My Poem “Thaw”

The air is cold…
There is ice all around…
I am steeping out,
I am breaking the mould…
I refuse to stay in one place
and forever remain gravity bound…
I will not allow fear to take hold…
I will put one foot in front of the other
and walk towards my destiny
that has been foretold…
Soon the ice will thaw
and again I will see the path
upon which I am fated to walk…
There is no way of turning back,
there is no time for talk…
The essence of time is to be fleeting…
The reason of memory
is in order to be reminded of life’s meaning…
I do not fear the future,
nor do I fear this shining icy floor…
One step at a time,
I will keeping going
and walk within the light of the sun
as it slowly but surely transforms
and returns all islands of ice
back into the air from whence they came
in one almighty thaw.

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My Poem ‘Let me go, and I will run’

It’s fun to let your thoughts drift away from you;
it’s good to let your thoughts run away from you;
it’s exciting to experience your thoughts changing;
it’s incredible to have an idea
that spontaneously pops into your head,
as if from out of nowhere,
which just takes over every other thought of your mind
and function of your body –
and which also becomes all that you can talk about,
and to you it is all that is worth saying.

I have a brand new idea for something,
usually for the title of a new poem,
every hour of every day;
however, of the sixty ideas that I have,
by the end of every hour, they have become one idea,
and by the end of every day –
usually just before I fall asleep –
the first words of a perfect thought,
and the first verse of poetry of my own imagining,
has been ingrained in my consciousness,
and is just waiting to be written,
in my own unique way.

Ideas are important;
every idea that I have ever had
has set my imagination on fire;
ideas are building blocks, as well as foundations;
of all the ideas that I have had,
deciding one day to write down
what was on my mind at the time
was the one muse that is still a constant;
ideas are the offspring of desire;
every idea I have had has enlightened me in some way;
and following the path of an idea,
and taking the journey of the eternal dreamer,
is my way of reaching a higher state of consciousness,
and in a way it is my own form of meditation.

Ever since I was a kid,
I have been used to exerting my body
and using every physical muscle at my disposal
to achieve feats of strength and speed;
as a child, as an adult,
I was off like a shot,
running my heart out to somewhere I needed to get to,
and perhaps to someone in need;
ever since writing has become my passion, my devotion,
my love, and one of the defining parts of my heart, my soul,
my identity, there has not been a day that has gone by
when the question ‘what am I going to write about next?’
has not been uttered by me –
and even now I am asking that question, and answering it also,
and to me there is no more perfect
and beautiful form of writing than poetry.

When I can be myself;
when I am not constrained by glass, brick, wood, metal,
windows, doors, walls, and locks;
when I can step out into the daylight
and feel the beating warmth of the sun;
when I am unaware of time, and I can move with stealth;
when I am thinking wholly, completely,
and tantalizingly, out of the box;
when I can cut the strings and the ties
of anything that might be holding me, my mind,
my imagination, back in any way –
I promise you, world: let me go, and I will run.

My Poem ‘Turned Around’

While in the woods,
I got lost, I got turned around, and I lost my way;
while in the woods,
my path disappeared like pavement drawings
after a shower of rain;
while in the woods,
the wind blew through the trees;
while in the woods, time froze;
while in the woods,
there wasn’t a definitive direction for me to see;
while in the woods,
I found myself somewhere I did not know.

While in the woods, I heard distant noises;
while in the woods, my own potent survival instincts
focused every and all of my choices;
while in the woods, I walked past a tree
that looked as if it had been burned from the inside out,
as if it has been struck by lightning;
while in the woods, as I walked further,
I knew that the day was getting later,
because of the darkening of the day-lighting.

While in the woods, with every step that I took,
the colour of the leaves on the ground got darker and darker,
and after a time it looked as if I were walking on, and in, space,
because everything was black;
while in the woods, there were no signposts,
or anything that I or anyone could use as a marker,
and as my perception of time disappeared,
it did cross my mind for an instant
that I may never make it back.

While in the woods, the moon was the only source of illumination,
and even though it was an aid to me,
it still could not tell me where I should go;
while in the woods, you hear things rustling all around you,
but because there is hardly any light to see by,
knowing what might only be inches away from you
is something that you turn over in your imagination;
while in the woods, you feel the hairs on the back of your neck
stand on-end, and you wonder if, at some point,
you may not notice an obstacle right in front of you,
that might trip you up and send you head over toe;
while in the woods, you feel like you could walk for hours,
because your body and your mind
know that they should not be here after dark,
and all feelings of hunger or exhaustion
become distant memories and do not cross your mind for a second,
and as soon as you lose any semblance of sight,
all of your other senses unbelievably and radically become heightened.

While in the woods, you feel more deeply,
and your thoughts become louder;
while in the woods, and alone, your inner-voice becomes audible,
as you start talking to yourself,
and even the breaking of the tinniest of twigs
sounds like the roar of a crashing boulder.
While in the woods, you forget why you are in the woods,
and you ask yourself questions
that you might never have thought to ask at any other time before,
and may never ask those same questions again afterwards in the future,
but at the time you are asking them they are incredibly profound.
While in the woods,
you eventually find yourself in the very spot where you entered,
which may seem like a life-time ago,
however in reality you may discover that the time
is not what you think it is,
and the person that is you is not the one of the same mind,
and no longer focused on the same things,
as the you who walked into the woods,
and who somehow got turned around.