My Poem “Commuters”

Commuters – all in their own worlds…
Commuters – all sitting in silence,
some not even uttering a single word…
Commuters – some transfixed and hypnotized
by the glowing screens of the mobile computers…
Commuters – fellow passengers on a journey,
all with their own destinations,
things to do, people to meet, and plans…
Commuters – some making the most of the free Wi-Fi…
Commuters – some listening to the radio,
some listening to their own music,
some watching an episode of their favourite T.V. show,
some getting lost in the story-line of a movie…
Commuters – some reading a book, some writing into a notebook,
some just looking out of the window
at all of the things that they pass…
Commuters – some talking on the phone,
some drinking a hot drink out of takeaway cup,
some thinking about how life is short
and how fast the years pass us all by…
Commuters – some sharing, some socializing,
some watching, some listening, some observing,
some interacting, some starting a new day,
some finishing a long night, some tired,
some inspired, some happy, some sad,
some optimistic, some reflective…
commuters all share something in common…
commuters are mostly all strangers to one-another –
and yet they find themselves sitting
with one-another for a reason…
commuters often repeat the same journey regularly,
and they get to recognize familiar faces
who they see often from those
who they just see once and never again…
some people like having the freedom
to go wherever they want in their own bubble of isolation –
however, there are those who enjoy the ritual
of leaving their home and joining
the other travelers who daily have to
make their way to somewhere they need to go
by sharing a communal experience with fellow commuters.

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My Poem ‘Nomad’

You may see me passing by…
you may see me sitting at a table,
looking out of a window…
you may see me writing away
into a notebook with a smile on my face…
you may see me stop what I am doing,
look up, and make a sigh…
you may see me and mistakenly think
that I am alone…
you may see me, you may think you know me –
however, while you are looking at me,
I am somewhere else:
I could be imagining that I am a gunslinger
in the old-west of America,
or an astronaut on a star-ship
travelling and on my way
to exploring the wonders
that I imagine there is to be found
in the outer-reaches of deep-space.

I love to wander…
I love to go somewhere I have never been…
I love to explore…
I love to see things I have never seen…
you can’t beat family,
familiarity, and being home –
but, there is so much to be found
when you venture into the unknown.

By now, traveling is in my blood…
having lived a life since I was born
of unbounded-freedom,
it is natural for me to want to leap
into whatever sky I see when I look above…
every road you travel down
as a traveler is different –
some are smooth, some can be rough…
imagining the infinite possibilities of existence
has always been an exciting past-time of mine
that I will always love.

Some might say I am brave…
some might say I am crazy…
some might say I am mad –
however, I don’t think I am brave,
and I don’t think I am crazy…
but, if I was asked to describe myself in words,
I guess I would have to describe myself
as an always inspired nomadic writer.

My Poem ‘Welcome Back’

It’s been a long time
since I thought like a poet,
or wrote a rhyme…
I didn’t know if
I would be able to do it again,
when I opened my notebook
and I picked up my pen.

I have been enjoying life
living every day surrounded by love,
but now I am traveling
into the morning light
and flying like a dove…
an island on the other side
of the Atlantic Ocean is calling:
I am going back home
to where the temperature is low
and snowflakes are falling.

I don’t want to leave where my journey began –
I am happy to see my family again,
but I am truly sad to be leaving
the love of my life and my second family…
I can still see the last face I saw
before I left America behind for a while,
I can still see in my mind
the house that has been my home
for two weeks, or more,
that has the family name
hanging over it of “Dial”.

Once in a life-time memories made,
but now I am flying on a plane
to the land of Shakespeare,
red TELEPHONE boxes,
green-fields, and The Beatles…
in 10 hours, I will be back home in England –
however, already I feel a sensation
of ‘butterflies’, and pins-and-needles.

My mind is always in the rear-view mirror,
I am always reliving in my mind
moments that other people
might think too small
and too brief to be remembered…
when I left the U.S. tears fell down my cheeks –
whenever I have to make a difficult leap
it is always hard for me to know
what to say and how to speak –
however, though time has gone by too fast,
I know that this time will not be my last,
being where I think about every hour of the day,
with those whom cannot wait to see me again
and wish me a heart-felt ‘Welcome back!’

My Poem ‘Winging It’

Leaving home…
leaving your comfort-zone…
looking up to the sky…
extending your wings, preparing to fly…
only one place, only one destination in mind…
soon to pass in front of the moon
and rocket as fast as you can
to the land of the free,
and for a while leave your home behind.

You travel light, you travel alone…
you travel morning to night,
and night to morning…
you travel, because you have heard a calling…
you travel, and as you do
you live a dream.

Certain days in our life are like landmarks
that we anchor ourselves to…
certain days – like birthdays, Christmas,
New Years Day – keep us grounded and reminded
of the important things in life…
certain days in our life
remind us of days gone by –
even though they are completely brand new…
certain days continue to shine all our lives
with the beauty and the intensity of heaven’s light.

Like in Peter Pan, it is your happiest of thoughts
that elevates you and allows you to rise above…
like your soulmate’s smile,
it is their breathtaking beauty
and the feelings that they stimulate in you
that makes your heart glow like a star in your chest
which is the epitome of all that you love…
until you have felt the freedom
of being unbounded by gravity
only then can you know what it is like
to be an astronaut floating in space…
for some people, flying is something
that they get to do every-day –
and, personally, I can think of nothing more amazing
than being intertwined with the palpable energy
of the indescribable that never ceases
to put a smile on every face.

I think that there should be more
astronauts who are poets…
I think that there should be more
travelers who rely on their instincts…
I think that there should be more
gateways to new frontiers, rather than fences…
I think that there should be more
people who would do whatever it takes
to helps others to see and understand
what it means to be truly alive…
I think that making plans is a great thing to do –
however, in my opinion, in my experience,
sometimes you just have to let things happen
naturally and grow out of the moment –
in other words: sometimes in life
it is best to not worry about what you don’t know,
and take a leap into the unknown,
and until you know what you are doing
just do what I do regularly:
get busy at winging it!

My Poem ‘Mr. Traveler’

Being above the clouds
is like being a part
of something magical;
seeing the blue above
and the light below,
to me will never stop being
a dream come true;
being bound for somewhere
on the other side of an ocean
is something truly wonderful;
seeing the world from up high
to me is breathtaking –
and when I look out into the distance,
and when I look down to the Earth,
a shape, a face, a thought,
a memory comes to me out of the thin air,
and I feel blessed by the touch of the divine,
and I feel drawn to the destination
I will arrive at soon.

We all travel and we all leave a slip-stream;
those who travel by plane know
that the fastest way to travel
is by catching a ride on a jet-stream;
we all know that thrill that we feel
when we go to somewhere we have never been;
those who have chosen to journey
to the other of a rainbow know
that if you choose to take a leap into the unknown
you may see things that no one but you
will ever get the chance to see.

Astronauts rocket to space every day…
passengers travel to countries every hour…
those blessed with vivid imaginations
dive and fly to and through new worlds of creation
every minute in a infinite number of ways…
every second when every heart of ever human being beats
it is like the constant opening and closing
of the petals of the universe’s most beautiful flower.

I have been flying since I was a child;
I have been to magical lands,
and I have always come afterwards
with an further understanding of the allure
of the call of the wild;
since I was a kid I have been dreaming
about being a space-traveler;
I do not travel far that often –
however, whenever I get the chance to defy gravity
by any means I always jump to it
and I always embrace what it means
and I never take for granted how lucky I am
to be a Traveler.

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My Poem ‘Head-phones to the soul’

On a long journey somewhere,
or while simply sitting on your bed…
on a road-trip to another country
or to another state…
while looking at and listening live
to a band on a stage…
or while listening alone
as you walk through nature…
music is the beginning, the end,
and the giant leap to an amazing new adventure.

Portals to new worlds can be psychological,
emotional, visual, and audible…
some doors only require
your undivided-attention to open them…
some worlds can be both big and small…
just as to see some things clearly
you need to look at them through the right lens,
to hear something life-changing
you need the right means of translation
in order to listen.

Music means more to people than even they may know;
music is capable of stimulating transformation
in people in more ways than can ever be conceived;
music was born at the beginning of everything,
and each and every one of us
has been dancing and listening
to that universal soundtrack all our lives,
and as long as life continues to exist
we will be living in the resonance
of that timeless cosmic echo;
music, like any kind of magic,
needs to be witnessed and heard to be believed.

Music is universal,
but it is also personal;
singers sing,
but they also need to hear;
music has been changing and influencing lives
in ways that almost supersede
the natural and the biological;
when musicians play their voice can be heard
by those light-years away, as well as near.

A song can be like a seed
that explodes to life in your mind
and blossoms like a tree in spring;
a song can be of a time,
or timeless and forever
and never get old;
a song can be simply a way
for somebody to tell the one they love ‘I love you’,
and the one who made it
may never truly know how much happiness
to other people it will never stop bringing;
a song can be a life-line and a life-saver,
and when heard at a particular time
a song or a piece of music
can override all of your senses,
as if the instruments
that you are listening to them with
are head-phones to a divine soul.

Head-phones to the soul

My Poem ‘Mark The Pirate’

Life can sometimes feel to you
like you are on a wooden ship
sailing across the seven seas;
when the wind is at your back
and the waves beneath the hull of your boat
are crashing around you,
as you are rocked from side to side,
you can feel like you are living
the life of a pirate –
looking for a new bounty of treasure
so that you may rest easy
and to not have to worry
about anything or anybody
but your shipmates and crew.

I can imagine it all now:
me, looking to the bright blue horizon –
making my eyes shine a brighter blue
than they normally do;
the sensation of the wind and the ocean spray
whipping through my hair;
the black and white skull and crossbones
of the Jolly Roger flag being displayed
proudly over my head,
the sound of “arrr matey” and “arrr me hearties”
coming from my crew (naturally I am the ship’s captain),
with bottles and barrels of rum being drunk,
if and when possible –
and a parrot called ‘Mo’ perched on my right shoulder,
for good measure and for good luck.

What a life it would be
to live the life of a man with a plan,
with a map, with a direction and a compass
to follow and to guide our way to untold riches;
what fun I would have if I were a pirate
living in the world of the 17th or 18th century –
when the world was still thought to have an end,
and a treasure chest full of gold
was the pinnacle of all wishes.

To see the world;
to discover the wonders of the unknown;
to constantly see the sails of my fine vessel unfurled;
to call the ocean seas my infinite and perfect home;
to fight when I need to fight;
to write a Captain’s log of all of ours adventures;
to experience a life like no other during the day,
and to sing, dance, and be merry all through the night;
to live the dream;
to feel the constant rush of excitement
invigorate me and never stop the speed
of the drum-beat of my heart;
to be able to know how fast my ship was traveling
just from feeling the vibrations of the wooden
boards and beams beneath my booted feet;
to be able to cry out, laugh, joke,
and maybe even through in one or two
“yo-ho-ho’s” for good measure too…
it would be so amazing, even for a day,
to be and to live the life of a pirate.