My Poem “Decennium”

Time goes by so fast…
life goes by like a flash…
one minute you are
starting down upon a path
and the next thing you know
an entire decade of years has passed –
and when you look back
you see now what you could not see
back then all the things that would
not work out, as well as all the things
that would grow beyond
your ability to truly grasp.

It’s been ten years since
I declared loud and clear
that I was a Poet and that
I was going to write from the heart
and let my poetic gift
dictate where I would go
and what I would write…
ten years since people from far
and wide started to read what I wrote
and began to tell me that I should
collect what I had written together
and publish all my hopes, all my dreams,
and all my feelings within a book
that could be held, read,
and which could be a source
of inspiration for people seeking out
a literary ray of light.

Over the last ten years
I have written hundreds of poems,
I have written and I have compiled
ten books of poetry and stories
that were creations of my own
imagination, as well as inquiries
into the heart, the mind, and the soul
of humanity through multi-layered
characters, supernatural tales,
and of course through poems
that were often both questions
and answers that spontaneously
came to me when I began
every verse of my poetry.

Over the last ten years
I can honestly say that I have
learned so much about the world,
about people, about myself,
about writing, about publishing,
and if I knew ten years ago
what I know now then I would hope
that I would not change too much
about what I wrote and why –
even the many mistakes that I have made –
because if I had not done what I did
then I would not have learned
why some things matter
and why some things do not,
and why some things are a matter of
being there at the right place
and why some things are a matter of
being where you are at the right time
to sit down, to open up, to write,
and to leave your mark in some way.

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My Poem “Say No To Dystopia”

When I woke up this morning,
in my mind I felt like I had travelled
back in time to the year 1989 –
over thirty years in the past –
to a time in my life
when I began to become absolutely fascinated
by films and TV shows that depicted
what life would look like thirty years,
a hundred years, a thousand years in the future;
and this morning, while watching
a film called ‘Millennium’ –
a movie that centred around
the prospect and the concept
of time travellers travelling
back and forth in time
to save people before they died
and transporting them into the future –
I realized that almost thirty years before,
as a child, I was most likely watching
the same film that I was watching now on DVD
back then on VHS tape,
and while just as completely
enthralled now as I was by
what I saw depicted back then
I realise now that at the time
I did not fully understand what
the film trying to say.

Every film, every TV show, every book
whose story takes place
in a future setting and at a future time
always attempts to predict an accurate
depiction of how the world of tomorrow
will look, sound, feel,
and what the life of our descendants
will be like based upon an extrapolation
of the direction that some things
seem to be logically taking –
such as technology, fashion,
and the way that people treat one another –
and sometimes the world to come
is predicted to be one of hope, optimism,
universal understanding
and peaceful coexistence,
while some cautionary tales
predict that we may all be slowly
but surely spiralling into a world
that can only be described as being
dystopian
in which the children of tomorrow
have to live a hard and painful life
because of the short term actions
and mistakes of our present
which to them would be perceived
as their past.

Science Fiction writers and futurists
have been trying to warn people
what the future might be like,
and what the future world might
look like, if we – humanity –
do not stop and take a good, long,
and deep look at ourselves
while asking ourselves
where we are going wrong
and what we can do to build a better
world to leave for future generations
to be thankful for.

At this moment in time,
it sometimes feels like the world
is teetering on the edge of a precipice
from which there will be no coming back from:
a potential future that has been prophesied about
in science fiction tales for almost
a hundred years –
from H.G. Wells’ ‘The Time Machine’
to films like ‘Waterworld’ ‘Mad Max’,
‘The Matrix’, ‘Blade runner’,
and ‘The Terminator’ movies,
which all depict possible versions of our world
and a dark vision of the future
in which Earth’s natural resources
are in short supply or have been completely depleted entirely
and humanity is mostly living a day to day existence of not always knowing
how they are going to survive
and if it is possible for them to leave
a legacy going forwards that generations
to come will be proud of.

Humanity always has a choice
about which direction they want to go
in terms of technological interdependency,
the destruction of the natural world,
and the way they we take
what we have for granted –
and time will definitely tell
whether the predictions of those who either predict a positive version of the future
or those who predict a negative version of the future will ultimately be judged to be right;
however, what is as clear as a crystal ball
is that whatever happens in the future
to humanity and to the world around us,
every one of us are all the architects
of what has yet to come
and by influencing the people
in a position of power now
to want to give the gift of optimism
for the children of the future –
some who might not even be born yet –
we can be a part of making a potential
utopia by promising to keep
the predictions already made
of a potential world-wide armageddon
or an inevitable dystopia
tales of science fiction
that will never become a reality.

My Poem “Story of a writer’s life”

Whenever you ask a writer
what the hardest thing to do
when writing anything is
they will most likely tell you
that the same thing that is
the hardest thing to do is also
one of the most essential,
one of the most fundamental,
one of the most amazing
and one of the most fulfilling
things that a writer can do:
to finish things, to end things,
to conclude things, to write a definitive
and effective last verse that defines,
underlines, and gives a new insight into
what the meaning of a work
of literature might be,
why its underlying message
might be enlightening,
and also the reason why an author
chose to explore a particular story
or subject matter in the first place.

It is always good to restart a story
the minute after you have just read
a particular book. Why?
Because no matter how much you think
you know about the story
that you have just read
there is always more to be found
within the lines of text,
especially with a god-like insight into
what is going to happen before
the characters do,
because by restarting the story again
you are turning back the clock
and resetting an entire world
of characters whom you know more about
than they know about themselves –
which gives everything
a fresh new perspective.

Stories and storytellers
are to what, and they are to whom,
everybody turns to when they want to be
entertained, enchanted, educated,
and illuminated about something
or someone that has a tale to be told
about the what, the when, the why,
and how so much of life
revolves around and is built upon
stories told by storytellers
who might have spent countless hours
retelling, building, understanding,
and trying to capture
a sometimes indefinable magic
that they once found themselves
inspired by and compelled to grasp
the ball of entangled threads
that combine to create every single
word, of every single line,
of every story, of every writer,
of every creator since
the beginning to time.

My Poem “Hello Friend!”

It’s always great
making new friends…
when we watch certain characters
on television or in films
we often quickly become drawn
to a particular protagonist
that we, for one reason
or another, can identify with.

It’s always good to explore
new things – films, music,
books, places, stories –
and it is always fascinating
to witness how a particular
journey can change a person
in so many different ways.

Whenever we all watch
certain characters in movies,
or on television,
and we see them having to overcome
all obstacles that they have to contend with,
and face all the adversaries
that they have to face,
while walking the path that is their fate,
it can be such a thrilling
and an exhilarating experience
that certain people often choose
to return to those same stories,
and to those same characters,
time and time again.

When we become engrossed
in a particular story,
and when we become invested
in a particular cast of characters,
we never want what we and they
have been through to come to an end;
however, most audience members know
that endings are just as fundamental
to a story as beginnings,
and as long as when a story
comes to a close it is satisfying –
and it is revealed that everything
that happened was all for something –
then, in some way, people can cope
with the ultimate moment
of finality without regret.

When we have to say goodbye to someone –
even if it is only a well-loved character
who we see performing on a flat-screen –
even the most detached of watchers
can become so connected
to whom they have been watching,
especially if the storyline
that is coming to a conclusion
has been a compelling
and riveting one to behold;
and that is why, when
some people reach the end of a story,
they automatically go back
to the very beginning of
the same story that they have been
watching, reading, or perhaps
listening to, for so long,
and they start the journey all over again
in an attempt to recapture the magic somehow,
by greeting the same characters
that they are already greatly familiar with,
with a smile, and with a warm:
“Hello friend!”

My Poem “The Modern Mythology”

Every mythology has stories of heroes and villains…
every tale ever told that has survived through the ages
lives on because they have a moral truth at their heart…
every religion that has attracted followers to its teachings
has fundamental rules that are expected to be adhered to by,
and which are staples in the life of,
any person with faith in what their
religion’s holy texts tell them is essential…
every mythology is filled with individuals
with super-human abilities that allow them
to change the world around them…
every mythology has an origin story
that explains where the world
and everything in it came from…
every mythology has a creator as its figure-head
who is prayed to and worshiped so that they
might bless their believers
with miracles and gifts of good fortune…
every country has their own cultures
who have their own individual mythologies…
every era of history has intertwined with it
modern interpretations of old tales
that fit into the events playing out
all around the world that are documented
in so many modern ways…
even in this day and age,
there are stories being documented –
on T.V., in films, in newspapers, in literature –
in the posts that people share on social media –
of people endowed with power who don’t know
how to wield the influence at their fingertips,
as well as tales of heroism
and rebellion against oppression…
creators create mythologies every day –
in comic books, in novels, in urban legends,
in technology, on television, in art,
in architecture, in structures built
with a specific purpose that are meant
to be draw people to them so that they can admire them –
that slowly enter the lexicon of our society…
our world was built upon, and continues to thrive,
because of the stories that combine together
to make the tapestry of life
that is our modern mythology.

My Poem ‘The Good Reader’

From acorn to tree…
to paper… to writer…
from life to inspiration…
from the pen of a poet…
to the eyes
and the imagination of a reader…
from out of a cloud of chaos…
something new… something personal…
something that like the person
writing it down and the place
from where the paper
it is being written on came from…
something incredible made believable…
something two-dimensional brought to life
so that it may walk the walk of words
and then take a leap from the page
into the mind of the one
who is reading what is being described…
a world imagined and captured
like a bolt of lightning in a bottle…
something that is a testament
to the power of the human mind…
it is amazing what a writer can do
and what pattern of magical words
they can weave…
it is amazing what a writer
can make a person believe…
epic journey’s have begun
and have been taken
by readers following every word
of every sentence of a writer’s story…
adventures of every height, depth,
and distance have been undertaken
by people who yearn to escape reality
and let their mind and their heart run-free…
over the centuries and after all the tales
that have been told there is still nothing
better to read than a story
that is based on true-events…
even to this day there is no better thing
to experience than to be told a story
and to hear a story while sitting around
a campfire at night with a group of friends…
ghost-stories, recollections,
tales of what, where, when, how, and who with…
some stories sometimes are so amazing
and miraculous that it is hard to know
what is imaginary and what is the real-thing…
a story, like a dream, is a world
that everybody steps into, lives,
and then takes something away from…
a story, a book, a world of characters
and people who we find within a tale
that must be told and read
can teach us something that we never knew
and it can also tell us something
about ourselves…
in countless bookstores, libraries,
on countless displays and book-shelves,
there is untold treasure to be found,
infinite sunsets and sunrises to be seen,
as if staring at the horizon from a pier…
sometimes it is just impossible
to put a book or a story down
once you have begun reading it –
and no matter where a book
or a story takes you
there is only one thing that you can do,
and only one thing that you want to do:
follow the words of a writer
and be a good reader.

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My Poem ‘You’re going to need a bigger bookcase’

It all starts when you are a kid:
a book here, a book there…
a book for Christmas?
a book for your birthday?
a book that you borrow
from your local library?
and then, before you know it
you are reading a book a week,
you are day-dreaming
and imagining stories of your own…
and then every afternoon
after you get home from school
you are writing short-stories
inspired by who and what you have read…
and every night you embark
on new adventures of every kind
from the comfort of your bed.

When you first fall in love with stories,
literature, tales, myths, books,
characters and journeys…
when you first fall down the rabbit-hole
with Alice all the way to Wonderland,
or when you first get carried away
by the tornado with Dorothy all the way to Oz,
or perhaps when you first follow
the adventures of Frodo and the Fellowship of the Ring
and you feel with each and every-one of them
and you come to understand what it is like
to carry a heavy burden,
or perhaps when you travel
to a magical-land and you encounter
heroes, lords, witches, and a beautiful girl
who is also a fallen-star
which you find in the Neil Gaiman’s world of Stardust…
there is no telling what will happen to you,
what you will imagine, and where you will go next –
going on a roller-coaster of emotions while reading a book
that you just can’t put down is the best!

Some people simply do not have the time
or the inclination to pick up a book
and let it begin to build bridges
within their mind and imagination
to places that are simply inaccessible
unless you follow the words,
the sentences, the chapters,
the pages, and the characters of a book
from one cover to another…
some people read fast, some people read slow –
however, I have always thought
that the best kind of books
require time and patience to be given to them
so that they can truly reveal their secrets.

Some people are just not ‘book-people’,
and then again their are some people
who truly marvel at everything about books:
the way their printed,
the language that they are written in,
and even the beautiful artwork of the cover…
some people only own one book…
some people own physical books,
some people own ebooks –
I might be biased, but I don’t think anything
could ever compare to the feeling,
the pages, and even the smell
of a real and physical book.

I would advise anyone to start with one book
and to fall in love with it slowly –
because reading should always be
a pleasure and not a race;
however, in no time at all,
that one book may turn into one of many…
and then you may be enviably forced
to consider an apparent and glaring possibility:
you’re going to need a bigger bookcase.

My Poem ‘The Mermaid’

Before writers started looking
above the clouds and imagining
the wonders of creation
that may live on other worlds,
orbiting around other stars…
before philosophers started dwelling
on the burning questions of human existence…
before any child ever dreamed
about setting foot on another planet…
before rockets, before planes,
before trains, before cars…
before there were countries with governments
led by the will of presidents…
the ancient seven seas of Earth
were believed by many to be
where the most amazing and fantastic,
supernatural and magical,
being and life resided –
and there must have been many
a sea-faring captain of a ship
who must have stayed up all night long
dreaming about capturing
a mythical creature from the ocean depths.

Epic and gigantic monsters…
tentacled behemoths…
giant and colossus monstrosities…
the nightmare characters of those who spent days,
months, even years, battling the forces of nature
over vast expanses of the oceans of the world
hoping to come face to face
with the unseen and the undiscovered…
in the days when and where dragons were thought
to live on the literal edge of the Earth…
gods of all names, sizes and colours, were worshiped
and had monuments erected in their honour…
when the possibility of traveling to another country
on the other side of the world
was so incredible to think of
it could only be the stuff of fantasy…
it was in the days before
the world fought itself in war after war
that everybody believed there was more to be found
than anybody had ever seen before.

Even in this day and age,
even in this decade and century,
we are still discovering life on our planet
that for some reason or another
had remained hidden and secret in seclusion
and were only the spoken or written word
of a story told and retold
by people who claimed to have had
a first-hand close-encounter;
every day something extraordinary
has a light shined upon it
and the knowledge of it actually being
a living-thing is so miraculous
it creates shock-waves;
there is no more powerful reminder
of the infinite possibilities of life
than nature – and there are countless times
when that fact has been abundantly clear;
everywhere you look,
every day around the world,
even today in the 21st century,
we are all surrounded by images
and iconography of myths that still live on –
be they leprechauns, dragons, epic crusades,
or a beautiful green and white mermaid.

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My Poem ‘Scream!’

Silence is broken…
the quiet is no more…
sound is made to say
what cannot be spoken…
a child that has not yet learned
how to talk is thinking, feeling,
and wanting something so much
that they are throwing everything
that they can reach to the floor.

Why do we scream?
Where does all that energy,
and where does all that deafening noise come from?
To me, there is something primal in a shriek;
to me, there is nothing like a noise
that seems to come out of nowhere
to attract your attention
and implode your concentration.

There are people who openly seek to be
scared out of their skin;
there are some people whose heart’s
race when they are on a beach
and they see in the distance
the unmistakable shape of a shark’s dorsal-fin;
there are some people who love
to take their senses to their outer-limits;
there are some people
who at the prospect of there being a ghost
in a house they are staying in
would be so petrified
that they would be scared beyond their wits.

Ghost-stories; camp-fire tales;
first-hand experiences recanted in great detail;
scary movies; myths of spectres
dressed in period-clothing
whose faces are so devoid of life they are pale;
to some people, to be shown something dark
and other-worldly horrific
is the greatest and the most visceral of thrills.

When the adrenaline surges through your body…
when your appendages spasm
and you literally jump out of your seat…
when you smile and perhaps even laugh out-loud
out of complete and utter shock and surprise,
brought on by the fear brought to life
by the images that you see…
that is when, even as a full-grown adult,
you can become like a child again
who is unsteady on their feet.

It’s cathartic to face your fears;
it’s good to let out what you are feeling
from time to time;
it’s incredible to see things you have never seen;
it’s amazing how a slight scare
can make your thoughts clear;
it’s phenomenal to see evil be defeated
when it crosses the line;
it’s exhilarating, sometimes,
to find yourself lost in a moment of comfort
and then have all that taken away
when something gives rise
to an almighty scream!

My Poem ‘Infinite Stories’

There is no greater story
than a true story;
there is no greater true story
than the story of someone’s life;
there is no greater way
for an individual story
to touch another person’s heart
than to tell it true
and to see it run free;
there is no greater epic
than a death-defying survival
to stay alive.

We all have stories;
we all love stories;
we have meet each other
because we need to;
we all know someone
who has a story from their life
that is so amazing and incredible
it is almost unbelievable to believe
that it is even true.

Passengers on a plane,
passengers on a train,
strangers on a journey,
strangers on a trip,
who can truly be honest
about who they are,
because the only thing that they share
is the shortest of connections and history –
brief encounters, stories that matter,
short exchanges, instances of new changes;
new chapters, fresh banter;
a rush of endorphin’s;
marks of beauty,
like freckles on person’s skin.

Because life is constantly asking
something new of us all,
new stories are being made all the time;
because people are constantly meeting new people
life stories are constantly inter-twinning;
because the rain will always fall,
and the sun will always shine,
somewhere, everywhere,
the pen, the keys, the fingers of a storyteller
will always be writing.

New stories begin every second;
old stories continue and are shared
time after time, day after day –
as if they are once again brand new;
legends are made for us to find
that allow us to see things
in ways that we can understand;
for every story to be
there must be a me and a you.

For better, or for worse,
all of our true stories
are ours and no one else’s;
fortunately, or not,
all of our memories are ours –
our losses, our tears,
our smiles, our glories;
for the best, all of our living days
will one day be like grains of sand on a beach,
and like the countless stars of the universe,
and that is what makes them truly ours
and truly special;
for all of our collective spoken and recorded time,
everything and everybody will always be the reason,
the source, the microphone and the speaker,
not to mention the writer and the reader,
consequential and important
in sharing the world’s inspiring
infinite stories.