This place cannot be.
This face I cannot see.
This feeling will kill me.
This beating in my chest must be set free.
This fire will inflame the world.
This desire is beyond all words.
This one was not the first,
but they will be the last.
This man has met the Angels of Heaven,
and the demons of hell,
and has been to the sun and back.
This miracle is not perfect.
This poem is the pulse of a poet.
This is my poem, this is my “Sonnet”.
love
My Poem ‘The Wonder City’
I don’t know if anyone
could ever say enough or all
about New York City,
“The Wonder City”,
in every respect –
to me, it is a perfect place:
a place of inspiration,
beauty, and infinite opportunity;
a place for anybody and everybody;
a place that I have not seen for a long time,
but a place I still dream about and think about,
which is constantly calling to me.
I knew New York City was important to me
the moment that I saw it,
I knew I loved New York City
from the moment I saw the skyscrapers of its skyline
through the window of the taxi;
I knew I would not be the same person
after having lived, breathed,
and become a part of New York City;
I knew I did not want to leave,
and I wanted to return as possible,
when a tear fell down my cheeks
at the thought of all the incredible memories I made
in the place that no matter what time of the day it was
was always brightly lit.
The Statue of Liberty, the Empire State Building,
the Rockefeller Center, Central Park,
the New York Subway, Fifth Avenue, Sixth Avenue –
everything I saw, everybody I met,
was beyond my imagining, and instantly I knew
that New York City was the one place on Earth
where I would feel at home living;
it is hard to describe and explain
why New York City means so much to me –
every second I was there I never took for granted,
every step I walked had deep and intense meaning,
every time I felt my heart beat hard at what I saw
made me feel so happy,
every day felt like a year;
and after walking up, I loved doing my ritual of
getting a take out coffee from Starbucks,
taking a walk around and through Central Park,
returning to my hotel room with a breakfast bagel,
and then leaving my hotel again
and going off on a new adventure
in my favourite city.
At night, when I was in my hotel room,
near Central Park, and I sat at my desk near my bed,
I dreamed, I wrote, I remembered,
I ingrained every moment of the previous day
into my DNA forever;
while walking the New York City streets in the moonlight,
I knew that I was where I was always supposed to be;
while sitting in the shadow of a statue of Christopher Columbus,
on a bench at Columbus Circle, in New York City,
I knew and I felt an incredible and energizing feeling
that felt like I was in my own version of heaven,
and a perfect paradise for anyone artistic,
creative, especially a writer.
Every minute that I was in New York City,
I knew and I understood why the best city on Earth
was also the worlds most spectacular city,
and why it was known as “The Wonder City”.
My Poem ‘Memory Box’
I thought about giving up writing once,
I even put all my books and notebooks together
and packed them away in a cardboard box;
I thought about giving up what I loved
and what had always given me profound happiness,
and I even thought I could change who I was
and forget about everyone I had met,
and everything I had written –
but that thought honestly only lasted for a day,
and in no time at all, I was seeing things,
being inspired by things, hearing things,
and wanting desperately to write in my notebook
a poem about them;
I didn’t lose my love for writing,
but I did have my writer’s identity taken away from me
and stripped from me, you could say;
and it broke my heart putting all my cherished poems
and memories away, and putting them under my bed,
and I thought that the only time
that they would see the light of day
would be when I was reminiscing to a friend
that I used to be a poet, at some time in the future
when I was old and grey.
However, do you know what happened?
Do you know what I did?
I did something, that at the time was not planned:
I started again, I allowed myself to feel shame and pain,
and then I took my notebooks
from the box I had packed them away in,
I went to the next blank page of my latest notebook,
and I started to write a new poem
with my favourite silver pen –
I wrote one of my favourite poems, “The Phoenix”,
and I kept writing and writing and writing,
and only occasionally stopping to look back
before carrying on in the direction I had been walking,
I took pride in my gift again,
and I felt like myself again,
because I was writing again.
The moral of my story, if any,
is that if you love something so much
do not run away from it,
do not put it in a box and say “Fine, forget it!”,
because by doing so you are hurting yourself,
you are committing a mistake,
you are doing something that is hard to come back from
before it is too late;
take it from me:
nobody is perfect,
everybody makes mistakes,
the people who try to bring you to your knees
can only do so if you allow your entire world
to descend into a flux;
so, if you ever doubt yourself,
if you ever question what you are doing,
if you ever think that you would be better off
without the one thing that you most adore and love,
put that thought out of your mind
the second that your fear delivers it to you.
If you are an artist, keep making art;
if you are a singer or a musician,
keep making you music;
and if you are a writer, keep writing
and don’t ever believe that all of what makes you so special
could ever easily just be put away,
and forgotten about for a rainy day,
in any kind of memory box.
My Poem ‘Three Little Words’
When you are looking for a way to say something;
when for some reason, at the most important moment,
words fail you;
when you can say whatever you want,
and you have a lot to say,
but because all the ideas in your head
all seem to come at once,
you can sometimes end up saying nothing;
when it is a day when words and actions
mean more than they usually do,
and you have to make every moment and every word
count and be felt with more depth of feeling;
when on Valentines day you want to write an entire essay
and poem about how much someone means to you,
there are three little words that alone say everything: I love you.
There is a remarkable, noticeable,
and wonderful, look in the eye;
there is a warmth that rises;
there is an indescribable tingle
that you feel all over your body;
there is a flashback that happens
that takes you back to the very first time
that you heard those magic words, one after the other;
there is a slowing down of time;
there is a pull that you feel that grabs you like a rip-tide;
there is a reliving of a memory;
there is a feeling of happiness,
and overwhelming belonging, and love,
that is unlike no other.
Every time I have ever said something meaningful
and heartfelt to someone who means something to me
so profoundly that I have to tell them,
and show them, in some way;
every time I write a poem for someone,
I am giving a part of my heart away;
every time my heart grows in size, my heart races,
my imagination explodes, my feelings eclipse my thoughts,
and I am in my ideal state of mind,
in my beautiful, optimistic, and hopeful, love-filled world;
I think about someone who is unbelievably important to me,
who I love to death, who I love more than words can say,
and I close my eyes, I picture that special person in my mind,
and I say my favourite three little words…
My Poem ‘Ticket Love’
In this day and age,
the convenience of being able
to buy things, order things,
and have things instantly delivered to us
in no time at all, is a great thing
and it saves so much time and effort;
however, I believe that above all else,
you cannot beat the personal touch,
the physical feeling, the face to face,
the one to one connection, the delight,
and the warmth of being eye to eye
with another human being,
and sharing brief but amazing,
insightful, and rewarding moments,
with a wonderful ticket agent,
for example – smiling and shining beautifully
behind the desk of their kiosk.
When you walk into a box office,
and almost immediately the lovely smiling
and welcoming face of the ticket agent
instantly calms you and makes you smile,
and their soothing voice puts you at ease,
and comforts you when you inquire about a show
and a ticket and what is on and what is good to see;
in very day life, you do not often come face to face
with a polite, wonderful, charming, confident,
hypnotizing, gift of generosity and happiness,
as you are lucky to do so at one box office in particular,
and one ticket seller, who when you meet them,
you firstly won’t believe your eyes
and you may not believe the beautiful vision
that you see is actually real,
and, secondly, you wont believe that
out of all the people, and from the all the places,
you could have bought a ticket,
you picked the best ticket agent there is,
and you got incredibly lucky.
Everyone, and anyone, comes into the box office
and books tickets to see a multitude of things
that you can lay to see:
musical performances, pop band tribute acts,
things for all the family,
lectures, dancing, artistry, comedy,
every kind and form of variety –
and one of the best introductions
to all the available performances,
are the agents that you can talk to
about anything and everything from the word go,
and when you meet one agent in particular,
and from the first moment that you meet them,
they are your favourite
and you will go out of your way to come back
and book with the same amazing booking clerk,
and have them remember you too,
and every time you do,
the experience may be as great
as what you are hoping to see,
and as great as can be.
I know a ticket agent
who is amazing at what they do,
who loves their job,
who loves interacting with people,
and who always gives a hundred percent
at all the she does;
I know a wonderful person,
who not only sells tickets to see things
she also sells hope;
I know someone, who when you meet her
she will fill your vision
and ignite an amazing and phenomenal spark of joy
in your heart, and you will forever be excited,
and overcome with entrancing ticket love.
My Poem ‘Thoughtfully’
Every day of the year,
especially at this time of the year,
it truly is the thought that counts;
every hour of every day,
especially when I am writing a new poem of poetry,
I love putting all my time, all my attention,
all my thoughts, into a gift for someone
that could even make a cold heart melt.
I enjoy buying gifts for people;
I take great pleasure in thinking about, selecting,
and giving others, presents;
I take lots of time choosing the right gift
for the right person at the right time;
I want a gift from me to be special and to be meaningful;
I like to think of myself as an expert present buyer,
and I could probably buy a great gift for someone
who I haven’t even met without regret –
and that is why I love the journey, and the discovery,
and the making of a connection by me with something
that I see with someone that I know in mind
who would really like the thing that I found to give to them –
at any time of the year, but especially for birthdays,
and at Christmas time.
I love seeing, thinking, buying, wrapping, giving,
something from me without an expectation
of anything in particular in return;
I value time, thought, gratitude,
and there is no greater gift than when your efforts are reciprocated;
I love watching and being a part of the experience
of the unwrapping of a gift,
even if it isn’t a gift being unveiled that I gave,
and sometimes just by watching the reactions of people
when they unwrap a present,
there is so much about that person –
both the sender and the receiver – that you can learn;
I love watching the widening of the eyes,
the formation of the smiles,
and the intense emotions that
you can see playing out on people’s faces.
The most meaningful and the greatest gift
that you can give someone
won’t cost you a pound, a penny, a dollar, or even a cent;
the most amazing gift is one of love and affection,
and they are free, and they are the most important.
A gift that I buy for someone,
a little piece of me and my own creativity
that I give someone means the most to me;
a present – a birthday present, a Christmas present,
a card, a message, a poem, a moment –
is its most wonderful and magical
when it is given not for the sake of it,
but intensely, personally, and thoughtfully.
My Poem ‘Echo’
I often wonder why people go to the same places:
why they shop at the same shops,
why they eat at the same restaurants,
why they drink the same drink at the same pubs;
I often wonder why music, fashion, brands,
bands, writers, movies, have the impact that they have,
and why they become the thing that someone people genuinely love;
I often wonder the same questions as an ‘ad man’ would
of a product he is figuring out how to sell and advertise,
and get people thinking and talking about something;
I often wonder the same thoughts as an artist
has to think when they want to start turning their passion
into a means of living.
There must be thousands, if not millions,
of people like me in the world,
but I don’t think that there are many people
who ask questions and come up with their own informed answers
in spontaneous verses of poetry –
most people don’t have the time to think about things
that are outside of their normal way of thinking,
their circle, and do not have the passion that I have
for imagination, connection, freedom of expression,
through a love of life and words;
I would guess that there are not that many people
who can see what I see.
I have always been fascinated by what draws people
and all forms of life to what they desire
and want above all else:
when a moth is drawn to a flame,
that doesn’t mean that they want to kill themselves;
when an astronaut leaves the Earth,
that doesn’t mean that they want to separate themselves
from the world and from the rest of humanity;
when someone does something
that may have consequences for them in the future,
when they start they are not thinking
that what they are doing will one day be bad for their health;
when someone looks for an answer in a book,
or in a story about a time gone by,
they are looking for a truth already been found by someone else,
they are looking for clarity.
The rings within a tree are an echo of its life
and of the times that they have lived through;
the DNA of someone is an genealogical timeline
of an entire family of infinite members
that can be traced back and mapped to the beginning of time;
the frequency of every piece of man-made technology
can be followed back from the present day,
to the invention of the light-bulb,
to the manufacturing of the first wheel,
to the amazing and phenomenally detailed drawings of Leonardo da Vinci;
the entire meaning of all that matters
can be glimpsed in the natural art of the universe,
and in the first thought that always follows
when someone asks a question of why?
Everyone, and everything that happens,
exists, and is a thing of momentous importance,
in the endless ripples and waves that is
the universe of the big bang of creation’s echo.
My Poem ‘Dreams’
Dreams are where we live our second life,
and where we live out our thoughts and wishes;
dreams are the alternate reality
where anything you want to happen can happen
without consequence;
dreams are where we live out our fantasies,
and share hidden kisses;
dreams are where we can go anywhere we can imagine –
into a possible future that you hope will come true,
or the memory of a school trip that you had
to the south of France;
dreams can seem more real than reality,
and can feel like a more desirable place to live;
dreams can seem to last for days,
when you are deeply involved in the constantly changing
and evolving dream creation of another world;
dreams can seem like heaven,
depending on whom you are dreaming you are with;
dreams can seem strange, weird,
too good and fantastic to ever be true,
and wonderfully absurd-
however, dreams are as necessary to life
when we are asleep as oxygen is to us when we are awake;
dreams can be a cure, a therapy, what we need to stay alive,
but also a medicine that can be hard for us to take.
The dreams that we have when we are a child
are the best dreams that we will have in our lives-
especially the good ones;
the dreams that we have when we are an adult
are sometimes mostly filled with worry
and things that we constantly have
floating on the surface of our mind;
the dreams that we have when we are in another country,
or in a wonderful but unfamiliar place,
on holiday, are free of angst and expectation,
and are dreams of pure unbounded imagination;
the dreams that we have after meeting someone new
are as beautiful as what the world must be imagined like
to someone who has for their entire life been completely blind.
I have had hopeful dreams;
I have had beautiful dreams;
I have had dreams in which I have met people
I have wanted to meet since I was young.
I have had nightmares;
I have had bad dreams that have brought me face to face
with the source of all my fears.
I have had imaginary encounters that even to this day
I still remember having,
because they still continue to be more important to me
than to others they might seem.
In my mind, at night,
I have been able to rewrite the times when I was wrong;
I have dreamed of things that I do not clearly remember
in great detail the morning after,
but I have awoken in tears.
I have always been fascinated by the power of inspiration
and the infinite capacity of both the conscious mind,
and the unconscious mind, and I love remembering
and finding the answer to a riddle
played out before me in real life,
of something I once saw, felt, and did in my dreams.
My Poem ‘A World of Difference’
Today I gave money to a homeless person;
today I gave a smile to someone
who really looked like they needed it;
today I offered to help someone;
today I bought a gift for someone, and it felt good;
today I thought about a friend,
and I silently gave them my love;
today I wrote a poem;
today I hoped that one day no one
would ever have to want for anything,
and that we all would honestly be able to say
that we have enough;
today I marveled at the spirit of generosity
that I felt in the air;
today I watched the sunrise,
and I am about to watch the sunset;
today I had a conversation with a random stranger
in a music store about vinyl albums,
and about how music sounds better
when it is played on a record player;
today I am thankful for what I have,
and not for what I don’t have –
because it is important to remember
sometimes that we are one person,
of one life, on one planet,
and one act of thanks and gratitude
can make a world of difference.
My Poem ‘As the song says’
I am only ‘Human’;
I live to ‘Imagine’;
In my ‘Imagination’
I have been ‘To the Moon And Back’;
I love intensely, endlessly,
‘Truly, Madly, Deeply’;
I have seen the face of ‘Heaven’;
when I was younger, I used to wish
that I had been ‘Born In The U.S.A.’;
I have stood high above the world
and have been captivated by the awe-inspiring
height I am standing at ‘All Along The Watchtower’;
I would give ‘Anything’ to look at my own reflection
and be the ‘Man In The Mirror’;
I would love it if I could make some moments
last forever, and ‘Stay Another Day’.
My ‘Burning Heart’ has never burned hotter or brighter;
my taste for life is as sweet as ‘Chocolate’;
my best has never been ‘Closer’;
my ‘Human Nature’, my inside-out emotions,
let me feel, see, and allow me to ‘Dance In The Dark’;
my new day feels ‘(Just Like) Starting Over’;
my hope has the power of a ‘Kiss from a Rose’;
my smile lingers;
I love my angel of inspiration,
and I could never ‘Let Her Go’.
The world and I play ‘Mind Games’;
the soundtrack around me makes me ‘Move Like Jagger’;
the world is able, this day and age, to bestow instant ‘Fame’;
nature is able to show you the truth of things,
daily from its ‘Little Black Book’,
and give everyone a dose of ‘Instant Karma’.
I am not just a ‘One Trick Pony’.
I embrace all things with ‘Open Arms’.
I sometimes feel ‘Out of Touch’,
but I always come ‘Back to Life’
when I feel ‘The Power of Love –
and I daily feel like I could run a marathon,
and climb to the top of high steps,
and raise my arms, as if I am ‘Gonna Fly Now’
like ‘Rocky’.
I feel like I know ‘Salvation’ when I ‘Say Something’,
and I sing to the one I love ‘Everything I do, I do it for you’;
as astronauts have silently said while ‘Walking On The Moon’,
as friends have felt ‘Always’, ‘Together’ –
especially those who were alive in the ‘Summer of ’69’;
and I never forget that ‘Life is a highway’,
that ‘True Love Never Dies’,
and that ‘The Best is yet to come’,
while we are all ‘Surrounded’ by the wonder
of a ‘Sky Full of Stars’, like the song says.
