My Poem “The Safe Place”

Everybody has that where,
everybody has that when,
everybody has that place
and that time which matters to them…
everybody has that bubble,
everybody has that parallel world,
everybody has that mirror to step through
when they want to retreat into themselves
and create a space away from the outside world…
everybody from a young age chooses somewhere –
whether it be in front of a screen,
or in between the ear-buds of a pair of headphones,
or within the pages of a book,
or interacting and sharing with others socially
over an interconnected world wide network –
that always makes them feel comfortable and at home,
and when they are there the magic that they find
is sometimes impossible to put into words…
everybody needs a refuge, everybody needs a paradise,
everybody needs a universe within themselves
where they can dream, imagine, and play-out
things that need to be explored
that could one day be brought out
and manifested into the real world
and be transformed from meta-physical
into a physical and solid totem of peace…
everybody has the key to their own place within
where they go to to feel for a short time
that feeling of euphoria that awaits us all
when we return to our own private safe place.

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My Poem “A place and a time”

A photographer capturing an artist,
capturing a place, capturing a moment of time…
A poet inspired by an artist,
inspired by the muse of life,
capturing the instant of a lifetime…
A gift shared, feelings painted,
high above and in view
of a carousel that you might expect to find
at a fun-fair,
an artist uses all the colours
of his heart and soul to imprint upon their canvas
a picture perfect miracle of creativity…
A place has an unique voice
that sometimes speaks to an artist…
An artist interprets and is inspired
by an experience and a moment
in ways that vary from person to person…
Sometimes a painting paints itself,
sometimes a poem writes itself,
sometimes a moment captures itself
and becomes a part of someone’s heart
and changes their life…
A moment can come and go in a flash –
however that is the most beautiful thing about life:
that it is finite…
and if you ask me and many others like me,
I and they would tell you that
every moment craves and calls out to be captured –
because every moment of time is a place,
and every place captured
is an infinite moment of time.

My Poem ‘The Wilder Tower’

I will never forget the first time I saw
and the first that I climbed the steps
of the “Wilder Tower” – the lightning tower…
I will never forget the silence that I heard
and the feeling of peace that I felt
when I stood atop the stone-built tower
that stands as a monument in a former battlefield
in Chickamauga, Georgia…
I will never forget and I could never truly describe
what I was thinking and what it meant to me
to be where I was and with whom I was with…
I will never forget what came over me,
nor how fast my heart was beating,
as we were standing and looking below and beyond
to the green-grass and to the trees
that stretch to the horizon in almost every direction…
I felt as if I had always been meant to be there,
and as if the tower itself had been calling to me
and beckoning to me all my life.

The Wilder Tower stands tall and steady,
and over the years since its construction first began
it has literally weathered everything:
from a delay in its building,
to being hit during a thunder-storm
by a bolt of blue-lightning…
the Wilder Tower is magnetic
and it is a place that draws people to it…
the Wilder Tower is somewhere anybody can go
to climb, to stop, to think,
and to call out for an answer
from whomever may be listening…
the Wilder Tower is a powerful place
to find inspiration if you are romantic
or artistically-inclined,
especially if you a young-lover,
an artist, and a poet.

To some people, a building is just a building …
to some people, a tower is just a tower…
to some people, a memorial to a battle
is just a reminder of a violent past –
however, to me, certain places have great meaning
and they have the draw and the gravity
that they do for reasons
that are sometimes spiritual in nature…
our planet – the world that gives us
all that we could ever possibly want or need –
has many places on it that will forever have a memory
imbued and associated with it
that will always make them places
that are meaningful and special…
I have stood atop skyscrapers –
from the towering Empire State Building
to the beautiful Rockefeller Center in New York City –
and though those buildings and the skylines
that I saw will stay with me forever
in my memories that I will always remember,
nothing and nowhere could compare
to the first time that I stood looking at,
climbing the stairs of,
and then standing atop of
and high-above the ground,
with my heart in my hands,
while smiling and in-awe
of the 85-foot tall
Wilder Tower.

My Poem ‘Where do you go?’

Where do you go
in a moment of silence?
Where do you go
to find yourself?
Where do you go
when people see you
looking off into space?
Where do you go
to feel safe and sound?

To some people, music is a place –
a world which they visit every day
that makes them happy
and which inspires them to create
a work of art that becomes so real to them
that can no longer be bound
solely within their mind;
to some people, their imagination
is like an ocean of fantastic
and mysterious discoveries
to be found every time they choose to dive;
to some people, everything that they see
is like a strand of inspiration
which they cannot help themselves
from pulling and seeing what follows;
to some people, it is a castle,
it is a kingdom, it is a reality,
it is a place built by them,
but influenced by many different things
that they retreat to –
and sometimes what is going on
on the outside, in someone’s life,
has a dramatic bearing
on the destination and the colour-palette
of the place within where they go.

Some people revisit the past…
some people imagine the future…
some people slow down their life
as the world around them races by too fast…
some people hold-on to hope with all that they have,
while others worry too much
and are incarcerated and paralyzed by their fears.

To day-dream is an amazing thing;
to be preoccupied by something on your mind is natural;
to realize a dream-come-true
sometimes you have to let your guard down
and lower your defenses so that your voice can sing;
to overcome something, which to you at the time
feels impossible, is incredible –
our limitations are ussually those of our own making,
and to truly turn your life around and be content
you have to sometimes drown-out the voices of doubt
and paint the picture that you want to see.

Walking through nature
is a great way to open doors in your mind
to new and undiscovered frontiers
that are just waiting to be created and unveiled;
when your attention is completely focused on something
it is like being on a one-way highway
with no way to go but straight-ahead;
saving some time for what you love
and for what makes you smile,
no matter what other people may say or think,
is more important than you could know;
everybody must have a sanctuary…
everybody must have a place of peace…
doing something, doing nothing in particular…
everybody must take a moment of time,
make it last, and make the most of it –
because time is as unique
and precious as a snowflake…
so, my question to you is:
where do you go?

My Poem ‘The Whispering Gallery’

Every Sunday,
bang on 10 o’clock in the morning,
the bells of St. Martin’s church
ring-out loud and far –
and every Sunday,
when I am standing and listening
in the most perfect spot
that can be found in all the city,
over time I have discovered
an amazing phenomenon…
just as every whispering gallery
that can be found in places
that are often places of silence
and peaceful serenity,
if you whisper a wish into the air,
and it is carried away on the wind
in the right direction,
then that same wish will come true one day
after having been delivered directly to heaven
by the wings of a listening angel –
and that almost silent prayer
will echo and create epic waves,
like an ocean being skipped upon by a stone,
and you will have been blessed –
even though the evidence of what has taken place
and by whom may have already disappeared without a trace.

The bells of St. Martin’s church ring for almost an hour –
the are a source of hope for many, and they have a power.
Church bells, to me, have always had a solemn beauty to them;
church bells are like the accent of a place of worship’s voice,
and I think they are wonderfully important;
church bells have a way of drawing people to them like a beacon;
you have never felt such a feeling like that
of being as close as you can be
to the breathtaking vibrations of sound
that are produced when ancient bells are ringing
and hammers are hitting their mark in a bell-tower.

The world is one big whispering-gallery;
the Earth has places on it
where the magical can be conjured into being
with the flick of a magic-wand
disguised as an ink-pen;
some people want something so much
but they are afraid to ask for help from anybody –
sometimes things can only be heard
when they are said in the first where
and at the right when…
so, I encourage anybody who feels something special
when they are somewhere,
even if that place may not look anywhere
that may be at all “somewhere to write home about”
to let their inner-most thoughts and wishes
be set free into the atmosphere
of the worlds biggest whispering gallery.

My Poem ‘The Hummingbird House’

Standing in a room
surrounded in every direction
by flying hummingbirds;
the childhood dream
of a little girl walking
through a vast field of yellow daises
beneath a cloudless bright-blue sky;
standing on a green hilltop
looking down at your home below;
the adventure of a not-yet
grown up boy’s life-time,
and a return to a place
that he knows so well
it is almost as indelibly under his skin
it could almost be a tattoo;
on a cold winter’s day
the light shines differently
than it does at the same time of day
during the summer;
people change just as much as the seasons do;
a simple act of kindness can be something
that some people hold on to for luck
like a four-leafed clover;
when you become intoxicated by a moment
time goes wonderfully slow.

Dreams are our life’s internal movie-theatre;
our dreams are like the software
that runs the most powerful super-computer;
emotions are our way of interpreting
the meaning of what we see,
what we hear, what we feel,
and what we think;
all of our memories share and are
connected to an infinite number of mutual links.

Two different people
can look up at the same cloudy sky
and see two radically different formations;
a hundred people can be in the same place
at the same time for many different reasons;
a thousand people could each give you
a thousand and one different answers
to the same question;
all of human-kind begins anew
a different cycle every time
there is the rise of a new generation.

A house made of glass tells no lies,
but at the same time is precious to the touch
because of what it is;
a rose is one of the most beautiful gifts of nature,
but it also has the means to protect itself;
to me, someone with a thousand books to read
is richer than someone with a thousand dollars to spend;
a dream that has come true for you
is also known by another name: happiness;
heaven is a story that has no end;
everybody and anybody who has ever stopped
and stood, and who has ever looked
at a beautiful sight with an open mouth,
knows intimately what it is like
to have been inside a hummingbird house.

My Poem ‘Finding Your Place’

Finding your place in the world
is an adventure in-and-of itself;
finding the place
where you are meant to be
can literally be a way
for you to feel things
that you have never felt;
finding a place that feels
like a part of you,
as you do of it,
is like finding a perfect oasis –
and there is no more perfect haven
or heaven on Earth to a poet
than a place where they
can be surrounded
by their literary companions,
contemporaries, and heroes
who are as intriguing as people
as they are fascinating and fantastic
as that which they wrote.

Thrill-seekers love roller-coasters;
book-lovers love libraries;
artists love galleries;
music-lovers love stereos,
headphones, music-players,
and they love the visceral
live experience of a concert;
people without fear
love to jump without looking,
and they love to let go
and be free of gravity
and push the limits
of what is possible
as far as they can go.

I found my sanctuary
when I first fell in love with writing;
I found my inner-author
when I first collected together
my poetry and crafted my very first
anthology of the world
that I had been living and observing;
I found my spark of inspiration
when I was first touched by a divine light
that came directly from the sky
and our nearest star;
I found a new world
hidden behind an invisible veil
when I began to believe
that I had a gift of insight
that could help other people
to see things and to inspire people
to make their mark.

I have met phenomenally-gifted people in my life;
I have dreamed dreams that may keep other people
awake for days and nights;
I have walked in the shadows of giants,
and I have been carried away
by the gaze of Angels’ light;
I have broken though clouds of confusion;
I have prayed that one day
I would never have to stop
caressing the love of my life
and my muse’s beautiful face;
I have questioned life,
and I have searched the inner-
and outer- universe for answers and reasons –
however, just as I was searching
and asking to be shown my ultimate fate,
while looking up at a shooting-star
streaking through space,
where I was always meant to be
and whom I am meant to be with
were already calling to me;
and that is why I would always want
people to remember and to realize
that one day, sooner or later,
near or far-away,
as long as you keep doing
what you have been doing,
when you are supposed to
you will find your own place.

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