My Poem ‘Scorching’

Days like this are filled with energy…
days like this when it is hot and sunny…
days like this are what inspire me…
days like this when I am free to be,
without four walls constantly surrounding me,
are precious and they go by so fast
that sometimes I can mistake my memories
of such days as dreams…
days like this are special…
days like this are perfect and beautiful…
days like this feel wonderful…
days like this are when you want so badly
to be with the one you love…
the sunshine is so divine…
the summer air is intoxicating…
seeing everybody basking
in the bright light feels gratifying.

Poetry presents itself in infinite ways:
through colour, through art,
through temptations to the senses,
through songs, through signs…
when you know and when you have felt
the power of the sun and its energy
running through your veins,
the inspiration and the expression
that you can conjure afterwards
is worth all the dark and cloudy days
through which you have been living and waiting…
no matter if you are walking
the avenues of New York City,
or sitting on a porch
in Georgia with your soulmate –
as long as the sun is high in the sky
and the breeze is cool
the unmistakable flood of natural energy
that is all around you
can be all that you need
to fuel all that you do,
all that you think,
and all that you feel.

Our world turns silently and perfectly
in a universe surrounded by life,
light, and wonders that are so infinite in number
that they both tell their own story
and also become a part of the story
of the world who looks upon them…
days like today are like enjoying every mouthful
of your favourite meal…
days like today drive the paint-brush of an artist
and they can inspire the words
that a writer writes with their pen…
the promise of a day as beautiful as today is exciting…
days like today can get you hooked on a feeling
and on a wave of believing…
days like today are worth keeping…
days like today can be described perfectly
with a single word: “scorching”.

My Poem ‘The Chosen One’

You are The Chosen One…
you are here for a reason…
you are capable of more
than you could ever imagine…
you are where you are…
you are doing what you are doing…
you are shining like a distant
star in the dark…
you are silent,
yet your voice is echoing…
you are instrumental…
you are elemental…
you are indomitable…
you are integral…
you are saying something…
you are expressing the intangible…
you are hearing something:
music, rain-drops, a concert,
a down-pour, a stream of consciousness,
nature, beats, a distant rumble in the clouds,
poetry, to be embraced, to be held,
to be grasped, to be assimilated –
because it all matters,
because it all makes sense,
because it all entrances…
think about it all:
who you are, who you choose to surround yourself with,
what has led you here and what has carried you this far…
for me, it is my heart that has brought me here;
this time was chosen for me
to shine my ray of light as the rain falls;
for me, moments are precious and timeless,
unregrettable and unforgettable;
my parents would have moved heaven and Earth for me
if they could while I was growing up, and even now…
choices are so important…
time should not be wasted
by wrapped yourself up with a chain of what if’s?…
an idea is magical…
realizing a mental-picture is potent…
seeing something that nobody else can see
is blessed and celestial…
if a flood looks like it is on the way,
if you think that you can’t weather it,
save what you can anywhere and any way that you can,
and try to swim through whatever comes rushing towards you,
and if all else fails build yourself a life-raft
out of anything that you can find,
and never lose the one thing that will save your life
if you let it… never lose hope…
because The Chosen One’s do not often
get a say as to when and why
they are thrust into the lime-light;
heroes become heroes because they save lives
and they give themselves freely to another
at their time of need;
the divine conductor sets the stage,
writes the melody, keeps the orchestra in-time and on-pace,
and gives gravity to everything,
and they are present every second of life –
when we die our destiny has been fulfilled,
however our impression on the sandy beach of life
still remains long after we pass-over
to what lies beyond the horizon;
anybody who touches, anybody who teaches,
anybody who takes a hold of their life
and who wants to love and share life’s
infinite riches of experience,
inspiration, and light from their perspective
does so because they must –
because they were given a choice
and asked a question, the answer to which
was in their heart their entire life –
because right from day one,
they were, as you are,
the chosen one.

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 ‘Petrichor’

The air is cool;
the thunder and the lightning of last night
have taken away and abated
the feeling of fire that had been burning my skin;
the stormy weather of last night
apparently put on quite a show –
however, right at this moment,
the bright morning light
is streaming through the window;
and like every day that I venture out
into the world, I am hearing things
that I have never heard before,
and I am seeing things and people
that I have never before seen.

I slept like a still sea last night;
I never once woke up
nor was I awoken by any sound of rumbling
or by any flash of light;
when I opened my eyes from my dream,
I looked and I saw the sight
of a beautiful vision before me:
an intense light, brighter than lightning,
enlightened everything and made my world shine,
and the sound that I heard
that sounded like thunder
was my heart beating in my chest;
and as the new day began,
I knew that I could no longer linger or rest –
because what I felt next, to me,
has always been the best.

Making connections;
connecting the dots;
painting a picture of impressions;
seeing the gold within the rock;
understanding the true nature of life and the world;
finding and breathing in the clear and fresh morning air,
and inhaling that extraordinary and unmistakable smell;
feeling happy and sure;
stretching and reaching out
like a newborn chick that has only just
broken free of its shell.

People feel intensely and deeply;
everybody has instincts;
people want to feel secure, as well as free;
everybody can imagine anything
and everything in a single blink;
it has always amazed me
how much our surroundings talk to us
and what they say about us;
it has always fascinated and inspired me
how much life there is above ground,
as well on the ocean floor;
it has always excited me
every time that I have considered and thought
that I and everybody were once cosmic dust,
and that what makes me and us,
who I am and who we are,
also makes the stars what they are –
and, to me, that is enough to make
anyone’s blood rush;
it has always brought alive in me the light in things,
every time that I have taken in
the wonderful planet that I live on,
after a hot day and a stormy night,
and inhaled the air
and became instantly intoxicated
by the smell of petrichor.