My Poem “Working Day”

Ice scraping… wheels spinning…
wind blowing… people shivering…
the air of the morning is freezing…
the winter weather of
this new morning is unforgiving.

Turn the heat up to the max…
watch your footing upon those slippery paths…
keep those windows closed
or you will feel the snap
of that deadly draft.

Blue sky… birds chirping as they fly…
Looks like the traffic is light?
But now red lights? Why?
I think some people need
to relearn how to drive?

Busy bees of the city –
people with somewhere to be…
On the radio I hear
that some trains have been cancelled,
that some cars have
broken down on some highways –
and I bet that there more than
a few people asking themselves right now
the question: why me?

Bikers weaving lane to lane –
those riders have got to be on their game…
A near-miss? Wow! That was close!
If that rider had been any slower then
right now they’d be toast.

Get to work with time to spare –
not the best feeling to be there…
hot coffee, calls to make,
not long until the next break…
hopefully the time today flies by –
hopefully 9 will soon turn into 5.

Driving home…
my bed is calling…
my phone is dying…
my stomach is rumbling…
might need to get
some take-out on my way –
because if I don’t
it’ll soon be too late.

Home safe… legs ache…
take-out meal still warm? Great!
Time to watch some TV? Ok!
Eyelids soon get heavy…
Hard to concentrate…
Need to sleep…
These days it is not as easy
as it used to be to stay up late.

Seems like the instant
that my head hits the pillow
my alarm clock is already waking me up –
and whether it want to or not
now I need to roll out of bed
and get up.

Another day, another dollar…
once again I am getting dressed,
and flattening down my collar –
and soon enough I am heading
out of the house
to restart the cycle,
and as always I hope and I pray
that I can once again make it through
the “rat race” of all that
life throws at the average person
on a typical, busy, often exhausting,
modern day, wild west of a working day.

My Poem “Superstitious”

Ghosts from the past are real…
real witches were once tried
and sentenced to death
all around the world…
myths and legends of individuals
capable of doing supernatural acts
have been recorded and they have
become a part of the history
of every civilisation on Earth.

Superstitions were once taken
even more seriously than they are now
and over time most societies
have assimilated certain long-held believes
into their daily lives and they still
carry some meaning to them –
like not having a house on a street
with the number thirteen,
counting the number of starlings
that people see and interpreting their
number to mean that there
are invisible forces at work,
or hesitating at the possibility
of having to cross the path of a black cat.

Certain words, certain names,
certain numbers seemingly
have a natural weight
and a significance to them
that has only grown over time,
as more people continue to believe
that certain symbols and signs
are precursors to a particular
event transpiring.

Some of the things that happen
to people are considered to be too “spooky”
to be judged as being mere coincidence:
moments like when you are thinking
about someone in particular
and then the next minute that same
person is calling you on the telephone,
or that feeling of being at the exact
right place at the exact right time
to reap the rewards of a fortune,
or when you wish for something
to happen and seemingly,
remarkably, the thing that want
comes to pass and puts a smile on your face.

“Old Wives Tales” always have
a tried and tested ring of truth to them…
carrying out a particular routine
before committing yourself
to do something
has been known to be effective
in giving someone a sense
of peace of mind…
some people have hand-on-heart
admitted to have had near-death
experiences that cannot be explained…
some people will do anything
and everything not to step on a crack
on the side-walk, or step underneath a ladder,
or look a crow in the eye
for fear that the consequences
could be deadly and hazardous to their health.

Some people could not care less about
superstitions and refer to them
as “nonsense” and “rubbish” –
however, there are still many people
who believe all that they have
ever been told since they were young
who always carry out
the necessary customs
needed to counteract the “bad luck”
that may have been triggered,
and their are people who swear
by the validity of every word
of every superstition
that they have ever heard.

My Poem “Up With The Crows”

I’ve always been an early riser…
I’ve always awoken before
the sun has risen above the horizon…
I’ve always bee someone lucky enough
to have been given the gift of being
able to hear and to be able to listen
to the beautiful symphony
and the majestic choir of the dawn chorus
sung by all manner of birds.

I’ve always been a poet who has looked,
listened, and took in the spirit
and the essence that greets me
every morning when I open up
all of my senses to all the wonders
and all the magic that I have felt –
all the inspiration that has been
conjured within my mind
that have been converted into perfect words.

Some mornings I wake up
and I am instantly and automatically
ready for the day ahead of me,
and then there are those mornings
when it takes me a minute or two
to find my bearings
and get my priorities straight…
some mornings I feel like
I am ahead of the game,
and some mornings I feel like
my brain is running late.

Every morning is definitely
a different morning than the one
that came before and it will definitely
be different from the one that will follow;
however, I am just like everybody else
and I too have my own version
of a morning routine that I believe
stands me in good stead
and starts my day off on the right foot –
and I like to think that every morning
I am prepared to zig and to zag
and to adapt to every thing that the world
is just waiting to throw my way.

Some mornings, my thoughts, my feelings,
my blood, runs fast –
and some mornings, like a car
stuck in a traffic-jam,
the highway of my consciousness runs slow;
however, I can honestly report
that there hasn’t been many mornings
during my life, even as child,
when I have not woken up
with a brand new idea in my mind
that I want to caw about
and at the same time as the crows.

My Poem “Autopilot”

During the day when I am at work
I feel like I am on autopilot –
while at night I feel free to be,
free to live how I want to live,
and free to dream while still awake
about the things that complete
my heart and make me happy.

Cycles and routines define our existence
in this modern age, as they always have
in one way or another, in some shape or form…
most living things have their own preference
when it comes to when they feel
the most energized and alive –
some feel their most inspired
while gazing up at a sky of starlight,
while others feel invigorated
when the first light of the sun breaks at dawn.

Sometimes we do things so often, day after day,
that they become second nature to us
and we do them without even thinking…
when something or someone becomes
a constant in our lives
we can come to believe that
a life without them in it would not be worth living.

There are times in our lives when we need to make a choice,
but we don’t know how to make it –
and when that predicament occurs
each and every one knows that we can allow destiny
to choose for us and let God take the wheel of our life
and steer us in the direction that we are fated to take.

Autopilots are great… autopilots are amazing…
autopilots are a simple solution to a complex problem –
however, where is the living? Where is the fun?
Where is the imagination that comes out of the random?
Life can sometimes be predictable
and what happens next can sometimes be predicted,
and there is nothing wrong with that –
however, in my experience, nothing can ever compare
to the act of spontaneity and living in the moment.

Sometimes, because we think that we can predict
the outcome of something, we can become complacent
and we no longer expect the unexpected –
and, in a way, that is a good thing,
because when something happens that our inner autopilot
does not know how to deal with
each of us is forced to adapt and think outside the box
that we sometimes feel trapped within,
and we must do what we human beings do best:
live, dream, imagine, and act on our instincts.

My Poem ‘The Foreseeable’

No matter how much the climate changes…
no matter the year, the decade, or the century…
no matter the faces of the famous
displayed online or printed
on the black and white newspaper pages…
no matter how we interact with one-another –
face to face, or by using the most
up-to-date technology…
some things will never change
and will always stay the same…
no matter what the names are
of the games that people love to play…
days and dates will always continue
to mean something –
especially on those occasions
when people can celebrate
and enjoy light that never stops sparkling.

Many of us are creatures of habit –
I, myself, have walked the same way,
done the same things,
listened to the same music so many times
that people could probably
set their clocks by me –
some may wonder what it is
about my almost daily-routine
that stimulates me and keeps me
from repeating my actions
to the degree that they become boring;
however, all I can say
is that no matter how many times
I go to the same place,
or I do the same thing,
every single day
I see something,
I hear something,
I learn something
that I never knew before –
and, to me, each new day
and every new person that I see
is a mystery to observe and explore.

Routine keeps the world turning;
repeating keeps an engine from stalling;
re-reading keeps a person’s thoughts running;
reevaluating everything you see
keeps the world exciting and inspiring;
reminding yourself of why it is important
to do some things regularly
remedies any and all short-comings
about you or your life
that you feel there may sometimes be.

For the vast-majority of our lives,
most of the things that happen to us
are predictable;
we all can have a so-called “ordinary day”,
during which there will be something
that will happen that will be remarkable;
our life’s cycles are some of the most
special and personal things
that we can always rely on and fall back on,
and they are what make our lives
feel full and wonderful;
the world will consistently remain
changeable, recyclable,
and indomitably-incapable
of not trying to reinvent itself
without breaking its own mould –
and in doing so
everything and everybody
will always have a part of them
that will be both random
and foreseeable.