My Poem “Love is Everything”

Love is the beginning… Love is the end…
Love is the reason the stars keep shining…
Love is the gift that can do anything…
Love is that indefinable feeling
when your heart skips a beat,
or when you feel that indescribable
flutter of joy in your stomach
that makes it hard to speak…
Love is what completes you…
Love is what makes you who you are…
Love is what radiates from you
like the light of a constant star…
Love is divine… Love is complex…
Love is what defies the passage of time…
Love is the spirit that knows no rest…
Love is life… Love is rebirth…
Love is the greatest power in the universe…
Love is the reason that you keep going…
Love is the reason that you keep breathing…
Love is the reason that you keep dreaming…
Love is the reason to keep living –
because Love is… Love is Everything.

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My Poem “Nomino”

Some words and some names
naturally emanate their true meanings…
some words and some names
naturally reveal their definitions
by being spoken with feeling…
words like “Malibu”,
phrases like “The Gold Coast”,
places like “Los Angeles”,
say so much succinctly and concisely
about their identities, as if subconsciously…
names like “Melissa”, “Bernadette”, and “Clare”,
are names bestowed upon and given to those
who are the most beautiful, stunning, graceful,
caring, and kind, who are so named
for a reason and not accidentally…
our life experiences, our memories, and our emotions
of course play into the resonance of certain things
and why we think of them as we do –
but some words and some names
do have an undeniable power to them…
some names and some words have the magic within them
to conjure up images, faces, feelings,
and they are like triggers that can start a chain-reaction…
some names and words are lyrical, they are musical,
and every syllable in their pronunciation
can have the effect of making someone smile as happy as a child,
or make someone feel as euphoric as if they had taken a drug –
but that is the amazing thing about language:
it gives us the gift of communication
and it gives us all the means to marvel in fascination.

My Poem ‘Where did you come from? I wasn’t expecting you?’

Within the blink of an eye,
within the flash of a burst of sunlight,
within an instant of time,
within a single simple impression
that touches you
when you see something
or someone at first-sight…
have you ever considered
what that moment is made up of
and where it comes from?
Have you ever thought about
what all the world
and all life is built upon?

There is always a before,
and there is always an after…
there is always energy,
and there is always matter…
there are always things
that you can’t understand
until you go through them…
there are always realities
that you can’t imagine
until you see them…
the most undeniable thing about life
is that you can never know everything
about it, about everyone who makes it,
about the depths and the secrets
of the universe beyond the sky
and our galaxy’s periphery outer-limit –
because every sphere has its own world…
every place has its own laws of nature…
every planet, every region of space,
has its own history, creation, story,
leaps in evolution, and future.

There is a reason for everything…
there is a reason we are all here…
there is a reason why nothing
can suddenly turn into something…
there is a reason for hope…
there is a reason for fear…
there is a reason for why
there are things that we need to know,
and there is a reason and a meaning
behind what makes us smile
and what brings us to tears.

Some things in life we hope for,
we plan for, we expect,
and we need to happen
to give our life the drive
and the spark to fill the world
with all that we were born to give…
sometimes when you are not expecting
to find paradise or perfection
you can stumble upon an oasis
or someone who to you is the most beautiful…
some things are so precious and meaningful,
and in every way they must be held
close to your heart as a gift…
sometimes life can become so simple,
especially when you look up
and you see something new
and you say to yourself loud and clear:
where did you come from?
I wasn’t expecting you?

My Poem ‘Standing Rock’

All ground is sacred ground…
the Earth beneath our feet
has its own identity…
the world that moves silently through space,
and its spirit, is so powerful and nurturing
that it creates its own gravity
and a near-perfect environment
for all life to thrive and live…
all that breath in the air of the planet
to which we are all bound and indebted
are expected to not only take away,
but to give back in return…
our home, this world, is the home
of countless species and forms of life –
each and every-one given from birth
the rite to exist and fulfill their destiny…
some people have learned to understand
and interpret the timeless language of nature,
and they also understand that not only
does the Earth have a spirit –
so too do the trees, the plants,
the animals, the mountains, the rivers,
the seas, the fish, the microscopic organisms
smaller than the human eye can see…
every thing with a consciousness,
with thoughts, with feelings, with emotions,
with instincts, with a reason to be,
has a reason to be alive…
even a single drop of rain adds to our planets worth…
we are all luckier than we know
to live on the planet that do…
long after all the stories of our lives
have faded to dust, the Earth will still have
a billion and more mornings and nights,
Winters and Summers, frosts and thaws,
and the world will live on –
and though humanity will have gone,
we will still be ingrained in the DNA
of our home-world, and our monuments will remain,
just as the beautiful natural-monuments of Earth
will continue to boggle the mind
of everyone who is lucky enough to see
our planet’s deepest reaches
and its breath-taking, towering,
and still-standing mountains,
and epic formations –
our most special and sacred
wonders of Earth and rock.

mypoem-standingrock

My Poem ‘The Messenger’

Everybody is here on this Earth,
everybody is a part of this world,
for a reason – but, sometimes,
most of the time, more often than not,
people have no idea why…
I, however, know exactly why I am here,
why I am alive, and what my reason to live is
and will be until the day I die:
I am a messenger, but not a messenger
that you may expect,
I do not look like any “messenger”
that I have seen in my life –
I do not wear a uniform,
and what I does not always require me to drive…
I suppose I am like an old-fashioned telephone receiver,
and when I receive a very important call
with a very important message to be delivered to someone
I answer it without question or hesitation
and I go to pass on what I have been asked to deliver.

I never know who the sender is,
I never know who the recipient will be –
I only know a face, sometimes I even know a first-name;
I do not know what the message I am delivering is
sometimes until the moment that I deliver it…
I don’t even know where I am going
until I see the signs showing me the way
to where I need to get to –
it’s like I am painting a picture of something
that hasn’t happened yet as I take each and every step,
and it is only at the end of my delivery
that I can see the complete picture in its entirety,
like stepping back and looking at a canvas
newly-framed and mounted on the wall of a gallery.

I have delivered more messages than I can remember:
a young man sitting on a bus…
I remember telling him something
that his older sister wanted him to know:
that even though she had run away from home she still loved him
and that they would see each-other again one day –
some of the messages are so emotional to deliver,
I cannot help but break-down in tears
as I give them their message,
but in the same breath I love being the bearer of hope
and that sometimes invisible and silent hand
upon a person’s shoulder
telling them that every-thing is going to be alright.

I am not sure why I was chosen…
I am not sure who it was who chose me…
I am not sure if I am doing God’s work…
I am not sure what happens next
after I reach out, on behalf of someone else,
to another person…
I am not sure if my delivery of the message
is delivered in the same way as was intended –
most of the time I can deliver
what the message is with a look
and with a burst of thought,
like I am the conductor
of some kind of psychic-electricity;
sometimes I just let the message do all the work
and I just watch from behind my own eyes
while my body acts as if it has been possessed
by some kind of magical curse.

To most people who meet me,
I am nothing more than a stranger;
to a higher-power,
I am the one whom they chose
to be their psychic-amplifier;
to the sender of the messages that I send,
I am a link to someone who they want to talk to
without having to use their own voice –
I am their secret-teller,
I am one of their story-tellers…
I am here, I am there,
to be close and near to someone,
so that I can be who from a small child
I was always destined to be:
‘The Messenger’.

My Poem ‘Fallen Angel’

It’s happened again.
Why has it happened again?
Tomorrow it will happen.
Next week it will happen.
A hundred years ago it happened.
When will it stop?
When will our race stop killing itself.
There are cancers and viruses and infections
that kill people everyday –
humanity should not have to worry
about one of its own kind
being bad for their health.
But it happens everyday.
People not only die, they are killed.
People not only do not get to live a full-life,
but in most cases they don’t even get the chance
to say goodbye.
It’s horrifying. It feels like it should be inhuman.
It’s almost soul-destroying.
No one should have to worry
about not returning home again
when they walk out the door in the morning.
And yet, most of the time,
it is what, or someone, who you don’t know
who is thinking about themselves
and what they believe –
which means more to them
than the life of someone else –
who decides which day will be your last day
to be blessed by the light of the sun.

I always only want to see
the positive in something or someone;
I always only want to think
that every-thing happens for a reason;
I always only want to see hope and not fear –
however, there are some days
when the worst things happen,
even to someone you do not know,
when the best and the only response
you can possibly give
is one that is expressed with words and in tears.

Why do good people have to die?
Why can’t it be the worst of humanity
who are exterminated from the face of the Earth –
like the cockroaches and the parasites that they are?
Why must some lives only be a short life?
Deaths happen when people are fighting in a battle –
but the majority of people in the world
are not and do not want
to find themselves in the middle of a war.

It is sad to see and to hear
that there are still people in the world
who do not understand how precious life is;
it is heart-breaking that in this day and age
that people still do not realize
that differences are a good thing,
and that with understanding can follow
the most incredible wave of love;
it is such a shame that people
are still being exposed to such horror
the like of which completely eclipses
the scary-stories that we remember
being told when we were kids;
I hope that one day humanity will evolve
beyond how we are now
and that there will be a day
when we will no longer have to mourn
the untimely passing and the slaying
of a fallen angel.

My Poem ‘Special Education’

A student is only as good
as the teacher who teaches them;
a teacher’s true gift
is giving their student a reason to listen;
everyone is a student all their life;
every parent is the greatest teacher,
idol, role-model, and inspiration
of their child.

Teaching can be easy for the knowledgeable;
learning can be hard for the slow;
inspiring someone can be incredible;
understanding is like hearing a song
that you can’t stop listening to
after you hear it playing on the radio.

The best lessons are based on first-hand experience;
the greatest thing that you can give someone
is encouragement and confidence;
the best story-teller is an artist;
the greatest person you could ever know
is the one whom you both love and trust.

Learning can be addictive;
watching can be hypnotizing;
listening can be relative;
a perfect ending is that much more amazing
because it is the sum
of all the experiences
that were essential
in building that which grew
over time to mean everything.

We all need a reason to reach;
we all need a push when we all know
we need to make a jump;
we all need a strong foundation in the beginning,
and to preserve our own living identity
the up-and-coming next generation
need to know that it is not a crime
to let your imagination run free;
no matter what anyone tells you,
you know more and you can do more
than you realize,
and there has never been a question
that has ever been asked that was ever dumb.

What next? for a student is the best question;
Where now? for a teacher is like igniting
the fuel within the engine of a vessel of exploration;
Why? is capable of grabbing anyone’s attention;
With whom? can be all the difference,
and paying attention to the right person
at the right time can be the first lesson
to learn from in anyone’s version
of “special education”.