My Poem ‘If you only knew’

If you only knew
how much I think about you,
what I feel for you,
how much I would do for you,
and what and whom I see
when I look at you –
then you would know beyond any doubt
that my love for you
was and is beyond any miracle
or dream that could ever come true.

Instant love; infinite hope;
infatuation with an angel from above;
intoxication that no one else
could ever feel or ever know.

If you only knew how happy you make me;
if you only knew how much I can feel you
constantly inside of me;
if you only knew the dreams
that I have of you and me;
if you only knew how much
without you there would be no me.

When I see your face,
I feel like I am weightless in outer-space;
when I hear your voice,
every part of me rises high
in a state of rejoice;
when it is just us,
the blood in my body begins to rush;
when I awake at sunrise,
I see you and only you with my
ever-changing green-to-blue poetic eyes.

If you only knew that to me you are a star;
if you only knew that I would do anything
to keep you from harm;
if you only knew just how beautiful
and amazing you are…
I just wish that I could show you
how much I love you –
however, until I can,
this poem is my way of telling you
and showing you that you are more special
and precious to me than any words could ever describe…
if you only knew.

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My Poem ‘Selfie’

Long before the ‘selfie’ was the “selfie”,
long before we used to take pictures of ourselves
with our cameras and share them with our friends,
the ‘selfie’ used to be known as the ‘self-portrait’ –
and, to this day, it is a way
for an artist to show people
what they look like so they can see
who they are, where, and when;
so, the so-called ‘selfie’
has been around for hundreds of years –
however, instead of using paint
to create our self-portraits,
we now use our reflections
as they appear in mirrors.

It is a time-honored tradition
to take pictures of ourselves,
and to me it is in no way egotistical
or self-indulgent;
it is the most important thing
to capture memories and to show how
someone appeared when they had moments to remember,
and when they were happy and in full-health –
and that is why I believe
the self-portraits that we capture and take daily
are brilliant.

If you are comfortable to take a photo of yourself,
it just shows that you are happy in yourself
and how you look;
those who don’t have the same level of self-acceptance
in their appearance would seldom choose
to take a picture of themselves,
because there is something about them
that they would change if they could.

There is nothing wrong with taking a photo of yourself,
especially if the reason that you are taking the picture
is because their is no one else around
to take a photo of you;
people have been posing for pictures
since cavemen were captured on cave-walls
in paintings of hunters hunting gazelles;
if you have a camera in-hand
and you want to show someone what you look like
in a second, why wouldn’t you?

Self-portraits are art;
in this day and age,
you can create a self-portrait instantly;
self-portraits are our signature
and our unique mark;
self-portraits may no longer be called ‘self-portraits’
today in the digital age –
however, they are still what they were,
even if they now have a new same:
the “selfie”.

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My Poem ‘Tableau’

The music stops.
Time stands still.
You could hear
the sound of a pin drop.
Everyone and everything
is motionless
and as statuesque
as anyone could ever hope to be.
I look around where I am,
and I see the many different faces of people
who are in the exact same place,
at the exact same time, with me;
I was searching for inspiration,
however it looks like it has found me.

People come to the same place –
but, more often than not,
for different reasons;
I come here to write, to observe,
to listen, to enjoy the atmosphere,
and also to drink some coffee –
however, I can see that even though
there are parallels in people’s lives,
everybody is here under a different guise.

I scan the space where I am in a flash,
and I make instant observations of the people
sitting at all the tables:
some people are talking,
some people are reading,
some people are drinking,
some people are in the middle
of a moment of laughter,
and some people look as if
they are on their way to leaving;
some people look happy;
some people look sad;
some people look over-joyed;
some people look like
they are students from university;
some people look at home where they are sat;
some people are looking in at us all
through the window that separates
the inside from the outside.
Some people look incredibly fashion-conscious;
some people look religious;
some people look like they are on their way to work;
some people look as if they are reading something
that they need to learn.

Most people are wearing the same colours –
black, blue, and grey,
appear to be the predominant palette of choice;
however, there are small touches
being worn by people that set them apart
and show their inner-personality and voice.

Reality snaps back.
Time starts moving forward again.
People continue with their lives.
That frozen moment moves
from being the present to the past;
words are spoken;
people continue their conversations;
and at that instant,
there is the most intense
and extreme explosion of light.

The world is a work of art;
the masterpiece that is life
is a canvas that changes in infinite ways –
by the moment, you can see, feel, and think,
so much within the time of the beat of a heart;
life moves so fast,
and sometimes the only way
that you can truly appreciate
the tapestry of existence
is to have a moment of true stillness –
when you can look at the world
and see it like a tableau.

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My Poem ‘Turned Around’

While in the woods,
I got lost, I got turned around, and I lost my way;
while in the woods,
my path disappeared like pavement drawings
after a shower of rain;
while in the woods,
the wind blew through the trees;
while in the woods, time froze;
while in the woods,
there wasn’t a definitive direction for me to see;
while in the woods,
I found myself somewhere I did not know.

While in the woods, I heard distant noises;
while in the woods, my own potent survival instincts
focused every and all of my choices;
while in the woods, I walked past a tree
that looked as if it had been burned from the inside out,
as if it has been struck by lightning;
while in the woods, as I walked further,
I knew that the day was getting later,
because of the darkening of the day-lighting.

While in the woods, with every step that I took,
the colour of the leaves on the ground got darker and darker,
and after a time it looked as if I were walking on, and in, space,
because everything was black;
while in the woods, there were no signposts,
or anything that I or anyone could use as a marker,
and as my perception of time disappeared,
it did cross my mind for an instant
that I may never make it back.

While in the woods, the moon was the only source of illumination,
and even though it was an aid to me,
it still could not tell me where I should go;
while in the woods, you hear things rustling all around you,
but because there is hardly any light to see by,
knowing what might only be inches away from you
is something that you turn over in your imagination;
while in the woods, you feel the hairs on the back of your neck
stand on-end, and you wonder if, at some point,
you may not notice an obstacle right in front of you,
that might trip you up and send you head over toe;
while in the woods, you feel like you could walk for hours,
because your body and your mind
know that they should not be here after dark,
and all feelings of hunger or exhaustion
become distant memories and do not cross your mind for a second,
and as soon as you lose any semblance of sight,
all of your other senses unbelievably and radically become heightened.

While in the woods, you feel more deeply,
and your thoughts become louder;
while in the woods, and alone, your inner-voice becomes audible,
as you start talking to yourself,
and even the breaking of the tinniest of twigs
sounds like the roar of a crashing boulder.
While in the woods, you forget why you are in the woods,
and you ask yourself questions
that you might never have thought to ask at any other time before,
and may never ask those same questions again afterwards in the future,
but at the time you are asking them they are incredibly profound.
While in the woods,
you eventually find yourself in the very spot where you entered,
which may seem like a life-time ago,
however in reality you may discover that the time
is not what you think it is,
and the person that is you is not the one of the same mind,
and no longer focused on the same things,
as the you who walked into the woods,
and who somehow got turned around.

My Poem ‘Take Away’

Sometimes you just want things fast and quick;
sometimes you can’t wait for what you desire;
sometimes you wonder of yourself:
if you rely so much on something,
does that make you an addict?;
sometimes you just have to have something,
to feel the rush that it gives you –
like passing your hand through the flame of a fire.

Waiting is a test of patience;
deciding on something is usually rudimentary;
anticipation can only fuel
what will be your final pleasurable response;
the arrival of what you crave
is one of the most satisfying sensations there could ever be.

We all know that we should savour every moment;
we all know that a special time cannot ever be repeated;
we all feel a tinge of sadness when an experience is over,
because we know deeply what it meant;
we all miss the years, summers, Christmases,
dreams, friendships, kisses,
and care-free laughs that we had when we were a kid.

Things come, things go;
we all need to be recharged in some way sometimes,
like a solar-powered invention that needs the light of the sun;
we all need to see what nature is always happy to show.
We all need a wave of momentum to carry us through every day;
we all need an idea in our minds to change the way we think,
in even the smallest of ways;
we all need to remold ourselves sometimes,
as if we were made out of clay;
we all sometimes need the instant emotional
and physical take-off that can only be had
from a take away.