My Poem “Substantial sustenance”

It’s always great to experience new things…
it’s always great to see things
you have never seen before…
it’s always refreshing to go somewhere
you have always wanted to go
but have never been before…
it’s always enlightening to be exposed
to the sights, the sounds, the people,
and the unique identity of a community
all living and breathing
every aspect of their particular
village, town, region, or city.

It has always been a passion of mine
to seek out, to explore, to experience,
and to learn more about the many
different and diverse voices, accents,
faces, beliefs, and opinions
that make humanity the distinct species
of dreamers, storytellers,
and builders that we are…
when people go somewhere that
is renowned for representing
and practicing certain customs
and for communicating
in certain ways of speech
that cannot be witnessed nor heard
anywhere else in the world,
you can find yourself initially
overwhelmed and uninformed –
however, like with most things,
the more that you are exposed to
certain things, and to certain practices,
the more likely it is that you will
naturally accept what you are surrounded by
and over time you will naturally
assimilate certain things into
your unconscious daily routines.

Being a wanderer can be exciting…
being someone who is constantly
looking for inspiration and stimulation
can be encompassing and thrilling…
being someone who wonders
why things are the way that they are
can be revealing…
being someone who ventures
beyond their understanding of what
life is all about is to be someone
who accepts the mission of exploration
and discovery that might take them
to places that are both illuminating
in terms of knowledge and fulfilling
in terms of inspiration
that cannot be underestimated
and are an essential and a substantial
source of sustenance
for the mind, for the body,
and for the soul of who you are.

My Poem ‘Morningstar’

To me, writing is like driving;
to me, writing is like flying;
to me, writing is like diving;
to me, writing is like searching;
to me, writing is like remembering;
to me, writing is like imagining;
to me, writing is like smiling;
to me, writing is like crying;
to me, writing is like sharing;
to me, writing is like exorcising;
to me, writing is like star-gazing;
to me, writing is like trying
to capture something breathtaking
that almost defies explaining.

When the morning-star rises
it calls to all of us;
when the morning light shines
life below the surface of the Earth
is tempted to break-through the dust;
when the morning air is inhaled
into a near-infinite number of lungs
every-thing breathes in each-other;
when the morning colours reveal themselves
is when something amazing
and unexpected always occurs.

When I write
I look out,
I see things,
I feel something
and then I think…
when I write
sights and sounds become emotions
and meaning is transformed into words
that feel like they are
ready to be spoken on the tip of my tongue…
when I write
an entire new world of wonder
is built with every blink…
when I write
my imagination and my thoughts
race, explode, and flash brightly
like the lightning of a thunder-storm…
to me, writing is akin to watching
and experiencing in all its epic-magnificence
the great gift of seeing the sun rising.

The planet Venus is so far away
but shines so bright in the sky
that it is often mistaken for a star;
it isn’t until you see something up-close
that you can know if it is truly
all that you wished for it to be
when it was far-reaching and yet fascinating;
it isn’t every-one and every-thing
who gets to inspire and change the course of a life,
when in perspective to most things
they are but a dot in the dark;
I have been inspired by many things
since I first began writing,
but to me nothing and no-one
could ever compare to the beautiful shining face
of my angel who I see each and every morning.

My Poem ‘Living the dream’

Morning. Silence.
Blue sky. Sunday.
Sunshine. Green leaves.
The sound of flying birds and bees.
People having breakfast;
people cutting their lawn;
people still in bed
enjoying a well-earned rest;
people opening their eyes to the daylight;
people opening their mouths wide with a yawn.

Church bells ringing;
friends cycling;
music on the radio playing;
somebody somewhere
on the early morning ocean
sailing, loving, breathing, living.

Walkers, runners, riders,
painters, daydreamers, photographers,
embrace every moment of light and feeling;
diners, parishioners,
attend the same place of worship
and break bread together to prove
that they believe what they believe;
pilots, para-gliders,
balloonists, sky-divers
take to the air and defy gravity
and live the dream of touching the worlds ceiling –
people who just want to step away
from the rush of the world for a short time
and feel the amazing and the rejuvenating energy
of total and utter release.

People experiencing awe;
people feeling wonder;
people traveling far;
people feeling hunger.
I look at the world
and I see depths of colour;
I listen to what I hear,
and I hear sounds
from every length of the sound spectrum –
from water-drops in a pond
to the joyous explosion
of a child’s laughter.

Life is important;
life and purpose is individually indefinable,
and yet understandable, tangible,
as well as miraculously magical;
life can only be lived once;
life and dreams can sometimes be indistinguishable;
life is living and not worrying
about the things that people sometimes say
and the things that some people do;
life is reading, feeling, sharing,
and witnessing the dream of life come true.

My Poem ‘Children of Tomorrow’

Children always adapt to change quicker;
learning new things to a child is always easier;
children are always asking questions
in search of answers –
sometimes even from strangers;
there is no one as braver as a child,
because to them there is no such thing as danger.

Even though I am slowly growing up
I still share the same fascination
and the same keen interest in the world
and in people as I did when I was a boy;
I can still remember who I was –
what I saw, what I thought,
what I heard, what I felt –
and when I hear a child of today
ask the same questions as I did
when I was younger it fills me with joy.

A city is like a playground to a child;
to a child all the different people
and everyone’s amazing eccentricities
are both wonderful and confusing
at varying times of a given hour;
a city is like being on a great adventure,
when a child is with their parents
and guardians, and to them
it is like being out in the wild;
to a child in a city
every skyscraper is like a magical tower.

The sights and sounds of the world
echo louder and are more profound to a child
than to the ears of an adult;
as we grow older our minds and our hearts
become filled with so many memories,
feelings, and emotions that sometimes
only serve to distract you
from seeing the wonders of the world;
adults are constantly comparing,
where as children never stop seeing,
imagining, and dreaming.

Children know what it means to be alive,
and they never waste a moment to let it show;
a child knows things that some adults have forgotten
and unfortunately no longer understand and know;
children – in body, mind, and spirit –
constantly crave to be on the go;
oh what I wouldn’t give to be a child of today
and one of the lucky children of tomorrow!

My Poem ‘Unforgettable Sixth Avenue’

They don’t understand;
how could they?
Everything that happened,
everything that I wrote,
happened to me,
and I wrote it in my words
and from my perspective;
how could anyone else understand
what it was like to go through what I went through,
if they were not there at the time,
if they did not feel how I felt in the moment;
people tell that they like what I write,
but I wonder what they actually think,
what they imagine when they read something of mine,
and I wonder if anyone will ever be able
to truly be of the same mind as me.

I remember walking the streets of New York City,
like it was yesterday –
in my mind, and in my heart, I am still there,
and I want to be there:
I can still hear the sounds,
I can still taste the air,
I can still see the lights of Broadway at night,
I can still remember the moment I was found,
I can still go back there anytime of the day
in my imagination and daydream
even the smallest of details
that I still remember and love to this day,
as I will everyday.

I treasure my memories,
and I replay the best and the brightest of my life
as often as I can;
I miss people, places, times,
that will always be special to me,
more than anyone could imagine;
I relive my youth,
because those years I never want to lose;
I listen to the songs that I remember hearing
on the radio as a child, and I understand them
and what they were trying to say to me then,
now more than I ever knew.

My heart has been open wide since the day I was born;
every day of my life,
something unforgettable has happened to me,
and I remember so much
I wonder if there is anyone else
who loves being alive
and remembering their experiences as much as I do;
even now, I can easily flashback
to the most perfect day of my life,
to the night when I wrote my first poem,
or to the moment when I remember
standing on the street corner
on the “Avenue of the Americas”,
on a beautiful September afternoon,
in Manhattan, in New York City,
and being in awe of the entire world
and the gifts of life
that I can still see happening right this second,
on Sixth Avenue.

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