Fall, 2018

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My Poem “Woodland”

You haven’t lived until you have been
up close to the flora and the fauna of a forest…
You have never breathed true fresh air
until you have walked through a paradise
of green parkland during the summer months…
You have never felt as blessed as me
until you have shared precious moments
with the one you love in peaceful solitude –
watching hummingbirds feed during the daylight,
or witnessing the lightning bugs
illuminate the darkness as they dance
through the air under the stars of night…
The face of nature is breathtaking…
I have seen sights beyond imagining…
As I have lived I have experienced things
that are like a time-capsule
which I can use to slow the passage of time,
to halt the march of the second hand of my life’s clock,
and to return me to the places above, below, and far-away:
among the clouds… underground… sitting on a wooden porch,
walking over a river with the love of my life, Melissa…
There were times when I was younger
when I regularly used to go out on my own
and be in a state of complete and utter awe
as walked amongst the amazing tall trees
of a thriving, lush, and inspiring woodland.

My Poem ‘Forest of Forever’

Many years ago now,
in my forest of forever,
I stopped, I stood,
I looked, I dreamed,
I listened to the song
that played as the wind blew
through the trees,
I was alone but surrounded
by ancient spirits –
even though there was no other
man, woman, or child
around to be found,
I knew that I was being visited
by the ghosts of poets
and the muses of fellow dreamers –
it was as if I were communing
with my younger-self,
as well as with my future-self
and the one writing this poem:
the one who sees
and the one who believes
that every thing that happens
happens for a reason.

As I write, as I think back,
as I use the infinite sight,
as I remember all the steps
that I have taken along my path,
I am again in the woods of yesterday
and breathing in the air
and being intoxicated by the smell of pine –
I am again standing in the sunlight,
as if I have managed to leap back in time,
and I remember all that I felt
and all that walked with me
when my poetic gift was still in its infancy,
and I can know and I can remember
things that have not yet happened
but have already happened
that I have been immortalized in my poetry.

I see in my memory a land far-away;
I see the beautiful face of the one person
in the entire who is the true light of my day;
I look in front of me and I see
the man who would be me;
I turn my head and I see a boy
with blond curly-hair
who was once and will always be me;
I see an incomplete circle;
I see an unfinished masterpiece;
I see a continuously ever-changing world;
I see a shadowed version of myself
looking at me from afar
from their vantage-point
from which they can see every incarnation of me.

I cannot hold-on to my flashback for too long
before I flash-forward again;
I continue to write as if all that was
had always been just the words
that I had written by my own hand
with my own pen;
I look out of my bedroom window
and I see a floating white feather
and I am reminded of the falling leaves
that will be always frozen in time
when I return in my mind
to my forest of forever.