As I walk through the shadows
and the streaks of sunlight
on a bright and beautiful Sunday morning,
as I listen to the sound of birdsong,
as I watch the ducks and the geese
awaken and then glide effortlessly
across the water of a nearby pond,
as the multiple white trails of jet planes
can be seen creating their own
patterns across the blue sky above,
I am once again reminded of how much
there is to be grateful for -
while I am also reminded of
what has been lost and who,
and what, will continue to stand
the test of time and nature.
As I look at the numerous green leaves of trees,
as I look at the intricacy of the petals of the flowers,
as I look at the blades of grass
as they move passively after
being touched by the tenderness
by the gentle breeze,
as I look across the rolling fields
and I see hay bales waiting to be collected,
I think back to simpler times
when I lived as if there was no tomorrow
and when I took the presence of people
in my life for granted without even knowing it.
As I see the poetry of life all around me,
as I glimpse moments of timelessness,
as I witness instances that make me
reflect upon the past, as well
as the world of the now,
I wonder about how far I have come
and how far I still have yet to travel,
and how my experience of life
is unique to me and to me alone -
but I also continue to feel as if,
though I am on a solo journey of discovery,
I have been, and I will always be, reminded
of the incredible connection that I have
always felt to this world of colour, beauty,
inspiration, stories, and change
that shines even amongst the other planets
of the heavens above, because to me it is
a haven of life and a beacon of light.
haven
My Poem ‘The Umbrella’
The greatest escape on a rainy day,
the best cover to tie you over
from the lightning and the thunder;
whenever, wherever, you are
something akin to the sun of a Summer’s day;
a perfect oasis and the most serene place
of peace of mind and spirit;
that which when you hear it playing
is literally music to your ears,
that is personal –
but can also be shared in a different way
with people that you are in constant contact with,
that both stimulates all kinds of emotions and tears –
the thing that is so intrinsic to you
it is almost a part of your soul;
the coat of protection
that helps you brave the winter’s cold.
Like the roots of a tree,
like the canopy of a forest,
like the ground beneath all of our feet,
like the constituents of a bird’s nest,
we all have things above us, below us,
and around us, that ground us,
and that inspire us and amaze us
over and over, and without them
we would not be who we want to be,
and we would not be blessed with life’s
invisible, natural, but always present, poetry.
When the rain stops falling,
when the clouds part
and the sun shines again,
when life emerges from where it has been hiding,
as the writers continue to drive
the swirls and the course
of the ink of their pens,
when the Earth settles
and a brand new set of ripple effects
echo throughout the world,
like raindrops falling on the water of a pond,
when new experiences and new thoughts
accentuate and strengthen already deep-seated bonds,
when you need a shelter to wait for a break in the weather…
take out, unveil, open again,
that which has always served to be your refuge
and your constant umbrella.
Mark The Poet 