My Poem “Nature and Me”

There are some mornings
when I walk out into
the bright light of a new day
when I feel like I am being
compelled to walk in a particular
direction so that I may go somewhere
that my heart, my mind, my soul,
the path before me needs me to be –
and sometimes the place I am drawn to
is somewhere I find myself returning to:
a place where I felt an awakening within me.

A place of tall trees that has always
felt like a natural cathedral, a church,
a temple, a place of worship
that has always meant so much to me…
a sacred place that I have a connection to
since the moment I walked under
the sun-drenched summer leaves
of its canopy and since I first
walked upon and through the
glowing green grass that in
the summer time carpets
the forest floor before me.

A place of beauty seemingly far away
from the rest of the world
that has inspired countless inhales
of intoxication of the pine laced air
that has always been the cure
and the spark to bring alive
and bring together every thought,
every instinct, every hope,
every beat of my heart in unison
with one another.

When I am walking on my own
I always feel like I have been gifted
and I am following the path
that I need to take to bring
everything into focus, to give me clarity,
to see the poetry that explains
things so simply and yet so profoundly
without the need for an audible
explanation to be heard.

A spirit, a joy, a presence
has on numerous occasions
made me close my eyes and open
my arms wide as I take in every moment
that I feel directly connected
to the source of all life in the universe
that I feel is my greatest gift
and which I believe is that
inexplicable perception of reality
that people for a long time have had
many names for but which is commonly
known as their “sixth sense” –
that is what I feel and that is what I see
when there is no one else around
and it is just nature and me.

My Poem ‘In memory of’

One of the greatest things
you can do is remember;
one of the most touching things
you can do is to not forget;
one of the things that grounds us the most
is a memory that holds us in place
so that we don’t drift away –
some memories are like anchors;
one of the things that has stood the test of time
still remains the greatest archive
that could ever be envisioned…
and that place is a world,
and that world is our beautiful planet.

The lands of every country on Earth
are speckled with the graves
and the monuments of the lost and the fallen;
every society and every religion
remembers their people in different ways;
perhaps one day the only thing
that will remain of humanity on Earth
will be which still remains
engraved on worn-out vertical tablets –
electronically? solar-powered?
Or, perhaps, on good old-fashioned
marble and stone?

Humanity has changed and continues to change;
mankind is moving forwards,
but still continues to remember
and embalm that which to them is sacred;
humanity has the means to be
at-peace the world-over,
however some cannot live
unless there is a fight to be fought
and a war to be waged;
mankind can only be blamed
for what it has done and for what it still does –
every-body has to sleep
in the bed that we all make.

In my time here on Earth,
I have learned that some things
can be put off until tomorrow –
however, the most important things,
the people who we love and who love us,
should never be side-lined,
nor ever ignored;
I have learned more than once
throughout my life that, no matter what,
each and every one of us in our lives will be hurt –
however, that which becomes a part of us
we were gifted with so that when we need it
we can draw on something as powerful as a memory
to pick us up off the floor;
as I have lived, learned,
and occasionally lost,
I have slowly understood life more –
and I understand why there needs to be a hell below
just as there needs to be a heaven above;
I, personally, hold on with all that I am
every day to my memories
that I still return to when necessary…
when I need to leave my own monument
which is always anchored to the place,
or to the person, where, or to whom,
it was created in memory of.

My Poem ‘Mourning in Paris’

It’s morning in Paris;
people from all over the world
are in mourning;
the city of love
has a shadow hanging over it;
the free world was rocked during the night
by the actions of the agents of darkness;
and when I close my eyes now,
I listen and I can hear
the sound of Paris’ calling.

There is a golden silence;
the smell of burning
still lingers in the air;
kisses are still being shared
on the bridge of sighs;
people are praying for peace
while standing at the feet of the Eiffel Tower;
all eyes are looking for the answer
to the question: why?
eyes still sting with pain
at the thought of all the innocent people
who last night lost their lives.

All violence is needless;
every loss of life is an open-wound;
taking the life of another makes no sense;
the day when all of humanity
wakes up to the truth
that all life is sacred
is long over-due and cannot come too soon.

Fear can be paralyzing;
hope is a way and the road to healing;
the only answer to anger and hate
is to carry on shining
like a search-light in the dark
and be a constant beacon of peace;
standing together in solidarity
and extending a hand to those who are in need
is the only way to accept
and to get past a tragedy –
and that is why it is important
in the morning to remember
those who we have lost…
and this morning,
I am in mourning
and I stand shoulder to shoulder
and hopeful for peace
for the people of the city of Paris.

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My Poem ‘Cherokee’

Every group of indigenous people,
from every country and continent
around the world –
within their history,
within their teachings,
lies a deep-seeded belief
and a connection with the world,
as well as a bridge to use
to understand the importance of life and death:
both the Aboriginal people of Australia
and the Native American Indians and their tribes
have always known that the planet that is our home
has a name, an identity, and a spirit all of its own,
and they have always seen and considered
the Earth that we all walk on
as if it were the skin of an astral being,
and that there are places that are sacred
and need to be protected – so that,
like so many places of natural beauty
that have been lost, there are places
that will always remain
as they are meant to be and unscarred.

There were no greater storytellers,
there were no greater warriors,
there were no greater teachers,
there were and there are no greater
people who remember their inspiring ancestors,
than the Native Indians of North America –
everything that I have been told,
and everything that I have learned,
has been a revelation to me –
and, to me and to lots of people,
I would point to my fascination with them
and to their amazing and timeless culture
as the source from which from every question
I have received an infinite number of answers.

Since the dawn of humanity,
since the moment when
the first of all of our ancestors began to believe
in what they could feel was out there,
but that which they could not see –
the many tribes and cultures that have risen
have believed in a greater divine higher-power
that seeks to communicate a meaning
and a way of life that can be discovered at any time –
even though it may sometimes appear hidden.

The traditions, totems, dreams, thoughts, emotions,
that indigenous cultures teach us to be mindful of –
the tribes that believe that the stars of the sky
are the eyes of our ancestors
watching over us from above;
mountains, monuments, deserts, valleys,
even to this day and always,
are places and trails to some people
who believe that there are some things
and some people who must never be forgotten;
spirit-guides, animal-guides,
are said to be all around us –
and when we dream, Native American people
teach that Earth and its people
share a constant dialogue of language
and inter-connected communication.

Everybody alive shares ties
with the first tribe
that made that first journey
and took those first epic steps
that to them must have felt
as if they were on a star trek
in search of who they were;
everybody of the modern world
shares traits with whom it was
who struggled to get us all
to where we are now –
even though the faces of those first people
have long-since disappeared into history,
in each of our cells and our DNA
there are important and integral lines
of their timeless poetry;
everybody at some time has felt a presence
with them in the dark;
everybody must never forget where we all came from,
and we must all never forget
that to understand what we do not know
about the life we all have, knowing who we is the key:
that is why I relate,
and that is why I subscribe in every way,
to the teachings and to the customs,
and to the insightful and the divine wisdom
of respect for all life of the Cherokee.