My Poem “Love Is Like Dynamite”

Love is like dynamite…
love is a sometimes indefinable
feeling, energy, purpose,
connection, sensation, perfection,
that everybody knows and instantly recognizes
when they experience it coming over them…
love is like nothing else…
love is like a flash of light
that guides your way, day after day,
and keeps you wide awake at night…
love is true magic…
love is the true meaning behind the universe…
love can never be foretold, nor predicted…
love is a blessing and should
never be considered a curse…
love can make people do many things…
love only gets stronger as you commit further
and you dive deeper into the ocean of feelings
that you can’t deny that you feel for another…
love needs to be expressed…
love is a question, an answer, a test,
a way for someone to show themselves at their best…
love is a gift… love is infinite…
love transcends sex, colour, cities, countries,
distance, language, and worlds…
love is more than a word,
love is more than a feeling –
love, in its purest form,
is about finding bliss, joy, heaven on Earth,
when you aren’t looking for it,
and realizing the fundamental truth of the universe:
that nobody is ever truly alone,
and there is somebody out there in the world
for everybody to share an unbreakable bond with
who gives everything that someone has always wanted.

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My Poem “This is how it starts”

As we ring in a new year
there are fireworks, there are smiles,
there are wishes of hope, of joy,
and of endless hours of cheer…
As one year ends and as another year begins,
as the sun continues to perfectly rise and shine,
everybody hopes for the best days of their life
and they want every moment that they live
to be one that they will remember
as a time in their life
in which they were truly living…
As the world continues to turn
and change faster than we are able to perceive,
as the people that we have known all our lives grow older,
and as we all hopefully grow wiser,
everything around us shifts on its axis
and we all begin to realize
that every day is both a beginning and an end,
and the start of a new year can be
the first step that leads to wonders of light
that appear like stars that twinkle in the dark –
and for me that is how every first day
of every new year starts:
with a flash of light, like that of a burning spark.

Happy New Year! ๐Ÿ™‚

My Poem โ€œA December to Rememberโ€

It isnโ€™t December
until there is a flurry of snow…
It isnโ€™t December
unless the temperature outside
is below zero…
It isnโ€™t December
until Christmas songs
are playing on the radio…
It isnโ€™t December
until you look around
and you see sparkling lights
and colourful decorations wherever you go.

December is a month filled
with both joy and sadness…
December is a month when we think
of those who we have lost
and who we still miss…
December is like living within a bauble
hanging upon the limb of a giant Christmas tree…
December has always been a time
that has meant something profound to me.

I love the traditions of buying a real Christmas tree,
bringing it home, and then as a family decorating it…
I love December because it is when people
have a excuse to think about others and give…
I love what the true meaning of Christmas represents
and why it is important to keep close to your heart
the things and the people who are like no other…
Every year it is my mission for everyone I know
to make the month of December
a December to remember.

My Poem ‘Catching my breath’

The world is a crazy place,
sometimes I wish I could
transport myself high-above
and see the world
as an astronaut in orbit does –
beautiful and glowing green and blue
against the black backdrop of space…
sometimes, especially in a busy city,
it is hard to find an oasis of peace –
somewhere to go to get away
from the constant bombardment of sound,
somewhere wide-open:
like a park, or a forest of trees,
that you can walk through,
where you can smile to yourself
and close your eyes at the miracle
of being able to take your ease…
sometimes you just want to sit back and relax
and let the minutes and the hours stretch out
until you can’t tell them apart…
sometimes just owning a moment,
and swimming out into a metaphorical
subconscious-ocean, is just what you need –
you could simply just get your feet wet
by imagining you are sitting on a wooden boat-dock
and looking down at your own reflection in the rippling water,
or perhaps diving down to see
the coral-reef of your imagination
and then resurfacing with your head above water again
and realizing that you have traveled far.

We all need that place…
we all need that world within our world…
we all need to travel in different ways…
we all need a language that we know and understand:
art, music, sound, touch, a look, a smile –
finding the right words to say at the right time
is like completing a cosmic word-search.

We are all lighthouses guiding the way…
we are all sunrises and sunsets
to significant other people in a myriad of ways…
we are all messages in bottles
riding the world’s waves…
we are all looking at someone
and are being looked back on
by someone with a different face –
we are all both the observer
and the observed, you could say.

Inspiration does not always flow
as easily as water from a tap…
you could sit down and want something
to come to you and there is nothing there…
and then… zap! you get struck by something,
like a bolt of lightning,
and your eyes widen, your heart races,
and you create and you make something
that did not exist before,
and the energy and the art flows,
and you take a journey with it
all the way until it is something to you
that you would think of as if it were a new friend –
that is when you stop and you sit back
and you find and you finally feel
your heart-beats start to slow,
and you smile with joy,
as you put your hand up to your chest,
as you catch your breath.

My Poem ‘We are all one’

Joy may come in the morning for you
in more ways than you might expect –
someone with a passion
and a drive and a love for what they do
cannot wait to jump out of bed,
while someone who feels like
they do not have a purpose in life
might open their eyes
and then close them again quickly
and cover themselves up again
below the covers
like a bird putting their wing
over them as they rest
comfortably in their nest –
however, the truth is
that everybody has a role in life,
everybody is meant to be alive,
and everybody is born to be
just as they are –
everybody is a necessary source of experience,
knowledge, instinct, inspiration,
heat and light, like a candle burning in the dark.

We all go through a metamorphosis;
we all go through an identity-crisis;
we all go through doors to places
we do not always know where;
we all go through stages of re-evaluating
what our priorities in life are,
just as we all sometimes struggle
to pick-out what we want to wear;
we are all a creation
and made in the same guise as the divine;
we are all here to be something to someone;
we are all blessed from birth
with the gift of infinite possibilities,
even if we are not given an endless life of time;
we are all of our time
and no matter how you see yourself,
or how somebody else sees you,
never forget that we are all reflections,
we are all human, we are all
resonators of change and emotion;
life is a lesson in accepting the undeniable fact
that we are all one.

My Poem ‘Percussion’

The pitter-patter of raindrops
against a window early in the morning;
the foot-falls of steps
outside your door;
the dial-tone of a phone ringing;
the rumble of a crowd of people
reverberating over a floor.

The sound of drums;
the strike of lightning;
the impact of hand against instrument;
the synchronous movements
and almost-balletic arm accentuation
that make the musical performance of an artist
that much more exciting.

The voice of an instrument
that is brought to life by its player
as it was always meant
to be played and heard is magical –
the tone, the depth,
the range, the indistinguishable
call to rise of emotions
that only they can elicit
and evoke is phenomenal;
like the vocal-cords that vibrate
that allow someone to speak,
the unmistakable beat,
like that of a heart,
is its most effective
when it is allowed
to reach its natural peak.

No two ears hear the same;
no two players share the same gestures,
nor the same emotional connection
to a piece of music;
no two pieces of art
can coexist within the same frame;
every member of the same band
shares the same feeling
of being carried-away
and drifting like a flurry of snowflakes
on the wind.

The music of interaction;
the melody of harmony;
the natural cycle of repetition;
the actions of fluidity;
the language of notes;
the knowledge of keys;
the memory that never leaves;
the gift that comes with ease.

While there is still music playing,
while new songs are still being created,
while there is still the sound of waves crashing,
while new lovers of music are born
and want to become instrumentalists and percussionists,
the world will go on,
the Earth will play on and sing as-one,
the sources of all joy sadness
will continue to drum –
and those fluent in sharing
the music of the spheres of the universe
will want to continue to play
with all their heart the music
and the instruments of percussion.

My Poem ‘Living the dream’

Morning. Silence.
Blue sky. Sunday.
Sunshine. Green leaves.
The sound of flying birds and bees.
People having breakfast;
people cutting their lawn;
people still in bed
enjoying a well-earned rest;
people opening their eyes to the daylight;
people opening their mouths wide with a yawn.

Church bells ringing;
friends cycling;
music on the radio playing;
somebody somewhere
on the early morning ocean
sailing, loving, breathing, living.

Walkers, runners, riders,
painters, daydreamers, photographers,
embrace every moment of light and feeling;
diners, parishioners,
attend the same place of worship
and break bread together to prove
that they believe what they believe;
pilots, para-gliders,
balloonists, sky-divers
take to the air and defy gravity
and live the dream of touching the worlds ceiling –
people who just want to step away
from the rush of the world for a short time
and feel the amazing and the rejuvenating energy
of total and utter release.

People experiencing awe;
people feeling wonder;
people traveling far;
people feeling hunger.
I look at the world
and I see depths of colour;
I listen to what I hear,
and I hear sounds
from every length of the sound spectrum –
from water-drops in a pond
to the joyous explosion
of a child’s laughter.

Life is important;
life and purpose is individually indefinable,
and yet understandable, tangible,
as well as miraculously magical;
life can only be lived once;
life and dreams can sometimes be indistinguishable;
life is living and not worrying
about the things that people sometimes say
and the things that some people do;
life is reading, feeling, sharing,
and witnessing the dream of life come true.