My Poem “Masked”

Masks are everywhere these days
and they are being worn
by many people in many ways –
but some masks have been worn
for much longer and for more reasons
than for what and for why some people
now wear them for and for what
they now wear them
to protect themselves from.

The masks that people wear
every day, sometimes for years,
look like a face that you might
remember and recognize –
but beyond, behind, and below
that mask of skin and muscle
often lies the real person:
someone who may be crying out
from inside a deep and dark tunnel
where they are troubled by
thoughts, feelings, and emotions
that at times of intense trauma
make them feel like they are
a prisoner within the cell of a prison
the walls of which no one else
could ever possibly understand.

People often wear masks
which have smiles upon them –
however, in reality, the true face
that they are wearing on the inside
is one like that of a sad clown
with tears running down their face
and ruining the makeup that they wear
to continue to sell the facade
that helps them not break down
physically, mentally, and emotionally
whenever someone gets too close
for comfort and they start
to stop and stare.

Wearing masks is not a new thing,
however the wearing of material masks
has become more normalised
and is more prevalent than ever…
people often wear emotional masks
so that they can go through life
and are not constantly being asked
whether they are alright
or whether there is something the matter.

Things like the physical pain
and the psychological anguish
that people have to daily cope with
are easier to hide when seen
from far away but they are harder
to disguise when seen up close…
some people need to wear masks,
because who they reveal themselves to be –
perhaps when they are alone
in the shadows of their bedroom
and listening to the music
of their favourite artist,
when they can finally let
their inner-self be free –
is often not the same person
who they want to see,
or want to be seen,
in reflection, or by anyone,
because the face of who
they really are is that of someone
whom only they know
and whom only they know how to be.

My Poem “Never Forget A Face”

Some people are better at remembering names…
some people are better at remembering places…
some people are better at remembering numbers –
and then there are people, like me,
who are better at remembering faces
and at spotting the various distinguishable
features about a person…
once upon a time, people who had the innate gift
to be able to pick a face out of a line,
or a file of people, were sought-after –
however, in this day and age of the future,
the technology to be able to pick
a face out of a crowd has been invented
to catch the likeness of someone
and instantly reveal a person’s identity…
in years gone by, people used to take photographs
and collect them in photo-albums
to preserve the memory of something,
somebody, at some memorable point in time –
and though people still do take photographs
and collect them together into albums,
pictures taken now are mostly collected
and organised digitally…
remembering people used to be more of a tactile act,
paying tribute to someone used to be more like a pilgrimage –
but now that technology has made the world
relatively smaller, in a sense, and more connected,
people can easily reach out in some way
and talk to people far away directly and immediately…
technology has made communication between people
easier and more readily available,
and it has made it possible to share
what is on your mind with a countless number
of different people from all around the world –
even those who live and work in space…
however, I believe that no matter how
technologically advanced we become as a world
there will always be a need for those people
who have a natural talent about them
to do something amazing –
be it the ability to run fast,
the gift to be able to tell incredible stories,
the miracle to be able to write poetry
and make their own kind of music,
or the skill to be able to never forget a face.

My Poem “A World of Time”

A world of time… a world of faces…
a world of life… a world of places…
a world of mountains… a world of waterfalls…
a world of fountains… a world of the very small…
a world of the very tall…
a world of intelligence… a world of beauty…
a world of providence… a world of poetry…
a world of imagination… a world of dreamers…
a world of interconnection… a world of believers…
a world of vastness… a world of colour…
a world of wanderlust… a world of desire…
a world of love… a world of light…
a world of worshipers of the sky and the heavens above…
a world of day and a world of night…
a world of history… a world of hellos and goodbyes…
a world of symmetry… a world of synchronicity
all living the dream of their life
and all doing what makes sense to them
in a world of time.

My Poem ‘The Beach’

It has been a beautiful day;
it has been a day to remember
in so many ways;
the sparkling and the warm sand
beneath my feet that I am sitting on
feels amazing;
the glistening golden sea
that looks as if it could be
the surface of the sun –
because it looks in every way
like an ocean of pure energy –
is breathtaking;
as I look out and I see
the most beautiful and unbroken blue sky,
my heart skips a beat;
as I close my eyes,
I am transported in my mind
to a deserted island,
surrounded by palm trees –
in my imagination, I am a castaway
living a life free to be
whomever I want to be –
I have no worries,
I have no distractions,
I am self-sustaining
and I live off and alongside nature
and every day I walk my island paradise
and I swim in the beautiful blue sea;
I read the books that I brought with me,
and I daily write down what I see –
what I think about and what I feel
about life in my journal and diary;
I listen to the sound of the waves
and each one is like the voice of an old friend
stopping by to say ‘hello’;
I hear the music of my youth
playing from out of nowhere;
and when I think about the outside world,
and about my friends and family living their lives
far away, their faces appear
as if sculpted by the billion of grains
of sand that I see below me.

My hair is long;
my beard is substantial;
my skin is brown;
my home is a hand-built house
of cut down trees that has a roof of green
and hard-wearing leaves;
from my favourite spot,
looking out at my favourite view,
I have seen unimaginable sights:
dolphins, turtles, whales;
just off the coast, below the waves,
there is the most stunning
and beautiful coral reef.

To me, this place is heaven;
to me, this life could not be anymore perfect;
to me there is nowhere else in the entire world
where you could see the sun rise and the sun set,
and lay down on your back and see
a 360-degree view of the Milky-way galaxy’s
infinite and magnificent stars
shining their incredible and magical light,
in a place that is in every way
the definition of idyllic.

In my daydream, I look to the oncoming waves
and I see something bobbing up and down
before being washed up on the beach in front of me
and within touching distance of the toes of my feet;
I am not phased by the sight of the plastic bottle
and the evident message on a piece of paper
that is contained within –
however, when I reach down for the bottle
and I unscrew the lid and I reach in
and pull out the piece of paper,
it takes me awhile to realize
the messages’ meaning
because of how profound
the four-words of it are,
it takes a while to sink in.

I am brought back to reality in a flash!
As I look at the world, and to the sea,
everything looks even more stunning
and beautiful than it had appeared before.
Still with the message from my daydream
echoing in my mind like a bell,
I decide to write the same message
in pen on a torn-out page
from my nearby journal…
I write the same message
in the same way as it had appeared to me
only seconds before in my imagination,
and then I put the message
in an empty bottle of water
that I had brought with me earlier,
I stand up,
I run towards the ocean
and I throw my message in a bottle out
as far as I can
for someone to find in the future,
for someone to discover and read;
and then I sit back down
and I watch the sea again,
and I am again taken away
to a far-away place –
all the while, I am sitting in the sun
on the sand of this gorgeous beach.