My Poem ‘The Rogue One’

They walk alone…
they walk a line…
it has never interested them
to be one of a crowd…
it has never been a dream of theirs
to be like everybody else…
they don’t need much in their life,
except their family and their loves-ones…
they don’t think like everyone else
around them – they never have, they never will –
because they are not supposed to…
like most people, they are content
doing what they love to do
in the place where they always feel
the most comfortable and content…
they don’t need to be constantly moving on
to the thing that is the most new…
they learn from the events of the past…
they have hope for the future –
but, more than anything,
they try to live and breath,
to embrace and to be inspired
by everything and every moment
that is their present…
most of the time they swim alone
through the ocean of life,
like a Great White…
everyday they are like a ghost-writer
writing a silent story…
every time they see people
wearing clothes and walking around
to the same beat, and just swimming along
with other people who all look exactly alike,
they sometimes feel like they are surrounded
by an army of clones…
when they see people taking advantage
of other people, they feel like
they want to explode…
they, like many others, have never believed
in the idea of an undefeatable-enemy…
the force of life teaches us all
that sometimes things change –
and when they do, after which,
nothing will ever be the same…
life is like a song, a story, a play,
a movie, a poem – it has a beginning,
it has a middle, it has an end…
however, unlike a story
with a deliberate structure of acts,
life and plans can change
their form by the second…
life is a cycle –
and it begins and it ends at the same place,
and in that way we are all characters
and pieces on the board
of the most epic of all board-games…
they are a patient person…
they have seen what happens to those
who do not listen to their instincts
before they leap into something
without even a thought –
but, they know that
there are times when you have to
let your heart be your guide,
and you need to close your eyes,
and take a running-jump…
because life is about finding balance –
most of the time it is not about
being the best at something,
or being the one with the loudest voice,
or the biggest gun –
to them, we are all a part of this world
to be our parents’ daughter or son…
to be uniquely ourselves…
to be one of the “rogue ones”.

My Poem ‘Celestial’

We all wonder
when we look up to the sky
what the veil of black or blue
obscures from view –
whether it is in fact above
that we all go to when we die,
and why it is that a burst of light
and energy from the sun
can have the effect that it does
of making us all feel brand new.

If music is the heart-beat
of everything in the universe,
then poetry in the genetic code
that binds all life together;
if light is the way
that the true beauty of the universe
comes to life,
then love is the dream come true
that we all want to live in a state of forever;
if memory is the way that we can all
travel through time,
then the future is a present
that we haven’t yet unwrapped;
if life is about sharing everything
and is about understanding one-another,
then we can all learn again
to live in harmony with every-thing and everybody –
just as all life once did when the things we did,
the things we said, and the things we built
were made to last.

Every sense, every sensation,
every lens, every emotion
of every miracle of creation,
is more detailed and deeper,
and is yet to be fully revealed
and realized by the celestial secrets’ keeper –
however, even though I believe
that humanity is not yet ready
to know all that there is to know,
I believe that there is life out there
who realized and who discovered
the reason for all things to be
as they are and what they are
not long after the universe was born –
before humanity,
or the sun in the sky, for that matter,
were even the twinkle of a star
in any constellation of light in the dark.

Travelers and explorers of space,
singers and players of an opus,
emissaries and examples of an entire race –
each and every one of us
is meant to be different from one-another;
both drivers and passengers of our own destiny,
each and every individual with a consciousness
and a face that has ever expressed
a feeling from within
that there was more to be found
beyond the four walls of their day-to-day world;
everyone who has ever believed
that they have seen, met, and have been touched
by the divine whom they might think of as an angel,
knows more than they might realize –
and no matter where they come from,
and around what star they start out orbiting…
everyone is a child of life,
and just like a light of heaven,
timeless, unique, and celestial.

My Poem ‘Soul of the Summer’

Summer is the season of the sun;
summer is the time when everything can shine;
summer is sometimes different
in different places around the world,
it depends where you are from;
summer is when all life can flourish
and share its colours far and wide;
summer brings about new experiences,
new music, new inspirations,
re-invigoration of soul and spirit,
and it is when anyone and everyone
can get out and enjoy the beauty of the world
and see the face of nature close-up,
and if and when you can
to have a good time.

The sunlight of a summer morning,
the heat of the summer air,
the vibe of a summer spent walking,
talking, recalling, and memory making;
the incomparable and intense summer glare;
the constant mood medicine on the summer breeze
that keeps you smiling;
the summer sensation that you feel
when your skin changes colour;
the summer days spent rocking
from side to side in a hammock
that feels like you are lying calmly on a cloud
as you spend hours just relaxing.

Every summer is unique;
you can capture important moments
in photographs, memories, impressions –
but you can’t every capture everything;
every summer has its valleys and its peaks;
you can often recall a particular summer
by recalling the songs that were constantly playing
on the radio that everybody was singing;
every summer is revealing,
and it is a time to say and to do
absolutely anything.

Sneakers, sandals, tennis shoes, flip-flops;
shorts, skirts, t-shirts, low-cut tops;
shades, sunglasses, baseball caps;
sun-screen, jackets, thirst-quenching drinks on-tap.

The message of the summer in which you find yourself
is always to allow things to be see, and to feel free;
the golden season is when you can seek out and enjoy
all that the world has to offer;
the meaning of every season
is to make the most of the gift of life’s beauty;
hope is meant to rush through the bloodstream of everybody,
and finding hope in something that makes you happy
is what it means to have found the soul of the summer.

My Poem ‘Sensitive Skin’

I feel every raindrop;
I feel in awe after every burst and touch of the sun;
I feel so much strength of spirit and drive of life,
I could never give up;
I feel like my story and who I am
is written all over my skin.

I have always been sensitive to the thoughts,
the feelings, and the emotions, of those around me,
and those who are connected to me;
I would be there for my true friends until the very end,
even if doing so were to push me to life’s edge;
I live and feel every experience deeply,
as if they were my last,
and I often immortalize my memories in as much depth
as possible in a poem, or three;
I will keep going until I no longer can –
and that is my eternal pledge.

My skin is fair, and when the sun is as hot as can be
I burn to the colour of a lobster;
you would think that after everything I have seen
and been through, my skin would have become thicker
and as hard-wearing and as smooth as leather;
my skin still has impressions made on it
from when I was a child –
that have not worn away, and never will be worn away;
I still have the impressions of kisses,
and scars from times gone by,
that remind me of things and people,
every single day.

Every mark made on me is indelible,
and if seen under ultraviolet light
my skin would be like a piece of parchment,
or a creased manuscript,
that has been screwed up, thrown away,
rewritten, amended, over and over again,
that no matter what is done to it
can still be read and understood;
it is comforting for me to always remember
and see where I have come from,
and who was influential in making me Me.
Empathy, sensitivity, caring, creativity,
and an extraordinary memory,
is something that is in my blood;
the wear and the why of something,
and how something appears years after
it first originally came to be,
tells its own wonderful story.

Our skin is a map of where we have been;
our skin is touched and sculpted by our environment:
by nature, by the wind, by the rain, by the sun,
by the moon, just as the grand and great canyons,
valleys, mountains, of Earth, have been;
our skin is like the front cover
and the back cover of a living book,
in which an amazing, phenomenal, unique,
and individual story of a person’s life lies within;
there is no greater question than that of a person’s skin,
especially if you are like me, and you have sensitive skin.