My Poem “Tatters”

When you grow up with nothing
you really do appreciate everything -
however, everybody always has something,
everybody always has someone,
everybody always has moments that they look back on
and people from their life that stand out
because they had a profound effect on them...
when some people are born
they are surrounded by shiny things -
but sometimes little to no love to be found;
when some people are born
they do not know that in comparison
to other people of the same age
their parents do not have the same means
to give them what other children have -
but it doesn't matter
because what they have
and what they will always have is
a connection, a bond, a hidden but important
history and a tapestry that only they know.

When we want to discover more about ourselves
we look in, we look out, we look back -
just like astronomers looking up to
the starlit sky of the cosmos
and the infinity of space
and the wonders to be revealed -
and we try to recapture times,
experiences, relationships, feelings;
but once something has happened
it is always hard to see and to recount
every detail of everything,
because our own internal storyteller
has a way of dramatising and often
romanticising things in such a way
to make them seem better or worse than they were.

When a person lives their life
they always discard pieces of themselves
that they have collected and acquired over the years -
fingerprints that could be used to identify them,
such as: messages, photographs, souvenirs, memories -
things that though they may have wanted to lose,
they kept a hold of
because they still felt a longing to return
to the same place and the same time,
with the same people, they
once visited, and loved,
and might still love.

When someone's world implodes
there are always fragments of them
and the world that they knew
strewn in every direction
and left for others to come along
and pick up afterwards and continue
their journey in some way -
such as incorporating them into a story,
or repurposing them and recycling them
so that they can be used over and over again -
and all my life I have witnessed this
and I see the value in using what others
no long have a reason to keep,
and now that I am older and I fully understand
what in life truly matters
I know what it means to take the bits
and the pieces of other people's lives
and fold them into our own,
because there is so much to be learned
from picking up seemingly random things
and putting together a new puzzle -
especially to those who are adept
at using their imagination and
creating new stories
from the tatters of others.

My Poem “Puzzle Pieces”

Every day I see puzzle pieces strewn around me -
which is fine because I have
always loved a good mystery...
every day my interest is peaked
with fascination by questions -
those I perceive and read
emanating from people, places,
experiences, circumstances,
and situations, like a nectar to a bee...
every day I find myself following
the breadcrumbs left behind
by everyone who may not wish
to have the truth about something
laid bare for all to see...
every day I take a leap and I allow
my instincts to drive the thoughts
of my mind at full speed...
every day I look and I always see something
that intrigues me and invigorates my curiosity...
every day I unlock internal doors to inner places,
like a locksmith of multiple keys -
but sometimes when I do
I find myself in rooms filled with
the things of people that sometimes
feel out of place and out of context,
like a mismatch of fragments
that you sometimes find interlaced within a dream...
every day I decode one decrypted message,
and the next I see a gap within a tapestry
and I have to find out what and where
to find the missing puzzle pieces.

My Poem ‘Forensic’

Mystery, like love,
in my opinion,
is the most potent drug
known to man,
and also the only one
capable of delivering
someone to the deepest of states
of pure intoxication;
mystery haunts the mind
and walks the Earth silently
until the time is right
for its voice to be heard;
mystery makes detectives of us all –
however, the greatest of mysteries
have long-since remained unsolved
and their secrets live on
in the prism of history,
just as the intrigue of their story
will continue to inspire and enthrall
many for all eternity.

There seems to be a constant struggle
between order and disorder;
there are times in life
when something happens
and the only response you can give is: why?;
there are some people who are incapable
of staying on the right side of the law;
there must be something in the genes, I think,
that motivates and compels someone
to commit any crime.

Every whisper contains a seed of truth
that is only a minute part of a much larger story;
every detail of every-thing is evidence
of a structure of moments that goes deep,
as well as towers high;
everybody leaves a trace
that can be followed forward in time,
as well as back;
everywhere there are things
that some people can so easily miss and not see;
everyone is gravity-bound by something
that they live because of and are made whole by;
every instant and every moment
we leave something behind us
that we do not realize,
because time goes by so fast.

A state of being is psychological;
a state of reproducing is biological;
a state of acting without thinking is instinctual;
everybody trips, everyone falls;
everybody utters words of inspiration
from time to time over their lips;
everyone at one time or another
hears an empowering call;
every mystery has an answer;
every magician and illusionist
has their signature magic-trick;
every unknown gives someone a reason to wonder;
every puzzle can be solved
if you look for the coincidences
that are not just coincidences –
because in reality all things are clues
in the fascinating world of forensics.

My Poem ‘Breakthrough’

Everything at the beginning is hard
and it can take some time
to find your feet before you can walk;
everything new is a learning process
and you can easily erase your early mistakes
and dismiss them as being imperfect
but important first steps,
as if they were chalk drawings
on a blackboard or a side-walk;
things at the start can take a while to master,
but when that thing that you were missing
the entire time clicks into place
like an integral puzzle-piece
what you are doing makes much more sense,
and every time you repeat the same act
you get better and better –
not to mention faster and faster.

Breaking a barrier;
crossing a threshold;
walking a wire;
deciding to be decisive and bold;
doing something you have always wanted to do;
facing a fear; learning something you never knew;
making something clear;
everyone has a moment of realization
and decides to take a leap
into a defining life-changing decision.

When you have been stuck
in one place for a long time,
and the only direction
you think you have been going in at all is back,
when you really want to go forward
to something new that will make you happy,
even though you think you know what you want
it can be hard to know what you should do,
when you have an opportunity
to take a chance but you have to act fast,
if you have a goal and a perfect ending in your mind
and you believe with all your heart,
and you do all that you know you can do,
I guarantee you that there will come a moment
when you will have a breakthrough.

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