My Poem ‘Walking the line’

Literally, figuratively,
physically, emotionally,
I have been walking a line
or two my entire life…
just like Johnny Cash,
near the infamous Nickajack cave
in Tennessee,
I walked the tracks of a railroad-line –
and I can honestly say
that on the beautiful morning in February,
while I was walking alongside the Tennessee river
with the love of my life
and my adoptive family,
I too had what could be called
a “spiritual experience”:
the sky was blue,
the light was golden,
and I felt more alive than I had ever felt –
I was renewed, and I did not even for a second
think to look back over my shoulder,
because all that mattered
were the moments of perfection
that I was living out in nature
and under the life-giving and incredible sun.

Walking any kind of a line
is always when and where
something life-changing begins;
walking down a road that you don’t know
is how you can discover
and learn to embrace something unknown
and completely different;
walking, and not rushing,
is how to savor the beautiful
and the miraculous things about life
that speedsters sometimes miss
because they travel at the speed of lightning;
walking has always been a passion of mine –
and I swear that you haven’t lived
until you have stopped and heard
the breathtaking sound
of the Earth when it sings.

Every day people walk the line of life and death;
every day people walk the line of light and dark;
every day people walk right and left;
every day people walk to live,
and to live they have to walk far;
every day people walk
even though every step may feel like mile;
every day people walk through all weathers;
every day people walk through fire
and must overcome a torrent of trials;
every day people walk and repent
so that one day they can be
welcomed through the gates of heaven.

No matter what demons lie in your past,
you have got to keep walking
even though there may be times
when you don’t feel fine;
no matter what baggage you carry
that you think you can’t let go of,
sometimes you have got to learn
to let go of what you don’t need anymore,
and don’t look too longingly
at the light of the past
because before too long it may make you blind;
you haven’t lived in this life
if you haven’t at some point or another
been asked to pick a side;
there is no one alive
who hasn’t had to walk away from something
so that they to walk towards something –
no matter what, no matter the time,
everybody in their life
has got to walk the line.

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My Poem ‘Morning in America’

Morning light; morning silence;
morning life; morning peace;
morning in Tennessee and Georgia,
there is a calmness, a stillness,
a chance to breath in
the new day’s fresh air;
morning in my favourite states of America
is like waking up in a dream-world
that hypnotizes you
with its beauty with every second that you stare.

Star-spangled banners gently flutter and wave;
raindrops fall from the branches of trees
and from the roofs of porches
from the remnants of the storm
of the night before,
people go out in their cars
and carry out their daily routines;
every morning I look out of a window
and I see a red cardinal pass my way;
when I step outside for the first time
every morning I look around
and I am completely in-awe:
I see so much perfection,
and I feel so happy and so content
that it takes me a while to realize
that what and whom I see
is not in fact the stuff of dreams.

Birds sing; wind-chimes ring;
flowers open; morning has truly broken;
the sky is white, bright, blue, and pretty;
I feel so lucky to be here
with an intoxicating warmth of energy
surrounding me.

To me, this place is sacred
as much as it is blessed;
to me, the America that I know
and the America that I see
is like a country of heaven on Earth;
to me, I cannot wait to open my eyes
as the sun rises,
just after I put on my clothes and get dressed,
and reach out and hold the hand
of the most beautiful angel of Earth
who I have been destined to be with
since the day of my birth.

I love all that greets me
and all who speak to me
as my senses awaken;
I love driving to places
with my soulmate in our car;
I love how I feel like
every morning I have been saved
as well as taken;
I love every day when I wake up
and it is morning in America.

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My Poem ‘Snow-where to run’

I am not sure if it is just me,
but I’m sure that it used to be,
that more than often than not
it used to snow only at Christmas time?
I’m not sure if it is just my memory
playing tricks on me,
but I’m sure that it used to be the case
that every Christmas when I was a kid
was a white Christmas –
however, now it is as if
the seasons have shifted slightly
and the weather of December
has now moved to the months
of January and February.
As I look around the world,
and I see the photos taken
by people of where they live,
snow appears to have fallen
and countless cities around the world
are now covered in a thick blanket of white.

New York City at the moment
is a winter-wonderland;
Washington, D.C., will soon be waking up
to what fell from the sky the night before;
people who usually wake up every morning
and go out for a run around Central Park
are putting on their winter coats
and knitted hats and scarfs
and instead they are planning to go for a walk;
the Potomac River has a layer of ice over it
so thick that it may take days for it to completely thaw.

From Rossville to Nashville, Tennessee,
a world of white is all that you can see –
perfect conditions for anyone
who likes throwing snowballs,
or perhaps going down to the local store
on a pair of ski’s
all the way up 7th Avenue in New York City;
from Times Square to West 59th St.,
adults and children are walking down roads
frozen in time in every sense of the word –
cars and taxi-cabs still stand
in the same place they stood the day before.

Here in England,
we have been lucky up until now –
three years ago, at this exact time of the year,
I remember walking down lanes
in the countryside of my home
and thinking that the only thing
capable of getting from A to B
with any kind of speed
would have to be a snow-plow;
when snow falls here in the United Kingdom
the entire country almost comes to a stand-still –
the kids love it when it snows though,
because their schools close for the day
and they can run around the streets and have fun.

There are some cities
and some countries around the world
that have a temperature of -20 degrees Celsius,
and where a day without seeing a single snowflake
would be to someone who lived there
just as miraculous as walking
across the surface of the sun;
for most people when it snows
it gives them a reason to stay indoors
and turn the heating up,
catch up with family and friends,
and share their pictures and memories with the world,
and it gives them an opportunity
to look out there window
at the snow that they see
and remind themselves that
where they are is where they are meant to be
and no matter where they look
they have nowhere else to run.

My Poem ‘GA 30741’

Upon first awakening, all is dark
while the air is still warm;
when drifting off to sleep
during the summer-time
is when the lightning bugs glow
in the twilight as they swarm;
when the sun is shining
and the blue sky comes alive,
when you can sit back and take your ease
somewhere peaceful and special,
you feel the most lucky to be where you are,
having the time of your life.

When you see something everyday,
when you live somewhere all your life,
you can easily take something
or somewhere for granted,
when you are happy and content,
the minutes and the hours
can seem to fly away –
however, just as moments come
and they go like a flash of light,
when we all learn to harness
the energy and the feeling of our surroundings
it is then that we can make moments
and memories last forever,
and just like our genetic memory
be forever imprinted.

I have Georgia on my mind;
I have Tennessee in my heart;
I have a pocket of dollars and dimes;
I have the light of an American angel
shining on me like a star;
I have the accents and the voices
that I know so well
echoing through my consciousness
like a choir singing in a church;
I have the distant sight of Lookout Mountain
still fascinating me from afar.

I have walked over old battlefields,
and paid my respects to the lost
at memorials erected to remember the fallen –
those who gave their lives
to preserve the right of everyone
to enjoy the gift of true freedom.

The United States of America
is one country made up of fifty
wonderfully diverse states;
the heart of every American
beats proud and strong;
the United States of America
is a symbol of hope and prosperity
in so many ways;
every state of America
is a piece of an epic
and breathtaking unfinished puzzle –
and, to me, the states of Georgia and Tennessee
symbolize what makes
the United States of America truly great,
and there isn’t a minute that goes by
when I do not think of my home in 30741.

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My Poem ‘Tennessee Me’

The smells and the taste
of my favourite place;
the look and the touch
of my favourite
and the most beautiful face;
the feeling of warmth in the air
when I am there;
the instinct of holding
my angel’s hand,
as I run my fingers
through her beautiful hair…

Take me back there;
let the engines of a jet
transport me as fast as they can;
take me, please,
I wont put up any kind of a struggle –
in fact, I would gladly volunteer.
To be there always
with the one I love
is my life-long plan.

I miss walking over the state-line with ease;
I miss the feeling of being able to just be,
while constantly surrounded and embraced by love,
and what it feels like when two people
become one when they kiss
and wrap their arms around each-other in a hug;
I remember walking over the Tennessee River,
on the Walking Bridge, on a beautiful sunny day;
I remember getting down on one knee
and promising to want to spend
the rest of my life with the love of my life
in any and every way.

Since I have been back in England,
since I sat down again at my desk,
since I again slept in my old bed,
I must admit to feeling
like an adopted American
who has returned to his birthplace on a visit;
it is weird being here now,
especially when more than anything
I want to be back there;
it is like I have been
abducted and transported
to a far-away world-
and even though everything feels familiar,
I feel like I have to be
a different me than I want to be
while I am here.

Until you cross the line,
until you cross the river,
until you go somewhere
and you have the most amazing
and life-changing time,
only then can you see, feel,
and fill your entire life
with the gift of love
that the one you are meant to be with
has to give and has to offer;
until you follow your heart,
until you find the you you are meant to be,
until you know what it feels like
to be held by the one
who always makes you feel safe in their embrace
while you are sitting
and lying with one-another in the dark,
only then will you come close
to understanding what it feels like
to be the lucky in love with Melissa
Tennessee Me.

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My Poem ‘This is heaven’

I am leaving heaven now,
time has gone by so fast,
I am heading home
to the place where I was born,
but soon enough I will be back
at home in Tennessee
where I belong.

One week in heaven;
one week happier
than I have ever been;
one week, seven days
that have been the best ever;
one week in which every day
was so amazing, special,
incredible, and beautiful,
every second and every thing
could have a part of a dream.

The things that I felt,
the things that I saw,
the things that were so wonderful
that they made me want to melt;
the things that will always be
a part of me which I will always adore.

I finally met the woman of my dreams-
my angel, my soulmate, the love of my life;
I got to travel to places
that I will think of fondly
and crave to return to whenever I can
at every opportunity, every day,
until the day I die;
I found something that I had been missing;
I was given a vision of the future,
and what I saw was breath-taking.

Every moment in heaven –
every touch, every kiss,
every wake-up before the sunrise,
every laying down to rest
after the sun had set –
was and will always be
unlike anything that has ever happened to me;
while I was in heaven
I didn’t want to miss a thing,
and because I was so happy where I was
with whom I was with
I did not even feel the need
to write a single line of poetry.

When I first arrived in Tennessee,
which will forever be heaven to me,
one of the first faces I saw
was the face of the most beautiful
in the entire world…
and as I leave now,
as I journey back
across the ocean of deep-blue,
I feel brand new,
I feel lucky,
I feel like ‘heaven’ is the only way
to describe the place where I have been,
if I could use only a single word.

This place is my home away from home;
this place is somewhere
that I will always be bound to,
and with it and its people
I will always share a connection;
this place is one of the most
phenomenal places I have ever known;
this place, Tennessee, to me
will always be heaven.

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My Poem ‘Song of the Mockingbird’

Far away from Tennessee,
as my ears anticipate
and my eyes look forward,
my heart and my thoughts
are thousands of miles away
across the sea –
and even though I cannot say for sure,
I swear that I hear a song calling to me,
and even though I have yet to see one
outside of the still of a picture,
I believe with all my heart
that the song that I hear
is the true call of a Mockingbird.

In my dreams,
fireflies and lightning bugs
dance and fly through the air
around my love and I;
I dream that I am standing in the dark
outside in the Georgia heat,
locked in a tight embrace
and in awe with the one
to whom I am bound
as we fall under the spell of each other,
and with the beauty of nature;
my dreams, I believe, are also shared dreams
that serve as a doorway to bridge
two thresholds, at any time –
morning, noon, and night;
I believe, and I know,
that you, yourself,
with someone else
can not only tell the future,
but you can make and you can grow
a future that will last forever.

I wish I could take flight right now
and fly across the ocean;
as I write this,
my eyes are drawn to the west;
I wish I could write a poem or a song
to sing so that everybody
could not only read, but also feel,
all of my emotions;
as I gaze out and I see
what lies beyond the horizon,
I feel true love,
and I know that I am blessed.

There are some songs
that are easy to learn
and sing for all to hear, word-for-word;
there are some voices
that are so distinctive
it would take all the gifts of a vocal mimic
in order to make them seem
as if their call were one spoken
by someone of a native tongue
or a particular language who is fluent;
there are some feelings and some spirits
that can freely and easily
fly through the air
over borders, expanses, and fences;
there are some people
who are so beautiful and amazing
in every way that their plumage
and their meaning is one that is known
the world around for being
as one of a kind and as special
as the song of the Mockingbird.