My Poem “The Old Mark”

There is a man looking at me
before my eyes…
there is a man looking at me
who I do not recognize…
there is a man looking at me
who has my memories…
there is a man looking back at me
as I look at them who has been
growing within me for years…
there is a man who has lived
every day with me, and I realize
now that we are eye to eye who they are…
there is a man who is as close
as can be to me
who used to be nothing more
than a shadowy figure on the horizon…
there is a man who looks like a man,
but who also seems so alien to me
that for all I know
he could have come from Mars…
there is a man who was once young
and unscarred by life, by people, and by himself,
but who is who I see now in X-ray
and for all his faults…
I see myself as I once was, and as I am now –
one and the same, a man of light and a man of dark…
I see the young dreamer,
and the old Mark.

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My Poem ‘Finding Serenity’

I once followed the light of a Firefly,
and when I watched it
until its last second of life
something happened, something amazing…
the light of the Firefly went out,
but then the Firefly was reborn into Serenity –
and now it will live forever in my heart,
and in the hearts of many…
all those who were caught in the Firefly’s wake…
as it flew, as it soared,
as it became something close to people’s heart.

Firefly meant something special,
and it always will…
Firefly was like nothing else
that anybody had ever seen –
because it was unique,
because it was not afraid to be itself,
because it gave us all a vision of something magical:
a world that was shiny and beautiful
filled with different people, from all walks of life,
all working together, who all believe
in the power of the impossible,
and that believing in one-another
is what makes them mighty.

The Firefly continues to fly,
and now it is a star in the night-sky…
Serenity is always there to be found
right where you left it –
like a book on a shelf;
it is so sad to see someone’s spirit
leave this world –
I know that life is precious
and that we are only here for a short time,
but it is the thought that you
will never see the like of certain people again
that hurts the most;
everybody looks for something,
for someone, for some reason,
and what we all seek is out there
waiting for us to find it…
sometimes it can be something
as subtle as a song, an experience, a feeling,
or a verse of poetry…
if you keep going, if you keep looking,
and if you don’t stop believing
that you are going to find
what you are looking for –
then, maybe, you can be like me,
and you can be lucky enough
to have found Serenity.

In memory of Ron Glass

My Poem ‘Ice Dreams’

Ice-skating in New York City;
building snowmen in London;
waiting to hear
if the groundhog saw his shadow
in Punxsutawney, Pensylvannia;
sitting in your living room with your children
while watching the movie ‘Frozen’;
collecting fire-wood;
going for long walks;
sitting in a cafe with a coffee and a good book;
meeting up with friends
and enjoying the company of someone
who you haven’t seen in a while
and having a good catch-up and talk;
wrapping up well in thick clothing;
wrapping gifts to be given to friends and family;
listening to seasonally-themed songs
playing on the radio that you can’t resist
the temptation to sing-along with;
the tradition of decorating a room and a tree
that when completely adorned
has the wonderful gift
of making all that look upon it
incredibly happy.

Everybody has a vision and a memory
of what Winter is all about;
to some people the cold temperatures
of winter are what they dislike the most
and they would gladly, if they could,
do without;
to me, it wouldn’t be Christmas especially
if it were not cold, cloudy,
and at any moment it did not feel
like it were about to snow at any moment –
I don’t think I could get used to
having a Christmas, in say Australia,
where it is as hot as the turkey
that is being served up on the dinner table
outside in the sun,
where as you are eating
you can smell the aroma
of food being cooked
on a nearby barbecue.

There are some people
who have never seen
a single real-life flake of snow
fall before their eyes;
their are some people
who have seen more winter days
to last a life-time;
their are some people
who could just out of their window
at a flurry of snow without ever getting bored,
while happily enjoying mulled-wine and mince-pies;
their are some people who know and love
that it is winter by the intoxicating smell of pine.

There is something about winter
that brings out different things in different people;
there is something amazing and beautiful
about how the light of the sun
shines on a winter day
and the way that it can make everything gleam;
there is something fairy-tale-like, and almost magical,
about a snow-covered world;
there is something about everything
that stirs the imagination
that calls back to memories of childhood experiences –
and though to some the thought of cold
and of snow might be their version of a nightmare,
everybody can remember every time
that they had a waking-
or a night-time envisioning
of a very memorable,
and a most-likely cold,
ice dream.

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 ‘Venti’

My heart is big;
my imagination is vast;
my inner voice regularly
becomes audible when I write or sing;
my vision is a constant bridge
to the future and the past;
my cup is always full;
my love is for the most beautiful;
my reason for being
does not have one meaning;
my life has been blessed
by the truly amazing;
I feel deeper than the deepest well;
every poem that I write
I like to think of as both
a seed and a fully-fledged tree;
when I see things that inspire me
I just cannot wait to capture,
show, and share all through my poetry –
because every thought that I have
is always the same size
as my favourite cup of coffee…

My Poem ‘No Filter’

A beautiful, gorgeous, sunny, warm morning –
with blue sky above, multiple reflections all around,
people coming and going, living, breathing,
seeing, experiencing, and music playing everywhere you are,
and a different voice for every hour that you hear.

I am sitting with a wonderful cup of coffee,
at a table next to a wall of windows
that stretch as far as the eye can see;
I am looking out at the city,
basking in the daylight of sunlight,
feeling energized and inspired
by the atmosphere of outside and inside;
I am seeing, listening, drinking,
thinking, dreaming, feeling,
and doing my favourite thing: writing poetry.

I am in plain sight, and it is as if no one can see me,
or is interested in me, or what I am doing –
nobody would ever think to approach me,
and ask me what I am writing;
however, if someone were to ask me what I am doing,
or how I was feeling, I would tell them that
the only way that I can describe how I am feeling
at this exact moment, is to say that:
I feel as if I am a bird in the sky,
hovering above the rest of the world,
not even needing to flap my wings too much
in any way at any time –
because I know that there are times
when instead of exerting yourself
with a lot of flapping about,
sometimes you can get to where you need to be
by simply using the external forces that surround you,
and using them, if you have the means,
to simply and silently glide.

As I look at the world,
the natural daylight instantly highlights the colours,
the details, the resonant aura of everything,
and the reason for things to be the way
that they click into place;
as I see the spectrum of existence and life jump out at me,
I have the biggest smile on my face;
as I look to the horizon,
and then to what I see right in front of me,
the scale and the impact that hits me
of certain things, that for some reason interest me,
instantly inspire me, and I see patterns repeating,
and shapes that have meaning;
I see and read emotions, attitudes, interests, tastes,
on the faces and in the actions of everybody,
and I am intrigued and fascinated;
and I also see things that I would change, if I could –
if I could just blink, or snap my fingers,
and change someone’s direction,
or show them another choice to make,
or an alternative to something I can see they are about to do –
however, I am merely an observer, a poet,
someone who can only say what he sees,
and express how something makes him feel,
and, though sometimes I wish I were,
I am far from omnipotent,
and that is a good thing.

Life is what it is;
the world is many things,
and is in many states of being, all at once;
some things that happen can feel like a magic trick;
everyone can believe anything they want.
Whether in the bloom of spring;
whether in the cold but beautiful light and air of winter;
whether you are doing something you have done before,
or whether you are being blessed
with the sight of something you cannot ever remember
at any time before seeing;
whether you are sitting, standing, lying, waiting,
and you have a chance, a moment, to look around
and take in life and the world,
do so if you can with perfect vision
and with no need for a filter.

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My Poem ‘Aubergine’

Who can predict what a new day will be about
when they wake up in the morning;
who can tell what the moments of a life
may some day come to mean;
who can truly know why songwriters write the songs that they do,
and infuse such emotion and intensity in the words that they sing;
who can understand the ‘codeword’
shared between a small group of people,
if they don’t know what it means,
especially if you are unaware of the history
and the shared etymology that radiates from a word or a phrase –
especially when the codeword in question
happens to be “aubergine”.

It’s fun to share exclusive relationships with people;
it’s amazing to have secret ciphers in your mind
that you can use to decode an encrypted message at a moments notice;
it’s great to have the vision to see the seemingly invisible,
as if you have got a magic eye;
it’s inspiring talking and meeting someone when all things feel equal;
it’s a sacred moment when you see
the beautiful pink and white petals of a lotus;
it’s wonderful making a new tie.

People speak, even when their lips are tight and their voice is silent.
Sometimes a picture says it all.
Words and memories mean more to some people than others,
because to a lot of people things are said but they are not meant.
Nothing can hold back a flood – of water, of emotion –
and over time levels of things rise and fall;
however, there comes a point when things overflow
and nothing on Earth can hold back anything again,
not even the best built wall.

If you believe that there is nothing to do,
if you think that you have seen it all,
if you just keep repeating what you have heard,
you need to find a way to take off the shades that you are wearing
that are blurring and distorting your vision of your surroundings,
and look somewhere and go somewhere where you have been countless times –
however, if you look without any expectation,
and if you try to clear your mind of your collected emotional shadows,
you may see something that you have never seen.

Even a grain of sand has its own story;
every dream that everyone has is a truth-based alternate-reality fantasy;
even a meal could not come into being
if where the ingredients of it originated hadn’t at some point
once been a seed, or someone’s idea of a dream;
everything is the favourite of someone;
everybody everyday ventures out onto the sea of life,
like a surfer holding, relying, using, keeping afloat, and swimming,
farther and farther out on the water
towards the direction of the approaching and oncoming waves;
and as they see something about to hit them at full-speed
everyone says something to themselves,
or to anyone who may be listening,
and it could be anything:
my word of the day, that will help and assist me
in riding the waves that face me today,
is a word that you don’t see or hear everyday –
my word of the day is the tasty-sounding, nutritious,
and deeply meaningful muse, that has the codeword “aubergine”.