My Poem ‘Where did you come from? I wasn’t expecting you?’

Within the blink of an eye,
within the flash of a burst of sunlight,
within an instant of time,
within a single simple impression
that touches you
when you see something
or someone at first-sight…
have you ever considered
what that moment is made up of
and where it comes from?
Have you ever thought about
what all the world
and all life is built upon?

There is always a before,
and there is always an after…
there is always energy,
and there is always matter…
there are always things
that you can’t understand
until you go through them…
there are always realities
that you can’t imagine
until you see them…
the most undeniable thing about life
is that you can never know everything
about it, about everyone who makes it,
about the depths and the secrets
of the universe beyond the sky
and our galaxy’s periphery outer-limit –
because every sphere has its own world…
every place has its own laws of nature…
every planet, every region of space,
has its own history, creation, story,
leaps in evolution, and future.

There is a reason for everything…
there is a reason we are all here…
there is a reason why nothing
can suddenly turn into something…
there is a reason for hope…
there is a reason for fear…
there is a reason for why
there are things that we need to know,
and there is a reason and a meaning
behind what makes us smile
and what brings us to tears.

Some things in life we hope for,
we plan for, we expect,
and we need to happen
to give our life the drive
and the spark to fill the world
with all that we were born to give…
sometimes when you are not expecting
to find paradise or perfection
you can stumble upon an oasis
or someone who to you is the most beautiful…
some things are so precious and meaningful,
and in every way they must be held
close to your heart as a gift…
sometimes life can become so simple,
especially when you look up
and you see something new
and you say to yourself loud and clear:
where did you come from?
I wasn’t expecting you?

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My Poem ‘The Meaning’

As with most things
it all begins in our eyes
and with what and whom
we see with our eyes…
as with most things
we all come to things,
places, people,
from different directions
and at different times…
as with most things
there are always things
that we regret…
as with most things
a part of something
always remains within
the heart and the soul of something
even after the outer-layers
have withered away and died.

Humanity is fragile…
every day of a person’s life
they are in a constant state of change;
humanity by nature is fallible…
every day of their life
a person can do things
that when looked upon in retrospect
they would see them as a collage of mistakes;
everybody is prone to repetition
and we value our routines;
we are all so caught up in our own lives sometimes
that we are mostly oblivious
to the changing of the times
and the rhythms of life.

A life is full of meaning,
even if you can’t see it:
music, children, love, sport, art,
work can give a person’s life what they need…
no two people live the same life in the same way…
no one and nothing ever stops changing…
what matters the most in life
is what you find in the moments of silence
when there is no sound, music, or talking –
there and then is where you find
what lies within your heart
and what you cannot live without
because of the way that it fills
your life with such meaning.

My Poem ‘Sights to see in Birmingham City’

Even from far-away
you can see the towers of the city on the horizon;
as you get closer to the centre of the city
the buildings both old and new glisten;
when you catch a glimpse of the spires
of Saint Martin’s church,
and of the shining disks that cover
the imposing Selfridges store,
you cannot help but be taken-aback by what you see;
when you climb the steps that lead
to the entrance to the Bullring,
that is but the start of a path
to things that always attract my attention
and capture my fascination
every time I see them
as I walk around the city.

I love walking up New Street,
from the famous bronze Birmingham bull
to the statue of Queen Victoria
that stands tall atop their plinth
at Victoria Square –
there are always musicians and street-performers
playing and performing hoping to draw people to them
so that they can bedazzle with the talent;
I love going into my favourite restaurants and stores –
in particular Starbucks, Waterstones,
and also my favourite bookstore ‘Foyles’
which to me is the jewel in the crown
of the newly-refurbished New Street Station –
and simply looking, perusing,
people-watching, and listening;
one of my favourite places to go in all the city
is the amazing and inspiring
Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery –
the exhibitions and the art to be found within
to me is always a treat to behold…
and another place I love to revisit is of course
the phenomenal new Birmingham library –
somewhere I have spent many an hour
enjoying every moment of walking through
the near-infinite number of books on their shelves,
and also sitting outside almost on the library’s roof
looking far and wide and also below
at the beautiful city beneath me.

I love walking the towpaths
of the canal-side near The Mailbox;
I love walking from one end of Broad Street
to the other and marveling
at the number of restaurants and bars
that can be seen as you follow the stars
and in the footsteps of the famous and the renowned;
I love how no matter if it is a sunny day or a rainy day
that I cannot deny that this city
constantly speaks to me and to my sensibilities;
I love those times when I can walk around,
or just sit down on a bench near St. Philips Cathedral
that stands at the heart of the city,
and allow my thoughts to runaway in my mind;
I love the many cultures, accents, colours,
and sounds that echo wherever you find yourself in town;
I love every time that I get to see the sights
that always inspire me in Birmingham City.

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My Poem ‘The Stranger Things’

The stranger things are,
the stranger things matter;
the stranger things are what shine
far away in the dark,
and they are as beautiful and mysterious
as the planets and the stars;
the stranger things become
the more that we think about them,
and the more that we become invested
in the strange things of the world
the more our heart beats faster.

Everybody is “normal” in their own way,
and yet equally as strange;
everybody is a character in someone-else’s story,
and a figure in someone-else’s painted landscape;
everybody can be “at home”
at the same time that they are “away”;
everybody can be beyond who they see
when they look at their own reflection in a mirror
and wear within their mind a vastly-different face.

To me, the stranger things are
the more interesting they are;
to me, the longer something stays unexplained
the more intrigued and the more drawn to it I am;
to me, the stranger things in life –
the mysterious, the one-of-a-kind, the extraordinary –
are constantly leaving their mark for me to find,
like a calling-card;
to me, the stranger things –
the unknown, the questions, the fables,
the stories of aliens, fairies, and monsters –
are so inspiring and amazing,
the more I hear, the more I see, the more I imagine.

What can seem strange to one person
can seem “every-day” to another;
what can seem fantastic to a child,
or to someone who is young-at-heart,
can seem to someone with a closed-mind
like something that could only be found
between the pages of a book-cover;
what I have learned in my life,
as a story-teller and a story-reader,
is that anything and every-thing
can be a fountain and a treasure-trove
of thoughts and energy –
and that life, if nothing else,
is never boring and can be always interesting;
living and breathing in a world deeply
brings with it oracles of gifts,
and they can be found in the strangest of places
filled with the strangest of things.

My Poem ‘The Bright Side’

There is no such thing
as total-darkness;
there will always be
those who have more
and those who have less;
in a dark-blue sky
there is nothing like
the pure white light
of the moon’s crescent
to fill you with awe
and relieve you of any stress.

When the sun rises after a long night,
when the moon appears like a ghost in the sky,
when dawn calls, when dusk falls,
when ocean-waters become a mirror,
when candle wicks burn
and their flames flicker,
when eyes open, when eyes close,
when the world of the day has awoken,
when the aroma of the air
is as distinctive as the smell
after a thunderstorm
or as unmistakable
as the pungency of burnt-toast.

With the first observance of fire
followed a basic understanding
of the human heart,
and what lies and burns
at the core of every living thing;
when humanity first saw lightning,
it must have automatically
occurred to our ancestors
that it must be the energy
and the work of the gods
who dwelled in the sky above;
when the first language of expressions
and signs was first devised
and replicated over and over again,
it must have been phenomenally exciting;
when the first heart ached for another,
that was when humanity first discovered
one of the greatest forces in the universe –
the power of love.

Most people, and most things,
do not get a choice about how and when
their story will come to an end –
every sunset, every sunrise,
could be someone’s last;
over time truly is how and when
you find out who are your true family and friends –
and every day that comes and goes,
and who it is that you see
when you look around yourself,
is when and how you find out
who is your eternal star and sunshine –
and they who will always be the one
to show you life’s
ever-present bright side.

My Poem ‘Where we’re going’

Imagine if McCartney had never met Lennon;
imagine if Neil Armstrong
had never set foot on the Moon;
imagine if The Beatles
had never left their home city of Liverpool;
imagine if the things that have happened
had not happened –
where would any of us be right now?
Imagine if no one fell in love;
imagine if we knew everything;
imagine if we were unable to feel
the heat and the light of the sun on our skin;
imagine if we could learn all the secrets
and the truths of the universe from a single book.

Imagine if music were not also magic;
imagine if anything that we wished for
or dreamed about came true;
imagine if you had everything
you could ever need or want
and you knew that you did not ever again
need to worry or panic;
imagine if your life were the same
as a slow-burning fuse.

We have no control of where things begin;
we can only navigate the best that we can
through life by using the knowledge
and the instincts that we have at our disposal;
we can both lose and at the same time win;
we can make our world
and the world of someone else wonderful.

We can share our love;
we can share our gifts;
we can share the same light of the same sun;
we can share our life and be happy to share all
with whom that we crave to share with;
we can help; we can carry;
we can hold and be held;
we can marry;
we can run’ we can walk,;
we can remember the place
where we have come from,
but the place where we are meant to be
is already, and always has been,
the place where we are all going.

My Poem ‘The Ghost Orchid’

There are some things
that can and will
only happen once in your life;
there are some things
that come to life for a short time,
and then die just so you could see them;
there are some things
that can only be seen in the moonlight;
there are some things
that are a true, rare,
wonderful, and magical phenomenon.

There are some people
who make life worth living;
there are some people
whose presence keeps you breathing;
there are some people
who you wonder:
‘where have you been all this time?’;
there are some people
who were there all along,
and who when they are standing
right in front of you
appear as if they have stepped
right out of your mind.

There are some things
that disappear and may never be seen again;
there are some things
that reappear from out of nowhere,
like a ghost train;
there are some things
that are just waiting for the right time
to show their face again in the light,
after spending almost a life-time in the dark;
there are some things
that are secretly really other things,
but are so enigmatic and unpredictable
they could easily be mistook,
until their identity again looms large.

Secrets become known every day;
hidden music is found and played
that was once thought lost forever and forgotten;
memories return to the surface of consciousness
in infinitely different ways;
messages continue to echo,
and colours are always recurring, year after year
in the leaves of autumn
and in the flower-buds of blossom.

There are some things
that I haven’t seen since I was a kid;
there are some people
who can’t be seen, but who are always there,
and their touch can be felt like the wind;
there are some things that go,
but do return to shine and remind the world
of their ‘specialness’ in all the ways they always did;
there are some people who are like wildflowers,
who vanish, but who one day come back
and are seen again after so long –
like the mysterious phantom flower,
‘The Ghost Orchid’.