When you grow up with nothing you really do appreciate everything - however, everybody always has something, everybody always has someone, everybody always has moments that they look back on and people from their life that stand out because they had a profound effect on them... when some people are born they are surrounded by shiny things - but sometimes little to no love to be found; when some people are born they do not know that in comparison to other people of the same age their parents do not have the same means to give them what other children have - but it doesn't matter because what they have and what they will always have is a connection, a bond, a hidden but important history and a tapestry that only they know. When we want to discover more about ourselves we look in, we look out, we look back - just like astronomers looking up to the starlit sky of the cosmos and the infinity of space and the wonders to be revealed - and we try to recapture times, experiences, relationships, feelings; but once something has happened it is always hard to see and to recount every detail of everything, because our own internal storyteller has a way of dramatising and often romanticising things in such a way to make them seem better or worse than they were. When a person lives their life they always discard pieces of themselves that they have collected and acquired over the years - fingerprints that could be used to identify them, such as: messages, photographs, souvenirs, memories - things that though they may have wanted to lose, they kept a hold of because they still felt a longing to return to the same place and the same time, with the same people, they once visited, and loved, and might still love. When someone's world implodes there are always fragments of them and the world that they knew strewn in every direction and left for others to come along and pick up afterwards and continue their journey in some way - such as incorporating them into a story, or repurposing them and recycling them so that they can be used over and over again - and all my life I have witnessed this and I see the value in using what others no long have a reason to keep, and now that I am older and I fully understand what in life truly matters I know what it means to take the bits and the pieces of other people's lives and fold them into our own, because there is so much to be learned from picking up seemingly random things and putting together a new puzzle - especially to those who are adept at using their imagination and creating new stories from the tatters of others.
Imagination
My Poem “In The Zone”
Usually when I am getting from A to B from the West Side to the East Side of one of my favourite cities, when I am alone, I am always in "The Zone"... usually I am quick on my feet - but all the while I am always looking around at what I see and what jumps out at me as I travel down the many interconnected paths and streets... usually I am thinking, listening, feeling, and taking in everything that every thing and every one is constantly transmitting and broadcasting like a megaphone... usually when I am making the most of my free time - when I am not watching a film at the cinema, when I am not shopping in an entertainment store or a bookstore, when I am not writing in my favourite cafe - I am just walking around somewhere I know like the back of my hand and somewhere I could navigate with my eyes closed, so much so I probably do just that in my dreams... usually I do not anticipate seeing someone I know; however, occasionally, because of mere chance, coincidence, or perhaps by design, I will be stopped in my tracks by the sound of my name being uttered by someone who knows me and I momentarily find myself at a loss for words until my racing thoughts catch up with the reality that I see... usually I do not have a definitive direction or a previously planned path that I wish to travel down - because like a bird that can sense the magnetic field of the Earth I use my instincts to draw me to where the universe is calling me to be... usually when I am doing anything - whether I am walking around a city, or sitting down writing with my pen or tapping away at the letters of a keyboard - I am on the hunt for inspiration in all it's multiple forms, and I am never left empty-handed or empty minded whenever I return to the sanctuary of my home... usually when I am on the move and making my time in the big wide world last I am unapologetically and occasionally oblivious to most things other than my thoughts, because most of the time I am in the zone.
A Poem A Day #310: Away We Go
A Poem A Day #26: Imagine
A Poem A Day #4: Bigger on the Inside
My Poem “The Wildest of Dreams”
When I was young the world appeared to be
too big for my mind to comprehend…
when I was young I believed that if
I stayed in one place, doing the same thing,
then I could make something
last forever and never end…
when I was young I loved exploring
the world around me and drawing upon
the people around me for love and joy,
and when I needed my nearest and dearest
I was never left disappointed.
When I was young I read books,
I watched TV shows, I marveled at movies,
I listened to music that left such
an impression on me that to this day
every time I hear a certain song
I am instantly spellbound by its magic…
when I was young I imagined
what I would do and who I would become
when I was older, more experienced,
and hopefully a little wiser –
and now that I am older, after having seen
more of the world, and after having met people
from all walks of life all around the world,
on many occasions I have found myself
having moments of clarity, of inspiration
and insight into who each of us are,
how we should treat each other,
and how lucky we are to live
in the here and in the now –
rather than a hundred years before or after.
When I was young I could never
have imagined living in a world
surrounded by and connected to
an invisible web that can make
dreams come true and can be the place
where people go to find everything
and everyone – from a book to a film,
from a friend to a fiancé,
from a kitchen sink to a television,
from a celebrity to a spiritual guru…
when I was young the future seemed far away
and I did not have that much love
for patience, nor poetry –
however, now that I am older,
I realize that the one gift that has
kept me going, kept me dreaming,
and has kept me on the straight and narrow,
is the blessing of growing up with
the cherished abilty to be able
to instantly see the forest through the trees
and believe possibilities beyond
the wildest of all dreams.
My Poem “I love books”
I love that books are still being written…
I love that books are still being read…
I love that books are still being listen to
while people are driving,
while people are walking,
while people are sitting in a chair,
or while people are lying down in bed…
I love that books are still physical objects
that people from all ages can hold,
feel, and marvel at the art of
as they flick through their pages…
I love that books are still filled with stories
of characters that do not always have
an accurate description of how they
talk or how they look,
so undividual readers have the gift
of being able to imagine what characters
sound like when talk as well as
paint their own picture in their mind
of how certain characters appear…
one of the things that I love
about the act of reading, as well as
the art of coming up with a brand new story,
is the power that people have
to be able to generate figments
of their own imagination that are
reconstitutions of the familiar,
the recognisable, the known,
the big, the small, the significant,
and the things from our memories
that mesmerise us,
as well as so much more –
but, to me, it is the magic of words
that lies at the heart of why
I will always love books.
My Poem “Sunbeam”
The afternoon light of the sun
shone down upon me
as I sat looking out of the window
at the world going by,
and just as I began to close my eyes
and I let out a deep sigh
I felt this instant rise of inspiration
and exhilaration that caused my heart to beat fast,
my thoughts to become enlivened,
and my imagination to become enlightened.
I felt like a flower that unfurls its petals
at the beginning of the day
as soon as they are touched
by the energy of the sun’s rays…
I didn’t know how much I needed
the gift that the sun bestowed upon me
until I was sitting there
and my poetic soul was reawakened.
There are moments when even
the most hopeful of humanity
feel low on inspiration,
weighed down by emotion,
and even lost and bereft of love –
but then a stream of light
that had to travel from 93 million miles away
arrives and gives a new burst of life
and reignites the overactive thoughts
of someone with a kaleidoscope of dreams
like that of the spectrum of colour
found within a sunbeam.
My Poem “My Poetic Journey”
When I first began my journey
as a poet, as a writer, as an author,
I was a self-proclaimed
“Poet of the Sphere” –
however, over the years, I would
definitely have to admit that
I have become quite “The Rambler”
and I am so glad that I am!
I am so glad that the spark of creativity
and imagination that first arrived into my life
over a decade ago still continues
to guide me to places, to subjects,
and to sources of poetry that I have
written about and I have included in every one
of my fiction and non-fiction publications.
Over the last ten years
I have learned so much about myself,
about the world, and about the art of language
and the magic of words that I adore…
over the last ten years I have seen things,
I have experienced things,
and I have written about things
that I could never have imagined before…
over the last ten years
I have met people who have influenced
the way that I conceive and understand
the world of poetry that we are constantly
surrounded by that never stops
molding and colouring our thoughts…
over the last ten years
I have made mistakes, as everybody does –
but I have also come to realise
that mistakes and missteps
need to be made in order for us all
to have epiphanies of wonder
that open up within our mind
like the petals of a flower
or like some kind of interdimensional door.
I have written hundreds of poems…
I have written thousands of words…
I have had a million ideas
since I first started writing
while looking for answers
to the universe’ most inspiring questions…
I have had many unforgettable moments
since I first felt the poetry within my soul
cast itself upon a blank page for fear that
if I did not my heart would literally burst.
Every time I write something
it always feels like I am attempting to describe
a profound vision or a vivid dream…
every time I have written a poem
or a story over the last ten years
to me it has always felt like
I were telling a story as well as
writing a chronology to capture
every moment of my poetic journey.
My Poem “Perseverance”
The perseverance of imagination
is what gives an artist their muse…
the perseverance of an extraordinary idea
is what inspired the first philosophers,
the first explorers, the first inventors,
the first daredevils, the first pilots,
the first men to set foot on the moon…
the perseverance of a team of dreamers
is what has propelled all the man-made
exploratory robots launched into space
to get close up eye-views of the planets
of our solar system and has led to trails
of human built wheels to leave their mark
upon the dusty copper coloured
surface of the planet Mars.
Perseverance is having the strength
of mind to decide to not give up
no matter the distance that has to be crossed…
perseverance is moving forwards despite
others having reservations about your plan
because you know with all that you are
that not following your heart
would be a sacrifice with too high of a cost…
perseverance is finding answers to questions
that were once thought to be irrevocably lost…
perseverance is thinking about the potential
future of everyone on Earth instead of anchoring
yourself to the ideals of the distant past.
The perseverance of life is why there
is so much diversity of species
that is unique to this beautiful planet…
the perseverance of light is why
stars continue to shine long after
their life-span has come to an end…
the perseverance of spirit is why
singers continue to sing,
why painters continue to paint,
why actors continue to act,
why dancers continue to dance,
why people listen to music, fall in love,
and often find themselves living in a trance.
The secret source of success
is not achieving more of something
than somebody else –
the secret of true success is realising
what it takes to do what has to be done,
what it takes to make it through the hard times,
why it is important to believe in yourself,
why it is important to believe in others:
because it is remarkable what extraordinary
feats can be achieved by people
when they are inspired and they are compelled
by the power of perseverance.
Mark The Poet 