My Poem “Screenshot”

Life is a livestream without a pause button...
when something happens we can't commit
every detail of every moment to memory...
life sometimes feels like it is
in a state of fast-forward...
when someone scrolls through
the posts of someone else who appears
to be living the life that they have always
wanted sometimes people can feel envy -
however life is filled with more depth
of perspective and colour
than any resolution of screen
could ever display perfectly...
when a photograph is taken
a thousand words could be used to describe
what the two dimensions apparently show -
but to go beyond a static image
and dive into what preceeded it
and what came after it
you have to look to what appears
in the background that may not be
as easy to see, but take it from me
it is there that you will see a picture's true poetry...
there is no way yet to recall
what the first face that we saw
after we were born was,
nor is there yet a way to know
what the first sound that we heard was,
nor who the first voice that
we heard belonged to;
but, make no mistake, our entire life
of experiences are all saved within our brains -
the good, the bad, the tragic, and the funny -
and if at the end of everything
each of us do indeed see our entire life
flash before our eyes so fast
that every moment merges together
into a burst of bright light,
be sure to try and do what
people do every day when they see
something on their phone
that they think is worth capturing:
remember what you can, while you can,
and if necessary take a screenshot.


My Poem “Missing Time”

Since the start of this
world-shattering pandemic
I know deep in my soul
that I have missed the sound
of a particular source of music -
a soundtrack, a beat,
a rhythm of life that can be heard,
felt, and seen within your minds eye,
whether it be morning, noon, or night:
the same pulse of inspiration
that first surged within me
at the very moment when
I knew that I was born to be a poet.

What I love about writing
and what keeps me coming back
to the blank page time and again
is the same thing that I miss
about sitting in a caf茅
surrounded by people,
before the days of mandatory masks
and before compulsory social distancing.

The thrill of the unknown,
the magic of the instantaneous,
the order and the chaos that to me
always made sense and which I could
always easily pull into focus:
all that being an artist is all about...
you can't plan for it, you can only create it
when you feel it within you boiling away
with such ferocity that you know
it is about to explode -
which is why artists need to capture
what occurs to them before
whatever idea forms combusts into dust
and becomes as spectral as a ghost.

I yearn to go back in time...
I wish that I could return to a place
at a point in the past where and when
I truly believed every moment
would always last...
I still cannot believe that we are all
living in the world that greets my senses
and compels my thoughts
and my emotions so overwhelmingly...
I wish that I could do something,
I wish that I could write something,
I wish that I could imagine something
that might serve to transport
everybody away from our current stark reality -
perhaps to a moment of peace, joy, and love
that the world once enjoyed,
or to a time in the future when I know
the memory of our current present
will not be as potent.

I have personal places
and I have particular times
where and when I return to within
my thoughts and within my dreams
that mean the world to me
that feel so close to me that I could
reach out and grasp them:
perfect moments the like of which
everybody has, which we all would do
anything to get back to,
which we never stop missing
and which are among life's
most precious of blessings.

My Poem “A Summer Like No Other”

The Summer season is usually
a time that most people
look forward to and plan for…
the Summer is usually when
people have once in a lifetime
experiences that they
have never had before…
the Summer season is usually
when people spend most of
their time outdoors…
the Summer is usually when
everybody is smiling
from ear to ear and embracing
the rays of the sun
that seem to shine a light
on certain aspects of life
that inspire moments of awe.

The Summer season is supposed to be
when people enjoy certain examples
of beauty as they come into bloom…
the Summer is usually when people
like to take their time
when talking to one another,
face to face, instead of feeling
like every interaction is just one long zoom…
the Summer season is supposed to be
when people feel optimistic,
and they are generally in a good mood…
the Summer is supposed to be
when most people are singing with joy
and not crying because they had got
a bad case of the blues.

This Summer has already been filled
with so many examples of good news,
as well as the ultimate example
of bad news which we all know about
which in truth has felt like
one long, continuous, and engulfing
cloud that has been the epitome
of a bad dream that has
unfortunately come true…
this Summer has been one that
will forever be etched upon
the psyche of everybody
far into the future…
this Summer has been a time
in the lives of everybody alive
that will be something spoken about,
chronicled, and remembered as a
Summer when the whole world
had to do what they had to do
to protect the most vulnerable
and to preserve as much as possible
for the next generation…
the events of this year
will haunt humanity like a spectre,
because this year has felt like
a Summer like no other, and memorable
in most cases for all the wrong reasons.

My Poem “Pool of Contemplation”

As I sit looking at the ripples
upon this pool that I have been
familiar with since I was a child,
I contemplate so much about what I know,
about what I don’t know,
about what has happened, about life,
and about what will happen
when all is said and done
and when the world feels like it has been
put back together after such a long
period of feeling as is if
the seams that held everything together
were beginning to become undone.

I know this place…
I have stared into this water
more times than I can remember…
I have a connection to this place…
I once sat down and painted this very pond
long ago when I was a child –
and then, just as now, I felt compelled
to see and to find shimmering
sources of inspiration, of connection,
of that something about nature
that feels indefinable, magical,
wonderful, and phenomenal.

There has always been something
calming to me about staring
into a pool of water…
there has always been something
ethereal about the thought of
what may be found within the depths
a puddle, a pool, a pond, a river,
a sea, an ocean –
beyond the surface, below the waves –
where nobody can venture to
without external oxygen
or without an imagination,
to explore things that have
a life of their own,
where things remain unseen
until they are explored,
and where things which always
spark into life
the fire of inspiration:
things that I always find
whenever I look
into a pool of reflection
and contemplation.

My Poem “Memory Lane”

Walking down and around
my old stomping grounds,
down the long and winding lanes
of the countryside near my home
that I know and could never forget –
especially now, while the world
feels like it has been turned upside down –
feels so rejuvenating, it feels so relaxing,
it feels like stepping back in time
and simultaneously being the man I am now
as well as the man I was back then
when I last walked this path,
as if I am in communication with myself
as I was five years ago in the past.

The grass looks just as green…
the budding trees look just as pretty…
the sky above looks to me to be
the brightest blue that I have ever seen…
the furrowed fields look just as
mesmerising as they always did –
in fact everything that I see, hear,
feel, and inhale of the nature that surrounds me
intoxicates me with its natural,
lush, and majestic beauty.

It is no wonder to me
that so many artists have attempted
to capture a view and the epic expanse
of a landscape within the confines
of the edges of a canvas –
because there is so much to be found,
because there is so much to take in,
because there is so many evocative
shapes, colours, textures, nuances,
wisps of language and meaning
that constantly jump out from
a green and pleasant environment
that has so much to say
and to convey about itself,
about who and what calls it home,
how it has changed and how it is
exactly the same as it was.

Quite often you find things out
about yourself that you recognize,
sometimes you might encounter
things about yourself that
you may have forgotten about,
and sometimes things can look different
when seen through the prism of time,
experience, memory,
and what we see can inform us
of exactly where we have been,
where we are going,
what we have been through,
and most important who we are –
and that is why one of the most amazing,
transformative, and rejuvenating things
that we can do from time to time,
especially when we feel like
our spirit needs a boost,
is to see beyond the frame of the present
and take a walk down “memory lane”.

“Blur”

Sometimes life goes by so fast that everything becomes a blur – that is why it is always important to hold on to the memory of something or someone whose image is always as clear as day in your mind, and no matter the distance from you what they mean to you will never fade away. 馃槉

My Poem “A Stream of Starlight”

As I slept last night
I composed the poem of my life –
but when I woke up
and I opened my eyes
all the words and the imagery
that I dreamt about
disappeared and returned
to the world from whence
they came, locked away
deep inside where I can
never find again,
without form, without memory,
without words, without time…
each and every one of us
live every day of our lives
riding the waves and existing
in the wake of dreams
that are as wistful
and as ethereal as the rainbow
of colour that comprises
a stream of starlight.

My Poem “Throwback”

Every day, I look at things,
I look at people, I look at places,
and in my mind I am thrown back in time…
Every day I am reminded about
some of the things I have done,
some of the people I have met,
some of the places I have visited,
and what always follows
is an intoxication of memories,
feelings, colours, that rise
to the surface – like the bubbles
of a glass of wine…
every day, I read things that I have written,
I remember what I did and with whom,
and I am overcome with a wave of d茅j脿 vu
that floods my thoughts with
echoes of what came before
and what I had compartmentalized…
every day, I hold on tight to who
and what means the most to me
and I try to remember every detail
of everything as accurately as I can,
while trying to correct for
Mandela Effect – which is a
prime example of how sometimes
our own memories can play tricks on us
and even blatantly make things up…
every day, something new happens to all of us –
even if we don’t realize it…
every day something new becomes
the inspiration for an explorer,
a storyteller, a musician,
a dreamer, a poet, that has such
a phenomenal and an amazing
effect that the aftershocks
from the revelations – that feel
like the tectonic shifts
that you can physically feel
when the Earth moves beneath you –
continue to influence you
in everything that you commit to afterwards…
the past, the present, the future,
the outside, the inside,
the old, the new, would not be what they are
and they would not mean what they do
without our own personal perspective…
the world is built upon things
and moments that are not meant to last –
however, if it were not for
all of the things that we sometimes lose,
all of the things that we leave behind,
and all of the things that are not meant
to last then we would never know
the true meaning, nor experience
the incredible power, of moments of nostalgia,
gratitude, and reflection from something
that can serve as a wormhole back in time
through which we can cast our mind’s eye
upon something in particular:
a throwback to an earlier time in our life.

My Poem “Magpie”

I’ll admit it,
when it comes to writing poetry,
writing stories, making art,
creating light from the dark,
I – like many of my kind –
am a bit of a Magpie…
certain things – people, places,
smells, sounds, tastes, experiences –
that I see, hear, feel, and sense
enter my mind through my eyes,
through my ears, through my nose,
through my mouth, through my fingertips,
and make me slightly different
than I was before…
so many things that I see,
that I hear, that I feel,
shine for me and give me
the same reaction that I am sure
a Magpie experiences when they see
a glistening piece of metal from far away.

Magpies are highly intelligent
and they can live a relatively long life –
and it is because of their observed
and recorded intellectual capabilities,
their extraordinary memory,
and their innate nature, that has led
people over the ages to come to believe
that Magpies can sense and perceive
things before they happen,
as if their existence is connected
to a realm that can only be described
as being supernatural.

So many people think in the same way…
so many artistically minded people
regularly experience moments of inspiration
when they see, hear, or feel something
that opens their eyes wide
and compels them to make a reality
an idea that they cannot shake, nor deny…
so many people see things that other people
may also see, but could never convey…
so many people, like me, who express
what they see, what they hear, what they feel,
what they think, and what they believe,
ultimately choose to use what they have collected
within their mind until a time in the future
when they can let their creative side
fly like the black and white wings of a Magpie.