My Poem ‘Psychic Arithmetic’

We all know our own minds,
but other people see more of us
than we do;
we may spend all of our time
with ourselves,
but we do not see
all the things that we do;
we may all know our own
personal likes and dislikes,
but we may not all be familiar
with all of our routines;
we all may look in the mirror,
but it is other people
who see the face that constantly changes.

By acting on instinct
we all can sometimes
take our own actions for granted;
by repeating the same tasks for a while
we can find it hard to imagine
a life that is not already
a picture and a memory in our own head;
cycles and predictive patterns
are important to life on our planet;
everybody has their preferences:
what they like to drink?
what they like to eat?
what they like like to listen to,
and what they like to watch?
Some people just do not “feel right”
if they do not keep on their
preferred side of their own bed.

Some people just know us;
some people can just read us;
some people are just like an open book;
some people can tell the story
of who they are from a single look;
some people constantly analyze;
some people speak as well see with their eyes;
some people love us – no matter how predictable
and bound by our own insecurities,
obsessions and compulsions we are;
some people think that when they see us
we shine like a star;
some people are so incredibly psychic
that their gift can be deceptive;
some people teach us every day
that there is more to learn
about all forms of nature
just by looking, observing,
understanding and deciphering
the signs and mimicking the techniques
used by the best of those schooled
in the performance of psychic arithmetic.

My Poem ‘Interview with an inspirer’

Across a table,
over a mug of tea
or a cup of coffee,
over the years I have sat down,
spoke and communed
with the truly inspirational –
and every ghost of everybody
who has chosen to come
and pass on their wisdom to me
lives on in the words of the verses
within the lines of my poetry.

A long time ago,
William Shakespeare himself,
with quill in hand,
taught me how to write
and how to tap into
the well of inspiration
of my own heart;
only a couple of years ago,
I was sitting in a coffee-shop,
when who do you think it was
who sat across from me?
Why it was the ghost of Vincent van Gogh –
who instilled in me
the importance of every brush-stroke
that we all make, in art and in life,
and to not be afraid to make our marks
that number as many as a sky full of stars;
the white-suited spirit of John Lennon
regularly sits down with his guitar next to me
and inspires me to imagine and to see the world
for how it should be.

Only a few days ago,
I was having a deep and meaningful conversation
with the legendary ‘Starman’ David Bowie;
Amelia Earhart wants me to remind
every man, woman, and child
to never stop overcoming the odds
and reaching for the stars;
Audrey Hepburn has stopped by
to share breakfast with me –
she teaches me every time I see her
that being happy in life is all that matters;
Agatha Christie likes to drink
a cup of hot black-coffee
when sitting down with me
and explaining the importance of a great mystery;
“don’t be afraid to let your mind run wild
when you are writing anything”
was an inspiring piece of advise given to me once
by the author of ‘Frankenstein’, Mary Shelley.

I have been visited many times
by amazing people with epic stories
to tell from and of their lives –
Robin William, RIP, comes by often
to tell me a joke and to give me
the answer to a question
that I did not even know was on my mind;
everybody who sits across from me,
or beside me, talks to me, I believe,
because I listen and because I care deeply,
and perhaps because my imagination
and my heart burns like a fire;
special people never stop having
something to tell you and pass on –
even after death the light of a person’s spirit
lives on, and I am always ready and waiting
if somebody who used to walk the Earth,
but who is now in the after-life,
wants to return to life
through words and through memories
by allowing me to talk and interview
those who will always inspirational
and an eternal inspiring inspirer.

My Poem ‘The Prolific’

Learning how to write
is like learning how to walk –
finding your voice,
and finding your rhythm of speech,
is like when you discover
that you have the gift to be able to talk;
seeing things and allowing them to inspire you
sounds easy when someone says it,
but, for everyone, it takes a while to make a connection
between what you are seeing
and why it is so inspiring –
even for a published one of a kind prolific poet;
the gift to be able to stand upright without falling over
is all about finding your own balance,
and writing is like that too:
the idea, the thought, the growth, the detail,
the quintessential individual identity
that every writer and artist has
all proliferates and shows
in whatever they are creating.

Beethoven played, heard, and made,
entire symphonies in his mind –
he knew sound and music so well,
and he had the most virtuosic command
and knowledge of instruments,
that he didn’t need to hear a thing,
because he was a prodigy;
Shakespeare spent entire morning and nights
in Winters and Summers,
crafting, staging, and writing,
the most epic, incredible, phenomenal,
plays and timeless stories the world has ever seen,
read, or heard, that will continue to inform
the entire world for eons to come –
however, during the days
when he was not as well known as he is today,
in the days in which he lived,
William Shakespeare was not thought of as highly
and spoken of with as much esteem,
as he is now: I, however, believe
that Shakespeare’s first love,
and the thing that made him the most happy,
was his sonnets and everything that he said
and expressed through poetry.

When I first began writing poetry,
I used to perhaps write a poem a week –
and then I only shared what I wrote
with a small group of friends;
as expressing my thoughts,
and writing them down in the form of a poem,
became more and more important to me,
I started to write more and share more regularly;
when I realized that instead of writing something
once a week for someone, I was now writing twice a week,
every other day, and then every day,
I knew that writing, especially my poetry,
was no longer just a past-time for me –
it was a passion, a way of life,
a journey that had no end,
and every time I write a poem now
I cannot ever shake the feeling within me, of me,
that makes me happy, when I am writing my poetry.

There are some words that are sometimes over-used,
however there are only some words that could ever express
what something means to you at a particular moment:
love, amazing, awesome, special, epic;
but when I use a word,
when someone uses a words to describe me,
I can tell you that the reason I am using a particular word
is indescribably heartfelt and true –
because words mean a lot to me,
and I use them with great care and attention,
as a poet or a writer should;
and as an artist who knows their art
like the back of the hand,
and who thinks of themselves,
and who people often describe them as being,
in my opinion, is one of the best things
anyone could ever be, or be called:
someone who is wonderfully ‘prolific’.