Mark The Poet – The Podcast: Episode #37

My Poem “A Murder of Crows”

Every morning when I look outside
my bedroom window I see a Murder –
however the “Murder” that I speak of
is nothing to be concerned over,
because what I see is merely
an assemblance of crows
all gathered together,
all cawing to one another –
which occurs like clockwork every morning
and all throughout the day,
and it is to the caws of crows
that I have heard and awoken to for years;
because for some reason
where I live is like Crow central for
a large number of nests in tall trees
that are home to the jet-black,
majestic, mysterious, captivating,
soaring, distinctive, supernatural
spirits of the sky who are considered
to be among the most intelligent
of all the birds of the world,
who are capable of doing things
that no other bird would even
think of doing, and who definitely
like to be heard whenever there is
a gathering of them, that is as if
they acting out a scene from a play
for all to hear that is called:
“A Murder of Crows”.

My Poem “Want to take a ride?”

Some people love riding…
some people live to jump
on the saddle of a horse,
or on the saddle a bicycle,
on the seat of a scooter,
or on to the seat of a motorcycle –
especially on the weekend
when people feel like
time is on their side
and they can glide through
the quiet lanes of the countryside,
or down the open highways with
the wind blowing against their face,
while enjoying every moment
and every ounce of the feeling
of being unburduned by anything,
and some people also enjoy
the opportunity of the pure release
of their inner nature
that they get to make.

Some people have a great affection
for past times that make them feel rebellious –
as if they are doing something
that they shouldn’t be doing:
like disregarding a sign that says
“DO NOT ENTER” or “SLIPPERY WHEN WET”,
and they still decide to proceed
regardless to what awaits them within
the forbidden place before them…
some people are simply unable to fight
the feeling that rises within them
that makes them want to
face their fears, take a leap,
and expand the boundaries
of their imagination.

Some people sometimes do things
that they know other people
have died while doing…
some people sometimes do things
that are dangerous
because the experience of doing
certain activities is profoundly thrilling
and sometimes life-fulfilling…
some people who live near a beach
love to start their day by taking
their surfboard and riding the crests
of the early morning waves…
some people love being active,
being brave, and seeking out
their calling in life in many different ways.

Some people live to explore…
some people love to dive…
some people like the ritual
of waking up at dawn
and taking their dog for a long walk…
some people want nothing more
than to do what they want,
when they want, how they want –
especially those who wake up
every day when they do not have
anything in particular to do
and who can take the steps
to fully answer the question of:
“Where do you want to go?”…
some people experience
the feeling of being “more alive”
when they instively act upon
the question posed by
their adventurous side,
which is usually a variation
along the lines of:
“Want to take a ride?”

“Life should not be a journey to the grave
with the intention of arriving safely
in a pretty and well preserved body,
but rather to skid in broadside
in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up,
totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming
“Wow! What a Ride!”

– Hunter S. Thompson

My Poem “Working Day”

Ice scraping… wheels spinning…
wind blowing… people shivering…
the air of the morning is freezing…
the winter weather of
this new morning is unforgiving.

Turn the heat up to the max…
watch your footing upon those slippery paths…
keep those windows closed
or you will feel the snap
of that deadly draft.

Blue sky… birds chirping as they fly…
Looks like the traffic is light?
But now red lights? Why?
I think some people need
to relearn how to drive?

Busy bees of the city –
people with somewhere to be…
On the radio I hear
that some trains have been cancelled,
that some cars have
broken down on some highways –
and I bet that there more than
a few people asking themselves right now
the question: why me?

Bikers weaving lane to lane –
those riders have got to be on their game…
A near-miss? Wow! That was close!
If that rider had been any slower then
right now they’d be toast.

Get to work with time to spare –
not the best feeling to be there…
hot coffee, calls to make,
not long until the next break…
hopefully the time today flies by –
hopefully 9 will soon turn into 5.

Driving home…
my bed is calling…
my phone is dying…
my stomach is rumbling…
might need to get
some take-out on my way –
because if I don’t
it’ll soon be too late.

Home safe… legs ache…
take-out meal still warm? Great!
Time to watch some TV? Ok!
Eyelids soon get heavy…
Hard to concentrate…
Need to sleep…
These days it is not as easy
as it used to be to stay up late.

Seems like the instant
that my head hits the pillow
my alarm clock is already waking me up –
and whether it want to or not
now I need to roll out of bed
and get up.

Another day, another dollar…
once again I am getting dressed,
and flattening down my collar –
and soon enough I am heading
out of the house
to restart the cycle,
and as always I hope and I pray
that I can once again make it through
the “rat race” of all that
life throws at the average person
on a typical, busy, often exhausting,
modern day, wild west of a working day.

My Poem “Up With The Crows”

I’ve always been an early riser…
I’ve always awoken before
the sun has risen above the horizon…
I’ve always bee someone lucky enough
to have been given the gift of being
able to hear and to be able to listen
to the beautiful symphony
and the majestic choir of the dawn chorus
sung by all manner of birds.

I’ve always been a poet who has looked,
listened, and took in the spirit
and the essence that greets me
every morning when I open up
all of my senses to all the wonders
and all the magic that I have felt –
all the inspiration that has been
conjured within my mind
that have been converted into perfect words.

Some mornings I wake up
and I am instantly and automatically
ready for the day ahead of me,
and then there are those mornings
when it takes me a minute or two
to find my bearings
and get my priorities straight…
some mornings I feel like
I am ahead of the game,
and some mornings I feel like
my brain is running late.

Every morning is definitely
a different morning than the one
that came before and it will definitely
be different from the one that will follow;
however, I am just like everybody else
and I too have my own version
of a morning routine that I believe
stands me in good stead
and starts my day off on the right foot –
and I like to think that every morning
I am prepared to zig and to zag
and to adapt to every thing that the world
is just waiting to throw my way.

Some mornings, my thoughts, my feelings,
my blood, runs fast –
and some mornings, like a car
stuck in a traffic-jam,
the highway of my consciousness runs slow;
however, I can honestly report
that there hasn’t been many mornings
during my life, even as child,
when I have not woken up
with a brand new idea in my mind
that I want to caw about
and at the same time as the crows.

My Poem “Insomniac”

During the early hours of the morning
I have been awoken,
my mind has been opened
like the creaking door of an old house,
and I feel something stirring within me…
the sky outside is still dark,
everybody around me is still asleep –
however, I cannot switch of,
nor retreat to the depths beneath
where I return to the realm of my dreams…
I try listening to soothing sounds,
I try listening to the music
of Vivaldi and Mozart
hoping that the beautiful
classical music will help me fall
into a delicate trance
like that of watching a falling leaf –
however, I am still wide awake
and it appears that the delta waves
of my brain were disrupted so severely
that they could no longer maintain
there normal restorative cycle
and pull me down and deep…
I turn off all the lights,
I lay my head down in a room of darkness,
I slow my breathing and I try
to concentrate on the white noise
of the stillness of the early morning,
and I hope that I will soon be able
to resume a mood of restfulness
and renew my state of snooze
by listening to the tune of The Sandman’s muse
and curing me of my insomnia.

My Poem “Good Omens”

The sun was shining
when I woke up this morning,
but as time went by
the clouds began to gather
and the raindrops started to fall…
it had been raining for days –
but I actually believed
that today would be the day
when spring would finally begin
and everybody could once again
enjoy the experience of walking tall
under the light of the sun
that has always been somewhat
of a universal draw…
just as I and everybody
had come to the conclusion
that the end of time was upon us
and that it was potentially
going to rain for another
forty days and forty nights, or more,
spontaneously a bright burst of sunlight
parted the dark clouds
and shined down from above –
like witnessing a miracle happening,
or like watching a thought,
an idea, or a dreaming coming true…
as soon as everybody saw the sun shining
and usher in a bright blue sky almost immediately,
I instantly saw smiles appear on people’s faces
and the clouds above people’s heads lift –
as if the sunlight that everybody had witnessed
inspired a feeling of hope and optimism,
and a definitive change in the collective mood…
it’s amazing what the gift of sunlight can do…
it’s incredible to watch wet paths
and deep puddles of water evaporate
before your eyes and make
even the most shy of people
want to laugh and sing…
it is breathtaking to see something –
that may seem random to someone else –
and to interpret it as if it were
a sign of a higher power
and a reminder to always expect the unexpected…
even when all that you hear
and all that you see makes your mind
wander to all the things in the world
that make people dwell upon
the fear of the doom and gloom
that seeks to cast a shadow over the world –
like when the sun is obscured by the moon –
it is always important to think,
to hope for, and to look for all
the positive lights that are there to be found,
even on a morning of dark clouds and raindrops
you can find small, but significant, good omens.

My Poem “The World keeps going”

Heading down the highway,
as a black and yellow Ford Mustang flies past me,
as a blue and white airplane flies overhead
and comes into a landing at a nearby airport,
as the early morning sky glows bright blue,
and as the early morning sun breaks through,
shines its light, and creates places
that glow and are warm, and also places
that are colder because they are cast in shadow…
There is such a hive of activity for such an early hour…
There is such a palpable momentum
in so many people’s actions…
There are so many examples to be seen
of people repeating the same cycle…
There are so many examples of people
acting without having to think…
There are so many early birds out and about…
There are so many people with a job to do…
There are so many people driven by a purpose…
There are so many people driven by a thirst…
There are so many people
compelled by the same energy
that drives everybody on Earth…
There are so many people with a gift…
There are so many people with a curse…
There are so many people with intentions,
plans, ideas, who embody
the same creative aspirations
as I believe God had when he created the universe…
The day has only just begun –
but already the travellers are already traveling,
the homeless living on the streets are already begging,
the shoppers are already shopping,
the readers are already reading,
the writers are already writing,
the actors are already acting,
parents are already looking after there children,
friends are already sharing their time with one another,
and the world is already doing
what the world does best, no matter the snow,
no matter the cold – like Groundhog Day:
the world keeps going.