My Poem ‘Love is an understatement’

Could a single word
every truly describe
the sparkle of belonging
and the beautiful infinity that you see
in the love of your life’s eyes?
Is it ever possible to understand
the reason why the stars shine so bright
and yet are so far away?
Is there anything more incredible
than sharing the miracle vista of a sunrise?
What can you say when you have said so much
and yet there is so much more to say?

There you are…
there is your face that I always see;
there is my star in the dark,
there is my heart’s desire,
there is my soul-mate
who makes me Me;
there you sit staring back at me;
there I go imagining myself with you
and you with me;
there you are, my incredible angel;
there before my eyes
I see the love of my life,
and you are so phenomenal
you are beyond beautiful.

A look can speak volumes;
words only have power
when they are understood;
true love is like a flower
when it blooms;
when your heart beats for someone else
you feel like you are in the middle
of an intense emotional flood
that gives rise to tears,
makes your thoughts form
and then pop like soap bubbles,
and makes you feel like you are on fire,
and you literally cannot hold back
the rush of your blood.

The moment that I saw you
something changed in me;
the moment that I told you
that I loved you
was only eclipsed in my mind
by the moment when you told me
that you loved me;
the moment that I first heard your voice
all that completed me
and guided me from that instant
was the melody and the lyrics of your song,
and I have replayed that magical moment ever-since;
you are my princess,
and I will always be your prince;
thinking back to the start of everything,
I always knew that our meeting each-other
and us being together was no accident –
in fact, I have proof that you were heaven-sent;
to use only one word to describe what you mean to me
and how you make me feel would be impossible,
because the only word that comes close is ‘love’ –
but just saying that Love is what I feel for you
ultimately would be an understatement.

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 ‘I Look Above’

Above my head,
caught in the branches of a tree,
I see a red balloon –
a former gift and token of love
from one person to another on Valentines day –
that had floated away,
so that it could be seen by me,
so that it could inspire me,
so that I could start a new poem,
while looking at it,
as I wonder where it came from,
who it used to belong to,
who bought it, and how long it will be as it is,
as it was always meant to be –
and as with most things that I witness and see,
I know that the red balloon in the tree
will only be a sight to see
that is temporary.

Above my head, I see clouds of white
that look like a frozen blanket of snow hovering in the air;
above my head, I can hear an invisible airplane –
invisible to sight but not sound,
and the unmistakable noise of travelers on their way;
above my head, there is always something
that I can look up at for hours, and simply stare;
above my head, is a dream of an endless, perfect, day.

As I look above, I remember being above –
I remember being among the clouds
and imagining the sensation of flying like a bird;
as I look above, just as when I remember looking below,
I am frequently lost for words
and in full belief and feeling
that I have all that I could ever want,
and there is nothing more to life
that I need to see or know.

I look above a lot;
I look above, because I cannot yet imagine
seeing or knowing enough;
I look above, because I am reminded
every time that there is more
to a small pin-prick of light
than there might at first appear –
just as there would be more to see
for an extraterrestrial astronomer
looking at the Earth from their observatory
and seeing only a faint blue dot.
The sky is just a veil
to many wonderful and magical things
that cannot be seen with the naked eye,
and that is one of the reasons
that I will continue to look above.

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