peace
A Poem A Day #621: Zen
A Poem A Day #207: Rest Assured
A Poem A Day #145: Peace
My Poem “A Garden to Call Our Own”
There is no place in this world
more tranquil than a garden filled
with calmness and colour
that symbolises nature at it’s most wild
as well as at its most beautiful…
there is no place of serenity
and rejuvenation for both the mind
and the soul, that is home to birds,
to insects and to animals big and small,
than the place that people sit in,
look at, breath in, and marvel at
all of the infinite wonders that all have
their own uniquely individual details.
There is no other place that people
get to inherit, but also get the opportunity
to make their own, than the place
that changes over the course of its life
along with the seasons that has this power
to be able to remind us all of times gone by…
there is no place of sunlight
and shadow that shows visitors
of our humble abodes who we are
and what means the most to us
than the place that we see almost
every day that if we are lucky
is an oasis of perfection as well as
protection in our minds eye.
There is no place for people with
“green fingers” who enjoy planting,
watering, watching, and tending to
the plants that they sow and see
start out as a seed and then over time
grow just as substantially above the surface
of the Earth that they are planted into
as they do below the ground
whilst creating a vast network of complex roots…
there is no other place that people
can spend hours within and never stop
feeling as if they are truly at home
than that patch of land that they feel belongs to them,
where they can do whatever we want to do,
wherever and whenever we want to do it,
than that special place to us
that may be as big as a park
or a small as a window box,
but nevertheless is a garden
that we can all call our own.
My Poem “Liberty will never fall”
Humanity has lived through times
when we have looked at what was going on
around the world and we have had to
ask ourselves: what is going to happen next?
What does this all mean?
Is this the end of the world?
Times of plague and pandemic:
times of financial crisis; times of war;
times of terrorism – and in recent history,
apart from what we are all
living through right now,
I would have to say that the terrorist
attacks on the United States of America,
on September 11th, 2001, would have to be,
and will always be considered as,
one of the single most destructive
and world changing events
that we have ever known
and which will never be forgotten.
The events of that Tuesday afternoon
in September of 2001, when thousands
of people were killed as a result of terrorism,
have been ingrained within my mind,
and the world, for 19 years now –
and I can still remember exactly what I saw,
what I heard, and what I felt when
I witnessed, along with the world,
the last moments of life of innocent people;
and the subsequent attacks that have
taken place upon people who have done
nothing to nobody, as a result of a
ideology of fear, are deployable, cruel,
nonsensical, and grotesque.
One thing that should have been
made abundantly clear by now
to those who hate others so passionately,
by those who have been attacked
but who still continue to stand
and who still continue to the fight
the scurge of tyrrany that continues
to blight societies all around the world:
freedom is a gift, and nobody has the right
to spread fear, to intimidate others,
and to kill people who only want to be
who they were brought up
to want to be.
We all live on an interconnected world,
and we all have the right to think,
to dream, and to wish for things that we want;
but actions have consequences,
the world is not always simple to navigate,
and no one can do anything with impunity,
and if every peace-loving person works
together for the betterment of all mankind
then there will come a day
when the true gift of a free society,
liberty, will continue to rise
and will never fall.
My Poem “The Right Turn”
In times of crisis and confusion,
or at times of rest and relaxation,
everybody has the same people,
the same things, and the same places
to return to that have always had a way
of bringing them back down to Earth,
of settling them down,
of bringing something out in them
which has always helped to enlighten
and to illuminate a way to find
a sense of peace of mind.
Everybody either has a go to “something” –
good book, a favourite TV show,
a movie, a song, or a piece of music –
that always has this transformative
magic and power to be able to instantly
change a person’s mood
and even have an effect upon
how a person thinks, talks, and moves.
Everybody always seeks out answers
and wants to find simple solutions
to questions and puzzles
that play upon their thoughts,
but sometimes the most accessible,
acceptable, and easily digestible
explanations are hard to find
because sometimes you have to
firstly unlearn what you have learned.
Everybody always has paths
that they travel down that they
know better than others
as well as mental maps that they know
the landmarks of in such detail
that they almost seem ingrained
upon their brain like a tattoo,
because when the time comes to act
they instinctively know what to do,
how to do what they need to do, and who,
what, and where they need to be
to make the right turn.
My Poem “This is the way”
There are times when
some people can believe
that all hope has been lost…
there are times when
people cannot see beyond
the shroud of darkness
that obscures the constant stars…
there are times when people
walk through a forest of trees
and they cannot see a path
to the outside and back to the light…
there are times when
people have to dig deep and feel
for the source of the force
that shines like a beacon within them
and which seeks to cut through
the chaos of a moment
like a sabre of peace
that can be formidable if needed
to be used during a fight for survival.
There are times from dawn to dusk,
as the Sun walks the sky
and guides the lives
of billions of people
who are all seeking to play their part
in keeping the phantom menaces
that occasionally plague the world at bay –
however staying a course,
standing up against an adversary
who seeks to impose their will
over the innocent of society,
speaking out for those
who do not have a voice,
and saving the life of people
who you might not know
is the least that anyone can do,
and in the mission of those
who seek peace, harmony
and reconciliation with all things,
while walking with their head held high
and while basking in the light
of the living, is how it is possible
to be a force for good
in the world in some way.
My Poem “Ramblers”
In the warm embrace
of the shining morning sun
I walked through a forest of trees…
in the bright and beautiful open air,
as I breathed in deep,
I found myself enraptured
by an instant sense of peace.
As I walked amongst the flora
and the fauna that surrounded me
my eyes were opened wide…
as my eyes were drawn
to all the colours that I saw
I experienced the sensation of
a door opening within my mind
and I felt as if I were somewhere
completely removed from time –
and it was this feeling of contentment
that made me close my eyes,
smile, breathe in, and sigh.
Within nature is where I feel
the most at home…
when I am blessed to see
a bumblebee collecting nectar,
or when I am fortunate
to hear the sound of birdsong,
or when I inhale the infinitely
complex fragrance of nature,
I wish that I could share exactly
what I see, what I hear,
what I experience, and what I feel:
rejuvenation, elation, and,
most importantly, overflowing
waves from an invisible ocean of hope.
I like to live in hope…
I like living close to nature…
I like to immerse myself in
whatever I find wherever I go…
I like wandering down a path
while wondering about the future.
I thrive on the beautiful poetry
of the natural world…
I am always inspired
after spending some time
visiting oases of life…
I feel like I can converse
with the blossoming trees,
the green fields, and with whom
and with what I do not see
without even having to utter a word…
there are times when everybody needs
to leave the beaten path and explore
what gives the wonders of the wilderness
its enamoring allure to those of us
who are commonly described as “ramblers”.
Mark The Poet 