My Poem “Walkie Talkie”

Talking while you are walking,
walking while you are talking,
is a skill that not everybody
is able to perform both simultaneously
as well as effectively –
but there are of course some people
who do speak before they think
and before they are able to consider
how what they want to say
will be interpreted, internalized,
and how what they want to say
will impact whomever they
want to tell what is on their mind –
and not everybody at every time
of the day is fully capable
of performing the same multiple tasks,
at the same time, in exactly the same way.

Thinking and walking
go hand in hand…
daydreaming while watching
something exciting is
something we can all understand…
trying to do things that
are at complete opposite ends
of the spectrum of what is possible
can be more demanding than
at first thought…
acting on instinct can be exhilarating,
but at some point everyone and everything
has to take the time to think about
if what they are telling themselves
they want to do is truly something
that is achievable.

There is an old saying
involving the combination
of both talking and eating
that says that if you attempt
to do both at the same time
then you will ultimately end up
β€œdoing neither very well”;
however, people naturally
tend to do certain things
that might not seem like
they would jive with one another
when they are first acted up –
say listening to something
while talking at the same time –
but it is entirely possible,
with as much time and practice
as you can commit to doing something,
for anybody to become a professional
at doing two things at once:
like listening and writing,
singing and dancing,
saying and doing,
reading while watching,
and of course walking
while they are talking.

My Poem “More than we might know”

Christmas Day is but once a year,
however the way that some people
make us feel every day
is enough to make us what to cry
tears of love and joy
because we know how lucky we are to
have them close and near.

Christmas time is when people tend
to think about others more than usual,
and Christmas time is also
when people often also
tend to reflect back upon
everything that life has tested them with,
especially as we all grow older
and we remember things in the past
that we may have accidentally taken for granted.

Everybody is this life needs somebody
to hear them, to think about them,
to give them the gift of their time –
even is it is only in the form of
a greetings card that tells someone
that you were thinking about them,
because no one who has done so much
good for other people ever deserves
to be forgotten or left behind.

Time is precious…
people are vulnerable…
there are people in this world
who have lost everything
because of a natural disaster,
because of homelessness,
because life has not been kind to them –
and this time of the year is when
a large population of the world
considers what means the most to them,
and the greatest gift
that we can all give one another –
as members of the collective
human family of this planet –
is respect, peace, and an opportunity
for everybody to find happiness
while doing something
that gives their life meaning.

We can all be better people sometimes…
we can all be better at communicating
our feelings – however, there are times
when talking is the hardest thing to do,
especially when you feel like nobody
could ever understand
what you are going through…
we can all be better listeners –
however, the ability to fully listen
and to hear what someone is trying
to tell you is harder than you think.

We can all be there for somebody
in particular when they need
the gift of someone to be there for them,
to make time for them,
to embody the spirit of the season,
and to get them through the sometimes
harsh Winter of the Northern Hemisphere
and the sometimes uncomfortable Summer
of the Southern Hemisphere –
because no one is immune to life,
because everybody is human,
and it is important that we all
remember, as often as possible,
who we are, what we are,
how short our time to shine is,
and that it takes almost no effort at all
to be present in the life
of somebody who may needs us
more than we might know.

My Poem “Talking Flowers”

Did you know that flowers can talk?
Flowers talk to bees,
bees listen to flowers –
and together both flowers and bees
commit to a mutually beneficial
relationship of pollination
in order to create the sweet nectar
which some people collect
and convert into honey
which some people sell, consume,
and take great delight in
spreading upon their toast ever morning.

New seeds are planted, more flowers grow
and bloom, and new honeybees
are drawn to the song
and the buzz that certain flowers
are born with the innate ability
to be able to sing and to speak –
and so the cycle continues,
as it has done since the first flowers
of the first garden were first grew,
because flowers and trees are like
everything that grows and is alive:
even though every living thing
is an individual in their own right
everything in this world
is just another expression
of the face of nature
and everything has their own part to play
in the plan of all things.

In general, all living things
are always listening
and they are always speaking…
flowers and plants are like people,
and in so many ways they perfected
the art of living and reproducing
themselves long before we did,
which is why it is no surprise
that flowers and plants have long been
experts on how to live, how to grow,
and how to communicate
and how to proliferate effectively
and yet seemingly silently.

My Poem ‘Sights to see in Birmingham City’

Even from far-away
you can see the towers of the city on the horizon;
as you get closer to the centre of the city
the buildings both old and new glisten;
when you catch a glimpse of the spires
of Saint Martin’s church,
and of the shining disks that cover
the imposing Selfridges store,
you cannot help but be taken-aback by what you see;
when you climb the steps that lead
to the entrance to the Bullring,
that is but the start of a path
to things that always attract my attention
and capture my fascination
every time I see them
as I walk around the city.

I love walking up New Street,
from the famous bronze Birmingham bull
to the statue of Queen Victoria
that stands tall atop their plinth
at Victoria Square –
there are always musicians and street-performers
playing and performing hoping to draw people to them
so that they can bedazzle with the talent;
I love going into my favourite restaurants and stores –
in particular Starbucks, Waterstones,
and also my favourite bookstore ‘Foyles’
which to me is the jewel in the crown
of the newly-refurbished New Street Station –
and simply looking, perusing,
people-watching, and listening;
one of my favourite places to go in all the city
is the amazing and inspiring
Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery –
the exhibitions and the art to be found within
to me is always a treat to behold…
and another place I love to revisit is of course
the phenomenal new Birmingham library –
somewhere I have spent many an hour
enjoying every moment of walking through
the near-infinite number of books on their shelves,
and also sitting outside almost on the library’s roof
looking far and wide and also below
at the beautiful city beneath me.

I love walking the towpaths
of the canal-side near The Mailbox;
I love walking from one end of Broad Street
to the other and marveling
at the number of restaurants and bars
that can be seen as you follow the stars
and in the footsteps of the famous and the renowned;
I love how no matter if it is a sunny day or a rainy day
that I cannot deny that this city
constantly speaks to me and to my sensibilities;
I love those times when I can walk around,
or just sit down on a bench near St. Philips Cathedral
that stands at the heart of the city,
and allow my thoughts to runaway in my mind;
I love the many cultures, accents, colours,
and sounds that echo wherever you find yourself in town;
I love every time that I get to see the sights
that always inspire me in Birmingham City.

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My Poem ‘The Whispering Gallery’

Every Sunday,
bang on 10 o’clock in the morning,
the bells of St. Martin’s church
ring-out loud and far –
and every Sunday,
when I am standing and listening
in the most perfect spot
that can be found in all the city,
over time I have discovered
an amazing phenomenon…
just as every whispering gallery
that can be found in places
that are often places of silence
and peaceful serenity,
if you whisper a wish into the air,
and it is carried away on the wind
in the right direction,
then that same wish will come true one day
after having been delivered directly to heaven
by the wings of a listening angel –
and that almost silent prayer
will echo and create epic waves,
like an ocean being skipped upon by a stone,
and you will have been blessed –
even though the evidence of what has taken place
and by whom may have already disappeared without a trace.

The bells of St. Martin’s church ring for almost an hour –
the are a source of hope for many, and they have a power.
Church bells, to me, have always had a solemn beauty to them;
church bells are like the accent of a place of worship’s voice,
and I think they are wonderfully important;
church bells have a way of drawing people to them like a beacon;
you have never felt such a feeling like that
of being as close as you can be
to the breathtaking vibrations of sound
that are produced when ancient bells are ringing
and hammers are hitting their mark in a bell-tower.

The world is one big whispering-gallery;
the Earth has places on it
where the magical can be conjured into being
with the flick of a magic-wand
disguised as an ink-pen;
some people want something so much
but they are afraid to ask for help from anybody –
sometimes things can only be heard
when they are said in the first where
and at the right when…
so, I encourage anybody who feels something special
when they are somewhere,
even if that place may not look anywhere
that may be at all “somewhere to write home about”
to let their inner-most thoughts and wishes
be set free into the atmosphere
of the worlds biggest whispering gallery.

My Poem ‘The Good Listener’

I don’t know what it is about me…
Maybe it’s my face?
Maybe it’s my voice?
Maybe it’s my eyes?
Maybe it is my unimposing-demeanor, perhaps,
that draws people to me one-after-another,
like a firefly to candle-light?
I don’t know what it is,
but, for some reason, people believe
that with me and to me
they can allow whatever is on the tip of their tongue
and whatever is on their mind to be said and be set free.

I have lost count of the number of strangers,
who seemingly from out of nowhere,
have introduced themselves to me,
and have almost told me their entire life-story;
I have been sitting on a plane,
I have been sitting alone at a table in a cafe,
when more than one person has turned to me
and has told me their name –
and, not long after,
we have had a brief-but-meaningful conversation
that may have been the highlight of their day.

Questions… secrets…
questions like: what, to you, is the meaning of life?
secrets, like: how do I go home and be a real father
to my kids, and also be a true husband to my wife?

And in what form do I respond? And what is my response?
I listen. I let whomever it is who is talking to me be heard
and say aloud to me what they have not had the courage
to disclose and confess to anyone, before me, not once.

Just as I have always been a good reader of books,
I have always been a good reader of people, as well;
just as a book-cover captures and teases the inside of a book,
so does what a person wears and says out-loud
when they think that nobody is looking at them
and nobody is listening to them says a lot about someone –
not everything, of course, but there is still so much
from observing someone that you can tell.

A person’s consciousness has a lock to it,
just as every door has;
it is amazing the depths
and the number of levels that a person’s mind has;
everybody loves communicating what they are thinking
and how they are feeling, more so than they may know;
I have always said that anyone can be a writer –
in my opinion, to be a writer all you need to do
is open your heart, speak from your soul –
and the best way is to speak and to write
what you have been through, and what you know,
and watch the thoughts, the ideas,
and the words just flow.

They say that confession is good for the soul;
they say that when you fall in a hole
the best thing that can happen to you
is for someone to come along
who has been in the exact same position
and the exact same hole before
and who chooses to jump in the hole
you are in with you
because they know the way out;
I believe that sometimes
you have to lose something that you don’t need
to make yourself feel whole again;
I believe and I know that everyone in this life
deserves to be heard –
even those who do not exclusively
communicate with their mouths;
just as the choice to share something
to me shows that a person cares about something,
just as someone who is creative cares deeply about an idea –
I believe that the greatest thing that you can do in a day
is to listen to someone, and the best person you can be
to someone else is to a good listener.

TheGoodListener

My Poem ‘I am’

Words are powerful;
song and prayer elevate the words
from a book and give them new life;
words are what makes something
more amazing and more magical;
when spoken from the heart
and with a true explosion
of passion and feeling
words and language become spirit and light –
they become energy,
and even on a cloudy day
can make the world shiny and bright.

The divine is always listening;
there are angels in every place on Earth
constantly waiting;
the creator of all is always creating;
there is a voice that is constantly speaking.

None of us is every truly alone;
the one true believer walks among us
and does not rule in heaven
on top of a throne;
some people in need find asking for help
the hardest thing in the entire world;
every day the barriers and the borders
of both heaven and hell become blurred
with those that they share
with our world here on Earth.

When the light of creation first shone
upon the face of the Earth
that for the longest time
had been veiled in shadow…
when God gave humanity their chance
to be fruitful in the universe’ after-glow…
when the first words were spoken
and their meaning and their message
grew and spread like the vines of a rain-forest…
when the almighty blessed everyone
with the gift of choice…
everything and everybody became the variables,
the equations, the questions,
as well as the answers,
to the most epic of tests.

I believe that when the universe sparked into being,
when the first stars were born,
when the first galaxies were formed,
when the first planets gave rise
to the first intelligent minds
and to the first open eyes
who were able to see and understand
what language is and what some words truly mean…
with that birth of consciousness
followed something…
and every day, on every planet,
the lord of heaven tells us all in our own way
that even though they are the creator
and the way of all,
each of us are meant to find
our own way in our own time,
and no matter what
know how lucky we are
to have been given the life that we know –
and through Him, I know that I am.