My Poem ‘Deathly Silence’

It is very rare
to actually hear the voice of a writer;
every writer is known for their writing style,
their preferred subject matter,
and by the way that they describe something in words;
however, you don’t always get to hear a writer
‘speak’ in their own voice –
to tell you about themselves,
and to get the chance
to introduce yourself to a writer –
because, most of the time,
writers are what they write:
most writers are the characters that they create.
Who a writer actually is as a person
is something that, as a reader, we may never learn.

Most writers enjoy the solitude of their own space,
their own time, their own breathing room,
to be able to successfully descend the elevator
into themselves, and their imagination,
so that they can focus on the puzzle they are figuring out;
most writers have an idea
about what they want to write about,
and what they want to say,
as soon as they begin –
however, if you were to ask a writer:
‘did it turn out exactly as you planned it?’ –
they would most likely laugh in your face;
because writing is a journey,
and, like all great journeys,
unexpected things tend to happen along the way.
Things of great importance should never be rushed,
and a writer will tell you
that “something is done when it is done” –
and allowing for mistakes,
and accepting that sometimes
you might need to change things, is a big help.
In my experience, and in my understanding,
a writer writes much –
however never gets the time, or the opportunity,
to say exactly what they want to say.

Being a writer is like being a god –
who has the power to create new worlds,
and bring to life new characters
and people out of thin-air.
Meeting a writer is an exciting moment –
one filled with genuine adulation, awe, and love,
and you just feel so lucky, fortunate,
and it genuinely feels magical to be in their presence.
No writer will ever truly die,
no author could ever truly be forgotten –
because their stories and creations
will always be somewhere out there.
Even the most amazing, supreme, incredible,
inspiring, prolific, writers
only have a short time
to be who they were born to be,
and to let their voice be heard
by the few or the many,
before they say goodnight for the last time –
and following their sad,
and their always untimely passing,
there always follows a ghostly, magical,
and deathly silence.

In memory of Terry Pratchett

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My Poem ‘The Prolific’

Learning how to write
is like learning how to walk –
finding your voice,
and finding your rhythm of speech,
is like when you discover
that you have the gift to be able to talk;
seeing things and allowing them to inspire you
sounds easy when someone says it,
but, for everyone, it takes a while to make a connection
between what you are seeing
and why it is so inspiring –
even for a published one of a kind prolific poet;
the gift to be able to stand upright without falling over
is all about finding your own balance,
and writing is like that too:
the idea, the thought, the growth, the detail,
the quintessential individual identity
that every writer and artist has
all proliferates and shows
in whatever they are creating.

Beethoven played, heard, and made,
entire symphonies in his mind –
he knew sound and music so well,
and he had the most virtuosic command
and knowledge of instruments,
that he didn’t need to hear a thing,
because he was a prodigy;
Shakespeare spent entire morning and nights
in Winters and Summers,
crafting, staging, and writing,
the most epic, incredible, phenomenal,
plays and timeless stories the world has ever seen,
read, or heard, that will continue to inform
the entire world for eons to come –
however, during the days
when he was not as well known as he is today,
in the days in which he lived,
William Shakespeare was not thought of as highly
and spoken of with as much esteem,
as he is now: I, however, believe
that Shakespeare’s first love,
and the thing that made him the most happy,
was his sonnets and everything that he said
and expressed through poetry.

When I first began writing poetry,
I used to perhaps write a poem a week –
and then I only shared what I wrote
with a small group of friends;
as expressing my thoughts,
and writing them down in the form of a poem,
became more and more important to me,
I started to write more and share more regularly;
when I realized that instead of writing something
once a week for someone, I was now writing twice a week,
every other day, and then every day,
I knew that writing, especially my poetry,
was no longer just a past-time for me –
it was a passion, a way of life,
a journey that had no end,
and every time I write a poem now
I cannot ever shake the feeling within me, of me,
that makes me happy, when I am writing my poetry.

There are some words that are sometimes over-used,
however there are only some words that could ever express
what something means to you at a particular moment:
love, amazing, awesome, special, epic;
but when I use a word,
when someone uses a words to describe me,
I can tell you that the reason I am using a particular word
is indescribably heartfelt and true –
because words mean a lot to me,
and I use them with great care and attention,
as a poet or a writer should;
and as an artist who knows their art
like the back of the hand,
and who thinks of themselves,
and who people often describe them as being,
in my opinion, is one of the best things
anyone could ever be, or be called:
someone who is wonderfully ‘prolific’.