep going down the same road
that you now find yourself on.
There is a reason for everything.
There is a reason why people meet
when, where, and how they do.
There is a reason for why
people are happy,
but then they decide
they can no longer
proceed down a path
that they know is wrong.
There is a reason why
people give up on other people -
because they lose their faith
in something that they
always thought would be forever.
Endings are sad,
because they are meant to be...
if something stops
and you do not even blink an eyelid
then obviously what that something was
did not mean enough to you
for you to fight for it...
there is a strange feeling
that courses through you
when the music that you
always used to hear
suddenly goes silent,
and you almost immediately
start to forget something
that used to be so integral
to who you were and how you saw yourself -
there is always the shadow
of an after-image that remains,
but what was once present
now feels as if it has longsince past.
Every morning there is a sunrise;
every evening there is a sunset;
every time a storm rages
upon the surface of the sun
it sheds a part of itself
that ultimately makes its way to Earth
and interacts with the magnetic field
of our planet in the form of aurora;
every time two people
fall in love with one another
it is as if the mechanisms
of a ticking clock have been set into motion -
and only time will tell
what those two people
will choose to do together,
and with others,
before the day will come
when something beyond anyone's control -
but not out of the realms
of causality and possibility -
will effect everything,
and where something once was
something else will have taken its place,
just like that.
My Poem “In store”
I used to love watching sunrises and sunsets - but now, whenever I see one, all I can think about is how many more I will get to enjoy, and how much time I have left; time was always something that I thought I had a lot of, time with people was something that I foolishly took for granted - then I was physically and emotionally struck by a loss so overwhelming that my entire attitude towards life and what was important was impacted. Some things hit you hard but you learn to recover from them... some things knock you off your stride but you can relearn how to walk again... some things you can stop doing but you can resume at a later date; however, there are some things - like seeing the face of someone who you love who you have lost - that you know you might have to hold on to for a long time, because if you want to see someone again you might have to wait, and, most importantly, you might have to hold on to something even more valuable and precious: your faith. Over the course of a life everybody finds someone and something to believe in... from beginning to end everybody's life is a story that has so much detail to it that even if you tried you wouldn't be able to recall, nor capture, every last thing... when you wake up every morning it can take a while to remember who you are, where, and what happened - even the events of the night before... when everybody goes to bed at night - but before they dream the night away - there is a time that feels like you are watching a tide rise that you are unable to stop looking at and can not walk away from because what is coming towards you is a force of the universe that reminds us of where we came from, where we've been, where we are going, and somewhere that only those who perceive time non-linearly know for sure what is ultimately in store.
My Poem “End of the Road”
Every life has a beginning and an end... every journey has a start and a finish... every day has a message to be received and a message to be sent... every time you hope for the best sometimes you get exactly what you wanted and sometimes the reality that unfolds in no way matches your original wish. As I stand at the junction at the end of one road and at the beginning of another I find myself looking back over the path that I have forged with my own words and actions I see so many of the missteps that I have made - as if I could see my own footprints as clearly as if they were made in snow or in mud - and I wish that I were able to go back and change certain things, because I realize now that for so long I have, in a way, been trying to hold back the water of a flood by constantly repairing breaches in the dams that I have constructed to not allow the natural flow of the poetry of life that I believe in to change and refresh that which sometimes needs to be renewed - because for so long I have been held back by emotional barriers that at times I found it hard to contend with and understand. Everything is finite... night must become day, just as day must become night... rain falls, seas rise, rivers flow - and no matter what is said and what is done nature will win out, and for every door that opens one must close... everything, everyone, can only be expected to go so far for so long before they reach the end of a road and they have to start upon another.
My Poem “Story of a writer’s life”
Whenever you ask a writer
what the hardest thing to do
when writing anything is
they will most likely tell you
that the same thing that is
the hardest thing to do is also
one of the most essential,
one of the most fundamental,
one of the most amazing
and one of the most fulfilling
things that a writer can do:
to finish things, to end things,
to conclude things, to write a definitive
and effective last verse that defines,
underlines, and gives a new insight into
what the meaning of a work
of literature might be,
why its underlying message
might be enlightening,
and also the reason why an author
chose to explore a particular story
or subject matter in the first place.
It is always good to restart a story
the minute after you have just read
a particular book. Why?
Because no matter how much you think
you know about the story
that you have just read
there is always more to be found
within the lines of text,
especially with a god-like insight into
what is going to happen before
the characters do,
because by restarting the story again
you are turning back the clock
and resetting an entire world
of characters whom you know more about
than they know about themselves –
which gives everything
a fresh new perspective.
Stories and storytellers
are to what, and they are to whom,
everybody turns to when they want to be
entertained, enchanted, educated,
and illuminated about something
or someone that has a tale to be told
about the what, the when, the why,
and how so much of life
revolves around and is built upon
stories told by storytellers
who might have spent countless hours
retelling, building, understanding,
and trying to capture
a sometimes indefinable magic
that they once found themselves
inspired by and compelled to grasp
the ball of entangled threads
that combine to create every single
word, of every single line,
of every story, of every writer,
of every creator since
the beginning to time.
My Poem “Hello Friend!”
It’s always great
making new friends…
when we watch certain characters
on television or in films
we often quickly become drawn
to a particular protagonist
that we, for one reason
or another, can identify with.
It’s always good to explore
new things – films, music,
books, places, stories –
and it is always fascinating
to witness how a particular
journey can change a person
in so many different ways.
Whenever we all watch
certain characters in movies,
or on television,
and we see them having to overcome
all obstacles that they have to contend with,
and face all the adversaries
that they have to face,
while walking the path that is their fate,
it can be such a thrilling
and an exhilarating experience
that certain people often choose
to return to those same stories,
and to those same characters,
time and time again.
When we become engrossed
in a particular story,
and when we become invested
in a particular cast of characters,
we never want what we and they
have been through to come to an end;
however, most audience members know
that endings are just as fundamental
to a story as beginnings,
and as long as when a story
comes to a close it is satisfying –
and it is revealed that everything
that happened was all for something –
then, in some way, people can cope
with the ultimate moment
of finality without regret.
When we have to say goodbye to someone –
even if it is only a well-loved character
who we see performing on a flat-screen –
even the most detached of watchers
can become so connected
to whom they have been watching,
especially if the storyline
that is coming to a conclusion
has been a compelling
and riveting one to behold;
and that is why, when
some people reach the end of a story,
they automatically go back
to the very beginning of
the same story that they have been
watching, reading, or perhaps
listening to, for so long,
and they start the journey all over again
in an attempt to recapture the magic somehow,
by greeting the same characters
that they are already greatly familiar with,
with a smile, and with a warm:
“Hello friend!”
My Poem “New Horizons”
Every day, beginnings
and endings exist and play out
in parallel to one another:
on one side of the same world
one person can be looking
at the sun rising at the dawn of day,
while another can be looking up
at the moon and the stars
of the twilight hours of the night…
everybody lives in different worlds,
living different lives –
even people sitting three feet away
from one another, in the same cafe,
can be thinking, feeling, living,
and breathing in vastly different ways.
Everybody in their life has a path;
however, that does not mean
that the steps that need to be taken
in order to reach the place of potential
are always going to be straight
and easy to be traversed…
every day since the start of recorded
human history empires have fallen
and new dynasties have risen
to fill the vacuum left
when one piece of the tapestry of life
is cut away because it no longer
fits with the modern world that it exists within.
Without exception everybody,
at some point in their life,
has made multiple mistakes –
and often times everybody has to find
a way to adapt and to coexist
with the intentions, the actions,
and the waves of change caused
by people who influence the people of the world
through their words but who live
far removed and untouchable from those
whom they claim to speak for
often times from behind walls and gates
and in castles and in high-towers
which have a power-structure
that has existed for centuries
among many human societies around the world.
What is built must one day self-realize
that there will come a time
when the end is a necessary component
of reinvention, revitalization, renewal,
so that something can continue to be relevant
beyond the time of their prime –
and that goes for the people,
businesses, brands, and opinions
that have existed around the world…
every day there are new lives being born
and every instant there are new universes
coming into existence that are off-shoots
of other universes…
every moment there are things that happen,
there are things that are seen,
there are things and there are people
that change the world and open the windows
and the doors to brand new horizons.
My Poem ‘Crescendo (Happy New Year)’
As one important door closes,
another important door opens…
as one year ends,
as one journey reaches its climax…
another year, another journey begins…
as one world sleeps, another world awakens –
and the cycle of life begins again,
similar and yet brand new…
as one sky becomes filled with twinkling stars,
another sky is as bright as can be
breathtaking and blue.
This is real life…
this is the song of day and night…
this is the orbit of the human soul –
just like the moon spinning around the Earth,
just like the Earth spinning around the sun,
just like the sun spinning
on the outer-edge of our galaxy.
Lights go out in the universe
every second of every day,
but we do not see them until it is too late –
however, it is never too late
to mourn the passing of something, or someone,
whomever, or wherever they are,
with a thought, with a song,
with a simple-but-meaningful verse of poetry.
Time passes into darkness too quickly…
stars shine, they burn bright –
and then, like everything and everyone,
there comes a day when they die…
memories remain, everything and everyone
continue to live on,
and it is a long time before something
or someone’s spirit actually leaves…
there is nothing worse than letting go of something –
however, the parting of ways with something
is not the same as saying goodbye.
Within the blink of an eye…
within the time that it takes for you to realize
what your life has all been about
and what you leave behind,
you see a shadow fall within your mind…
every second, every minute, every hour, every day,
every year, of every moment of time
are all the same and are all connected like a chain –
one leading to another, over and over,
and continuing in one direction: forwards –
no matter if you feel like you are living in the past,
there is always a brand new miracle
that the universe wants to show you…
life is a precious and beautiful piece of music
that never stops growing, evolving, and building
into the most epic of all crescendos.
My Poem ‘Balloons’
Where we have been
and where we are going
are tied together
by the threads of our lives;
while we are enjoying a good story
we never want it to come to an end;
darkness and light ties night to day
and day to night;
sometimes when we know
we are approaching the end of a great book
we will put it down and bookmark our place
so that we can pick up one day where we left off;
however, just as every writer
must finish writing their story,
every reader must follow a tale
to its conclusion,
and when they reach the last word of the last page
promise to return to the same story again and again –
the same, but different –
like periodically catching up with an old friend.
We all sometimes look at our own reflection
and do not immediately like the face that we see –
though someone else may look at the same face
and see the face of unparalleled infinite beauty;
we all should remember that a mirror
can only show us a distorted image of how we appear,
and the only true way of knowing
who the world sees when they look at us
is to go to the one person who knows us best
to describe us and tell us who they see
and what about us they most revere.
We all have reasons for what we do;
certain things and special people
have an indefinable gravity about them;
we all love people in our lives
in ways that we show every day,
but we sometimes feel a need to prove;
we all leave many clues;
I, myself, could never deny
an unbreakable connection –
once made, never severed –
because, just like the bound pages in a book,
bound people are linked forever
because that is what was always meant to happen.
Some people rise and fall by the resonance of a voice;
some hearts beat in perfect-time with other hearts,
and even when they are far-apart from one-another
they constantly sing “see you soon”;
falling in love is uncontrollable
and it is a fundamental instinct without choice;
all stories have chapters and twists,
beginnings and endings,
and some have a pace and a depth to them
that is as vast as space;
and though its true meaning and message
may not be as blatant as a telephone ringing,
the best thing about any story
under any cover is one that you can hold,
walk with, and even tie to something,
and is that which you should never let go of –
because once a story rises too high out of reach
it will become someone else’s,
and slowly drift away like the wind
carrying away a balloon of your own making.
Mark The Poet 