My Poem ‘Busk for you’

Strumming guitar strings,
a phenomenal voice
singing into a microphone,
an amazing and captivating
reverberation of sound –
a singer, a guitar player,
an artist, a hopeful dreamer,
an entertainer, someone with a gift
who is now standing at the centre
of a circle of people,
playing their heart out,
and singing every song as if they mean so much to them,
and as if every song were a song that had be written for them;
entrancing, inspiring, amazing,
making everyone stop and stare, smiling,
and even moving a black man
in a white hat holding a basket-ball
to stop in his tracks
and start dancing like Michael Jackson.

It always amazes me how much and how deeply
music can move and touch someone,
it has always enthralled me no-end
the connection that people form with certain songs;
it has always brought me joy
to see the happiness on the face
of someone who just loves singing
and who loves playing their instrument;
it always inspires me to be up close
to share some time with the gifted
and the artistic people that I randomly meet,
who are wonderfully exceptional and brilliant,
because they are so different.

I have seen performers of every age,
colour, gender, and ethnicity,
performing publicly, in all weathers,
in every city and town that I have been to;
I have watched singers, violinists,
guitarists, brass-bands, choirs,
full-orchestras, change and effect
the very air and the atmosphere of somewhere
and share hope through their music;
I have been moved in so many ways
emotionally by every artist whom I have listened to;
I have always envied singers and musicians –
because, anyone can write a rhyme,
anyone can have an idea come to them,
and anyone can tell a story,
but only a singer or a musician
can bring words and notes to life
in such a way that elevates them
from a page to make them truly epic.

When a busker is busking
they never want to stop playing,
and when they are playing
they never want to rush;
when a singer and a musician
who loves what they do
gets the chance to play,
they experience a feeling of true divine love;
when an instrumentalist
is masterfully bringing together
all the notes before them
and combining them into one
perfect expression of sound,
they feel and they know their instrument
so well that both player and instrument
have for each other a mutual trust;
when a busker is playing on their street corner,
or in the open space
where they feel the most comfortable playing,
and where everybody knows that they are going to be,
all that they want to do
is play like there is no tomorrow,
and busk for you.

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Check out the amazing Esther Turner on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/esthermusic and on Twitter at @Esther_Ninja

My Poem ‘The Outer Limits’

Ever since the first astronomers of Earth
looked up at the sky to the stars and the planets,
humanity has been asking questions of themselves
about their relevance and about just how rare
and important they are within the universe;
humanity has been searching the galaxy and beyond
for a signal from another galactic inhabitant,
and even to this day there are those
who openly proclaim that because we have not yet
made contact with another form of intelligent life
in the Milky Way that we are the superior species
to be found anywhere, and that Earth is and could only be
the only inhabited world.
When I look above, I can almost hear the call
of a fellow interstellar searcher
and the beating heart of a fellow poet of the stars
being inspired by their muse
and taken away in mind, spirit, and soul,
to their imagination outer-limit.

We here on Earth know only too well
that feeling of awe and intrigue
that we feel when we see photographs
being returned to Earth from man-made probes
of distant worlds – that we have all known about
and heard about, but which have never been seen before;
we all experience sheer breathtaking amazement
whenever something happens above us and around us
that may only happen once in a lifetime;
when we watch a rocket launch,
or when we witness the first footsteps
and impressions made by someone or something
on an unknown and undiscovered brand new land,
we all return to the memory of when we were a child
making an airplane out of folded paper
and watching it be carried on the wind, and sour;
we, I, always go ten steps beyond
when the thought of what and who could be out there,
in the dark, on their own planet, imagining us,
as we imagine them, and what just the knowledge
of each others’ existence would mean
and would do to the thoughts
and to the dreams of the others’ mind.

Every form of life is special and unique;
every planet orbiting around every star
is like the integral and unmissable
musical notes of a galactic symphony
that have their own vibration and sound to them,
that when heard playing with the rest
of the interstellar musical instruments and keys,
as well as on their own, sound nothing short of perfect;
everything that happens in space
is always a spectacle to us all here on Earth,
even if it is the sight of a fly-by by a passing comet.

Being a poet, I naturally look at life
and the universe slightly differently
to how someone else might see it –
however, I believe that everyone can see
inspiring wonders and they can be inspired
to take a trip of discovery
into an exciting new frontier,
and explore the amazing mysteries and questions
that drive us all when and if
we choose to step into the realm
of the outer limits.

My Poem ‘Petrichor’

The air is cool;
the thunder and the lightning of last night
have taken away and abated
the feeling of fire that had been burning my skin;
the stormy weather of last night
apparently put on quite a show –
however, right at this moment,
the bright morning light
is streaming through the window;
and like every day that I venture out
into the world, I am hearing things
that I have never heard before,
and I am seeing things and people
that I have never before seen.

I slept like a still sea last night;
I never once woke up
nor was I awoken by any sound of rumbling
or by any flash of light;
when I opened my eyes from my dream,
I looked and I saw the sight
of a beautiful vision before me:
an intense light, brighter than lightning,
enlightened everything and made my world shine,
and the sound that I heard
that sounded like thunder
was my heart beating in my chest;
and as the new day began,
I knew that I could no longer linger or rest –
because what I felt next, to me,
has always been the best.

Making connections;
connecting the dots;
painting a picture of impressions;
seeing the gold within the rock;
understanding the true nature of life and the world;
finding and breathing in the clear and fresh morning air,
and inhaling that extraordinary and unmistakable smell;
feeling happy and sure;
stretching and reaching out
like a newborn chick that has only just
broken free of its shell.

People feel intensely and deeply;
everybody has instincts;
people want to feel secure, as well as free;
everybody can imagine anything
and everything in a single blink;
it has always amazed me
how much our surroundings talk to us
and what they say about us;
it has always fascinated and inspired me
how much life there is above ground,
as well on the ocean floor;
it has always excited me
every time that I have considered and thought
that I and everybody were once cosmic dust,
and that what makes me and us,
who I am and who we are,
also makes the stars what they are –
and, to me, that is enough to make
anyone’s blood rush;
it has always brought alive in me the light in things,
every time that I have taken in
the wonderful planet that I live on,
after a hot day and a stormy night,
and inhaled the air
and became instantly intoxicated
by the smell of petrichor.

My Poem ‘True Calling’

There is a reason
why a writer is a writer;
there is a reason
why an artist is an artist;
there is a reason
why a singer is a singer;
there is a reason
why someone can pick up an instrument
that calls to them,
and why when they play
they can do so epically and with such ease.

Acting without thinking,
moving with fluidity,
expressing without talking,
feeling the intensity
and the deep meaning
and wonder of your natural ability,
and not having to try;
being yourself; living the good life;
feeling rejuvenated to overflowing
and perfect health.

Words, numbers, sight, sound,
taste, touch, day, night,
sense, style, view, voice,
darkness, light;
symbols, windows, music, life,
colour, vibrations,
leap, dive, rise, and shine.

There are some things you “just know”;
there are some songs you replay
that will never get old;
there are some things that “just flow”;
there are some things you can see
and understand without having to be told.

Music is life filtered,
interpreted and expressed, through the senses,
inspired by the seasons and the surroundings
that the artist finds themselves,
that comes from the source and the heart
that lives to breath and beat
constantly and indomitably;
muse is inspiration made tangible –
which you can touch with your mind,
with your body, with your spirit and soul,
that keeps your artistic fire alight,
and keeps alive your unquenchable desire
to express the inexpressible.

What is meant for you
will always catch you
if you ever find yourself falling;
believe in destiny;
never forget that which to you is truly beautiful;
listen to what is all around you;
follow and answer that which to you
is your true calling.

My Poem ‘The Beach’

It has been a beautiful day;
it has been a day to remember
in so many ways;
the sparkling and the warm sand
beneath my feet that I am sitting on
feels amazing;
the glistening golden sea
that looks as if it could be
the surface of the sun –
because it looks in every way
like an ocean of pure energy –
is breathtaking;
as I look out and I see
the most beautiful and unbroken blue sky,
my heart skips a beat;
as I close my eyes,
I am transported in my mind
to a deserted island,
surrounded by palm trees –
in my imagination, I am a castaway
living a life free to be
whomever I want to be –
I have no worries,
I have no distractions,
I am self-sustaining
and I live off and alongside nature
and every day I walk my island paradise
and I swim in the beautiful blue sea;
I read the books that I brought with me,
and I daily write down what I see –
what I think about and what I feel
about life in my journal and diary;
I listen to the sound of the waves
and each one is like the voice of an old friend
stopping by to say ‘hello’;
I hear the music of my youth
playing from out of nowhere;
and when I think about the outside world,
and about my friends and family living their lives
far away, their faces appear
as if sculpted by the billion of grains
of sand that I see below me.

My hair is long;
my beard is substantial;
my skin is brown;
my home is a hand-built house
of cut down trees that has a roof of green
and hard-wearing leaves;
from my favourite spot,
looking out at my favourite view,
I have seen unimaginable sights:
dolphins, turtles, whales;
just off the coast, below the waves,
there is the most stunning
and beautiful coral reef.

To me, this place is heaven;
to me, this life could not be anymore perfect;
to me there is nowhere else in the entire world
where you could see the sun rise and the sun set,
and lay down on your back and see
a 360-degree view of the Milky-way galaxy’s
infinite and magnificent stars
shining their incredible and magical light,
in a place that is in every way
the definition of idyllic.

In my daydream, I look to the oncoming waves
and I see something bobbing up and down
before being washed up on the beach in front of me
and within touching distance of the toes of my feet;
I am not phased by the sight of the plastic bottle
and the evident message on a piece of paper
that is contained within –
however, when I reach down for the bottle
and I unscrew the lid and I reach in
and pull out the piece of paper,
it takes me awhile to realize
the messages’ meaning
because of how profound
the four-words of it are,
it takes a while to sink in.

I am brought back to reality in a flash!
As I look at the world, and to the sea,
everything looks even more stunning
and beautiful than it had appeared before.
Still with the message from my daydream
echoing in my mind like a bell,
I decide to write the same message
in pen on a torn-out page
from my nearby journal…
I write the same message
in the same way as it had appeared to me
only seconds before in my imagination,
and then I put the message
in an empty bottle of water
that I had brought with me earlier,
I stand up,
I run towards the ocean
and I throw my message in a bottle out
as far as I can
for someone to find in the future,
for someone to discover and read;
and then I sit back down
and I watch the sea again,
and I am again taken away
to a far-away place –
all the while, I am sitting in the sun
on the sand of this gorgeous beach.

My Poem ‘For the record’

Like the Earth orbiting the sun;
like the solar system
spinning around the core of the galaxy;
like the sounds that can be heard
while listening to the noise
of the interstellar background;
like the racing heart beat
of somebody out on a run;
like the natural soundtrack of life
that you can hear and feel
which you can imagine with great detail
without needing to see it;
like the sound of waves crashing on a beach;
when you listen to the music
that sings to your soul
and inhabits your heart
that has been recorded
in the most exquisite quality possible –
in memory, on CD, on vinyl,
the spirit of the music, the artist,
the magic and the depth of the human mind
and body gives you back every time
something you wait with anticipation
to be found so that it may
again and again resound
and make you feel as if
your feet have left the ground.

People love music;
music is so adored and worshiped
it is like a religion;
music can inspire people to be
and to do anything:
to be brave, to be thoughtful,
to be artistic, to be prolific;
everyone knows what their favourite song
or piece of music is,
and everybody has a personal
and a profound reason for why
their song is their song.

Music has been a part of our lives
since we were born;
albums and artists have been talking to us
and taking us to our dreams
since we heard our first old-favourite;
music is at the centre of our universe
that rotates just as fast
as the grooves of a vinyl album on a turntable;
listening to music is always a blessing,
and never a chore;
there is so much music that has been created
that is epic and great;
music is a gateway to an astoundingly-beautiful
and magical world.

Music is the eternal and universal love
that everybody and anybody can enjoy
and be blessed with their entire lives;
music is what we all share
an invisible connection to
and are attached to every second
by an unbreakable umbilical-cord;
music is the abundant source of energy
that makes life what it is,
just as much as the sun’s light;
music is the single most important,
meaningful and memorable thing
that the human race will be remembered for
by future generations and fellow space-travelers –
and all we do will live on forever
as our greatest monument of ourselves
for the record.

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My Poem ‘Turned Around’

While in the woods,
I got lost, I got turned around, and I lost my way;
while in the woods,
my path disappeared like pavement drawings
after a shower of rain;
while in the woods,
the wind blew through the trees;
while in the woods, time froze;
while in the woods,
there wasn’t a definitive direction for me to see;
while in the woods,
I found myself somewhere I did not know.

While in the woods, I heard distant noises;
while in the woods, my own potent survival instincts
focused every and all of my choices;
while in the woods, I walked past a tree
that looked as if it had been burned from the inside out,
as if it has been struck by lightning;
while in the woods, as I walked further,
I knew that the day was getting later,
because of the darkening of the day-lighting.

While in the woods, with every step that I took,
the colour of the leaves on the ground got darker and darker,
and after a time it looked as if I were walking on, and in, space,
because everything was black;
while in the woods, there were no signposts,
or anything that I or anyone could use as a marker,
and as my perception of time disappeared,
it did cross my mind for an instant
that I may never make it back.

While in the woods, the moon was the only source of illumination,
and even though it was an aid to me,
it still could not tell me where I should go;
while in the woods, you hear things rustling all around you,
but because there is hardly any light to see by,
knowing what might only be inches away from you
is something that you turn over in your imagination;
while in the woods, you feel the hairs on the back of your neck
stand on-end, and you wonder if, at some point,
you may not notice an obstacle right in front of you,
that might trip you up and send you head over toe;
while in the woods, you feel like you could walk for hours,
because your body and your mind
know that they should not be here after dark,
and all feelings of hunger or exhaustion
become distant memories and do not cross your mind for a second,
and as soon as you lose any semblance of sight,
all of your other senses unbelievably and radically become heightened.

While in the woods, you feel more deeply,
and your thoughts become louder;
while in the woods, and alone, your inner-voice becomes audible,
as you start talking to yourself,
and even the breaking of the tinniest of twigs
sounds like the roar of a crashing boulder.
While in the woods, you forget why you are in the woods,
and you ask yourself questions
that you might never have thought to ask at any other time before,
and may never ask those same questions again afterwards in the future,
but at the time you are asking them they are incredibly profound.
While in the woods,
you eventually find yourself in the very spot where you entered,
which may seem like a life-time ago,
however in reality you may discover that the time
is not what you think it is,
and the person that is you is not the one of the same mind,
and no longer focused on the same things,
as the you who walked into the woods,
and who somehow got turned around.

My Poem ‘Eye-Catching’

City lights at night;
shining multi-coloured baubles on a Christmas tree;
the sparkle in someone’s look that catches your eye;
flashing billboards and illuminated signs
that are like special-effect explosions from a movie.

Things designed to stand-out;
colours that always elicit an effect;
emotions that flood all your senses
from the instant that they are first felt;
beautiful creations that are perfect.

Birds, animals, insects, fish,
dolphins, mammals, humans,
all have a sense of beauty and attraction
and that can be explicitly seen
when they are attempting to attract the attention of a mate;
everyone and every thing uses a combination of many things –
sound, colour, movement, interest, smell, intuition –
to drive the sense of their opposite sex wild,
like opening up an overwhelming emotional floodgate.

Nature teaches us that nothing happens by accident;
instinct shows us that no matter how strong we are,
or how much we resist,
we can be captured and compelled to do things out of the ordinary;
the shining white moon above teaches us
that depending on the time of the month
even the way we think can be altered,
and in turn certain things can even affect the way we act;
love teaches us that there is nothing else like it
in the entire universe, and its intensity,
depth, feeling, and complexity,
is beyond any psychology or scientific theory.

Emotional attachment is a great and wonderful thing;
a persons reaction to even the sound of music playing
can tell you so many things;
our visual perception reaches into our soul sometimes
and creates a reaction deep within us
that can explode out of us like lava from a volcano,
and it can feel truly amazing.
The way are brains are wired, and what we think,
and what we do with what we see,
all depends on what we find fascinating,
exciting, mesmerizing, and eye-catching.

My Poem ‘The Psychology of Silence’

Silence speaks louder than sound;
silence is where true discovery is made;
silence is where truth is found;
silence is full of infinite space;
silence is where you can hear a heart beating,
or a heart breaking;
silence is a no mans land where no one can hide;
silence is waiting; silence is a tide.

There is no sound in space;
there is no sound in a vacuum;
silence has no face;
silence can hurt you.

Words on a page rise silently;
words written in ink have depth deeper
than the paper they are written on;
words are not the only poetry;
words are a way of transition.

If you can convey an intention, a feeling,
an emotion, a meaning, without making a sound,
or without the aid of anything
other than that of you and yourself,
you truly understand and are on the same wavelength
as that of nature;
if you can say something with an action
rather than with an empty sentiment,
then not only can you be a powerful presence
on the present, but also, more importantly,
a talisman for the future.

The planets of our solar system
orbit around the sun unheard;
if you were listening from high above
you wouldn’t be able to hear anything,
but you would know that humanity was there
by the tiny lights that we all make
from our place on the surface of the Earth;
everything, everyone, has a silent story
that speaks for itself, and themselves;
epic people and fantastic worlds
can be spoken to and journeyed to
within the pages of every book on every bookshelf.

A therapist uses silence as an essential tool
to open a person’s mind;
a fisherman uses silence and patience
in unison with their bait to catch their fish;
an artist uses silence along with the paint on their canvas,
and if need be could make great art blind;
anyone can decipher anything with knowledge and common-sense;
everything is there to be something
to something, or someone, else-
that is what I found and interpreted
when I analyzed what struck me
about the psychology of silence.