My Poem “Hidden Talents”

Everybody has a hidden talent, or two…
everybody has a gift
to make all their dreams come true…
everybody is an undercover creator…
everybody is an observer,
a sharer, a communicator…
everybody has a secret identity…
everybody has a secret personality…
everybody has a secret story…
everybody has a secret destiny
that is theirs and theirs alone
that has a hidden meaning at its centre
which is constantly speaking to them
and guiding them to the person
who they are meant to be…
most of the time it is only when we are alone
that we fully express our inner voices…
most of the time it is only when we allow our mind to wander
that we show the truest versions of our inner creativity…
most of the time it is only when we are dreaming
that we find ourselves truly embracing a spotlight
under which we can sing to our hearts content –
however, there are those who are lucky enough
to be able to make theirs dreams come true
and every day show in everything that they do
why it is important to believe in yourself
and make the most of every one of your
miraculous hidden talents.

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My Poem “Pride”

Pride is all around us…
flags of many colours
and symbols of many things
are being displayed proudly wherever I go…
symbols of pride in ones identity
and in ones country are being worn
on the clothing of everybody who feels hope
and optimism deep within their heart…
pride is being sung and can be heard in the air…
pride in a shared passion brings people
from many different walks of life together…
pride is one of the most important things to have,
and it is one of the hardest things to lose…
pride should not need to be explained to anybody,
because Pride is just another word for Love –
and sometimes who and what you love
is not for you to choose…
people feel love with people, with places,
with things, with ideas, with ideals
that draw them to them like a moth to a flame…
people feel deep pride and they live every moment
of something that means the world to them:
whether it be their favourite singer or musician,
their favourite thing to do and experience,
or perhaps every second of the 90 minutes
that make up the two halves of their favourite game…
pride can be shown in many ways…
pride can be felt by those who know
the power of its energy every day…
pride is a person’s internal voice
that should not be silenced…
pride is the growl of courage, the howl of unity,
and the roar of family that you can see,
hear, and feel within a pack of wolves,
or within a group of lions who embody
the importance of staying strong by keeping your pride.

My Poem “The Safe Place”

Everybody has that where,
everybody has that when,
everybody has that place
and that time which matters to them…
everybody has that bubble,
everybody has that parallel world,
everybody has that mirror to step through
when they want to retreat into themselves
and create a space away from the outside world…
everybody from a young age chooses somewhere –
whether it be in front of a screen,
or in between the ear-buds of a pair of headphones,
or within the pages of a book,
or interacting and sharing with others socially
over an interconnected world wide network –
that always makes them feel comfortable and at home,
and when they are there the magic that they find
is sometimes impossible to put into words…
everybody needs a refuge, everybody needs a paradise,
everybody needs a universe within themselves
where they can dream, imagine, and play-out
things that need to be explored
that could one day be brought out
and manifested into the real world
and be transformed from meta-physical
into a physical and solid totem of peace…
everybody has the key to their own place within
where they go to to feel for a short time
that feeling of euphoria that awaits us all
when we return to our own private safe place.

My Poem ‘Morphine’

Everybody would do anything
for the one they love;
anybody would do everything
to take away their loved-one’s pain –
even get down on their knees
and plead for relief
from God above;
there is nothing worse
than not being able
to help someone in need
who means the world to you;
there is nothing more harrowing
than having to see your loved-one
wince in pain and then cry out
for someone to give them something
to take away the agony
that shoots through their entire body
when they move.

Some fights cannot be won alone;
every battle leaves scars;
some people go through things
that hurt them more than anyone else
could ever possibly know;
everybody sometimes needs a hand to hold
to guide them through the dark.

Every day is a test;
there is no one
who has all the answers to every-thing;
nobody knows what day will be someone’s last;
when things become so tormenting that we start crying,
we all start to ask to the question: why me?
and we just crave for a long and peaceful rest.

Sickness is hard on all those
who are effected by it –
family, friends, and especially
on the one who is sick;
to me, there is nothing
that is as infuriating
as seeing someone taking their life
and the life of someone else for granted;
there are times when we all wish
that we could just let go, drift off, and dream;
there are times when we all find
the pain that we are feeling too hard to bear,
and we all need to be given a dose of morphine.

My Poem ‘Christmas Time’

“So this is Christmas,
and what have you done…”
sang John Lennon on the radio
as I sat with my pen and open notebook,
as the sun shone through the windows
and reflected off the chrome panels
of a nearby building;
I was near an open door all the while –
but not for a second did I feel cold;
the Christmas songs kept playing,
the air was cozy,
and everybody around me
was locked in their own world;
the Christmas colours and lights
were bright and bold,
and just as I got to the end
of the first verse of my new poem
a familiar voice sang loud:
“Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!”

I sit. I stare. I blink. I smile.
I write. I think about how much
I have in common with the life of a sundial –
because I too would be nothing
without the light of the star from afar
that gives my life meaning
and endows me with all that I need
to be who I am supposed to be.

As Louis Armstrong sings
of the “trees of green”
and the “red roses too”
and the blue skies of our “wonderful world” –
I know, I see, I remember
all that he sang about
and what I too believe makes out planet
standout from any other
in the entire universe;
so often, I become both lost and overflowing
with words to describe
all that I see and all that I feel;
I do not know who I would be
if I could not write the language of my heart
on a page in connected verse of poetry.

“White Christmas” starts to play,
and instantly I am back in time
and I am imagining things that happened
so many years ago –
I remember the snow of my childhood,
I remember the happy times I spent with my family,
I remember imagining that if anybody
were to walk on the surface of the moon again
then of course I would;
I remember seeing true beauty
in fallen snowflakes
and knowing that there was more to me and to life,
and twenty years before I would ever have thought
to write anything that I would now
consider in any way poetic.

One last song plays
before I have to leave the place where I am now;
where I am going next I do not know for sure,
because I do not have a fixed plan –
however, as I think of a title
to sign-off my brand new chain of rhymes,
I decide to use the last words
of the song that I hear…
and as my poem is about the world of today,
about me, and is in itself a snap-shot of life –
this poem is about this moment,
and at this moment it is definitely
Christmas time.

My Poem ‘Never Rest’

Everybody has their own outlet;
everybody has their own place of worship;
everybody has their own way of sharing;
everybody has their own way of caring;
everybody has their own time
when they feel their most alive;
everybody has their own favourite way
of passing the time:
if I could be anywhere at this very moment,
I would love to be in a Jeep Cherokee
traveling down I-75 with the one I love
all the way to Tennessee-
listening to music from the 1980s and the 1990s,
as we enjoy every second of our drive
and the perfection of our ride.

We can all feel young as long as we want to;
we can all do the seemingly impossible;
we can all marvel at the brand new;
we can all make that life-changing call;
we can all be seen, we can all be heard,
we can all be free, we can all be
all that we say so easily with words;
we all remember, we all forget;
we all have felt a rush,
like the feeling of uplifting air
underneath the wings of a bird’s feathers;
we all at one time or another
have had to pass a test.

Life is a series of borders to be crossed;
everybody everyday wants to be happy;
a life in which ever day there are things
that you can have any second at no cost
is the one that we would all always want;
everybody has expectations
of how they would like something to be,
and then when life surprises you
from time to time in ways
that completely eclipse anything that you thought
you realize why it is important
that some things only happen once.

A great journey is made up of small
but important steps;
a happy life should be measured on smiles
and memories, not by miles or kilometers per hour;
a beautiful vision is both soul- and solar-powered;
an imagination like no other
is one that can go all day and all night
while harnessing a single powerful idea –
and at no point, until that idea has evolved
to the next level of its existence,
does the powerful mind of a dreamer ever rest.

My Poem ‘Seasoned’

Like the trees of an old forest,
like the face of an old man,
like the smell of an old leather jacket,
like an old song that always making
new fans of its artist or band,
I feel both young and full of life
and yet mindful and seasoned;
life has been inspiring me
since I was a child,
but now I understand
that for everything to be
there must be a reason.

When I was a child
my imagination was always my super-power;
making my dreams a reality
have gotten easier
as I have got older;
when I first began making art as a boy
my head and my heart
knew even then that
being an artist was going to be
my life-long forte:
I remember spending hours
drawing and painting
and loving every moment
that I spent making
and creating something new every day.

Art has always been a fascination
and a passion for me;
stories have always been to me
the greatest of escapes;
I have done so much,
I have thought so much,
I remember so much –
however, sometimes my memory does
on occasion compartmentalize;
I truly do not ever forget a thing,
but I admit that there are times
when I lack the gift of instant-recall –
you could say that I have a photographic memory,
but that it takes a certain stimuli
to bring back to mind
what I heard with my ears
and what I saw with my eyes.

My family has always held on to everything,
the thought of throwing anything useful
or something draped in memories away is alien to us;
I have learned over time
that everyone at times must refocus;
my family has had so much happen to it –
if most of what we had all been through
were written down one day
it would definitely be a best-seller;
like everyone, I am guilty of making mistakes
from time to time –
however, I try to not make the same mistake twice
and I endeavour always to be a fast-learner.

Everyone has a passion –
music, literature, movies,
games, traveling, dancing,
performing, chilling, cooking,
shopping, writing, photographing,
caring about the well-fair
of another living thing –
and for that passion they would do anything;
everybody has dreamed
that they could do something fantastic
and everybody is able and are capable
of performing a miracle for someone else
in their life more than once;
everyone should always be looking,
seeing, listening, hearing;
everybody should embrace time,
not fear its passing in the slightest –
because with time comes many amazing things
that can only be fully experienced
and appreciated by someone
who is seasoned.