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 “Celestial Love”

Let us take to the road
and we’ll go for a drive…
let us take out a boat
and we’ll sail upon the waves
of an ocean all day and all night…
let us take a plane
and we’ll fly to Spain…
let us take a hot air balloon
and we’ll drift above dark clouds
full of thunder and rain…
let us take a rocket
and we’ll launch into space…
let us float above the Earth in zero-gravity
and we’ll look down at everybody
and wave as we hold one another
in an out of this world embrace…
let us fall asleep side by side
on a starship to a solar system
that has two stars within it instead of one
and before we know it we’ll be waking up
and having to convince ourselves
that what we are seeing is better than a dream…
let us make a new home for ourselves
upon the surface of an alien planet
that looks like Earth but which
from orbit looks to be more blue than green –
and after we settle down upon
this new place of possibility
we’ll look up to the stars above
through a telescope and find
Earth’s flickering blue glow
and we’ll both look at one another
and agree that even in comparison
to all the wonders of the universe
there has never been two souls
who have always been meant to be,
because our life is a constant
celebration of our celestial love.

My Poem “Strange New World”

Every day is like a strange new world…
every day sometimes looks and feels
both similar and familiar,
and yet alien and extraordinary at the same time…
every day is like a journey into the unknown
for which we sometimes have no words…
every day sometimes feels so full of
the unexpected that we can come to
believe that we have slipped into
an existence that feels like another life.

Every day is an exploration of
the human condition…
every day we all have to venture
into the frontier of the world
that surrounds us sometimes with
no knowledge of who and what we will find…
every day can feel like a test, an exercise,
or a mission during which we all have to
make both big and small decisions…
every day can feel like a dream
or a creation of hope or fear of our mind.

We all need fantasy, just as much as
we all sometimes need a dose of reality…
we all need the wonder, the art, the joy,
the imagination, and the gift
of learning something, of seeing something,
of hearing something, and of going to somewhere
that we have never been before…
we all need to sometimes escape
within the pages to a book,
within the notes of a song,
or within the visual storytelling
of a TV show or a movie…
all that we can ask of ourselves,
especially in times when we feel like
we are living a life seemingly
beyond our control,
is to take one step at a time while we
learn how to live and to thrive
somewhere that feels like
a strange new world.

My Poem “The Comet”

As I watched the bright tail
of the comet streak overhead
I began to imagine all of the things
that had to have happened
since the creation of the universe,
since the disk of our galaxy came together,
since the formation of planet Earth,
and since the origin of humanity,
and how everybody and everything
has always been surrounded by
the darkness of space,
all the little things
and all of the big things
that had to combine to make up
the tale of everything –
and no matter the absence of colour that I see
I continue to smile because I know
that there are stars and there are nebulae
out there in the cosmos of the universe
that are like oases of light
and like gardens of life
which are composed of streams of matter
and energy that twist like ribbons
as they ripple like the waves of an ocean,
where stars are being born
every second that our world turns,
that are an example of how something
is always happening somewhere
in places where wonders beyond
the wildest of dreams are being realized –
and as I stare at the bright halo
and the streaking tale of the out
of this world interstellar snowball
I wonder how many other people
have seen this same remnant of
the beginning of the solar system
over the centuries since the journey
began for this particular comet.

My Poem “The Eyes of a Poet”

As the rain lashed down
on a cloudy day
I looked out the window
of the Diplomat café,
as a bright blue tram car
glided passed upon the rails
of the tram railway –
and as I did I immediately
found myself experiencing
a wave of inspiration grow within me,
which I knew almost instantly
that I wanted to savour,
to save, and to capture
so that it may endure
in some profound way.

Writers and artists are always looking
for a place where they can create
unimpeded by the distractions
of the outside world –
especially when they are first
starting out upon their artistic journey;
personally, I try not to box myself
into the corner of a particular room
and declare that there is only
one place and one way,
where, when, and how,
I can express what I want to say.

Writers and artists are constantly
finding themselves creating art
at every time of the day
and wherever they find themselves
caught in the shower of
shooting stars of inspiration,
because what artists become inspired by
is ultimately in the hands of fate,
and over the years I have
randomly found myself –
while staring at a sunset,
while sitting in a movie theatre,
while staring at a masterpiece of art
by Vincent van Gogh or Leonardo da Vinci –
absolutely and unfathomably
in a state of complete mesmerism
in which I felt like I could access
deeper layers of connection, life,
and an understanding about the art
that I saw and the artist
responsible for creating
what ultimately turned out to be
that something that would inspire me.

Artists and writers
are always chasing that once
in a lifetime spark
of artistic creativity
that will excite and unify
every one of their senses
and their instincts
and that will perfectly combine
to make something special
that people will never forget –
and being an artist is sometimes
like walking a line,
like crossing borders,
and like discovering
and delivering a message…
being an artist and a writer
is sometimes like being some kind
of an envoy, a peacemaker, a diplomat,
and someone who can occasionally see –
when they can look at all
the multiple possibilities
of something simultaneously –
that things become increasingly
more clearer when you
take a step back from something,
while still looking at it
and while still internalizing it,
however while secretly interpreting it
by using the eyes of a poet.