My Poem “The Burning Bulb”

This is what I remember...
this is how it used to be...
this is what I and many others
like me have been unable
to do for almost a year...
this is how I have spent
so many mornings as a writer, as a poet,
and as an observer of human nature:
sitting in my favourite café,
as the bells of a nearby clock ring out,
and feel like I am where and when
I need to be to take out my notebook
and write some new poetry.

It hasn't been the same experience,
it hasn't been the same magic -
even though I have not stopped
writing, nor creating new things,
over the last twelve months
I, like everybody, has had to adapt to living
in a world divided in so many ways...
even though I have not been
lacking in ideas, inspiration, drive,
nor passion to let my poetic side express itself -
now that I am back, sitting inside
and enjoying the ambience and the atmosphere
around me that I know so well,
which for years has fuelled my creativity,
I honestly feel as if I am able to spread
the wings of my intrinsically
poetic and artistic spirit.

I have learned over the years
to embrace every moment,
because things can very easily
be put on pause, beyond our control,
or can even be brought to an abrupt end -
which is why I often dwell upon memories
of where I have been, of what I have seen
and of what I have felt throughout my life...
I am someone who has always looked
to the distant horizon and to the future -
but when anybody goes through
a period of being within something,
or away from someone who matters to them,
everybody undoubtedly feels
this need to somehow go back,
to recapture and to relive all that to them
for so long has always felt like
a constant burning bulb of energizing
inspiration, light, and hope.

My Poem “The Code of Poetry”

It has always been hard for me to describe
just how much poetry means to me -
because it is hard to put into words
the power and the magic that I feel
whenever the title or the idea
for a new poem comes to me.

It's breathtaking! It's amazing!
It's exciting! It's revitalizing!
I have been writing poetry for so long
now that the ability to do so
almost feels like a sixth sense
that I can't turn on or off -
in fact, sometimes I almost feel like a conductor
who can always find a way to reach out
and attract an abundance of poetic lightning.

I have experienced moments of
exhilaration and levitation while writing poetry
that I can only compare to instances
similar to how people describe
what it feels like to have been touched
by the divine hand of an Angel or a God -
and every time that I do feel inspired
to write something I have never written before
the only way that I know
how to describe the experience is
to say that it feels like I have been given
a message that was for my eyes only,
because I alone was the only one
who could decipher this hidden,
but ever present, code of poetry.

Happy Birthday, William Shakespeare! ✒📝📖📚

 ‘All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts.’ - William Shakespeare

(As You Like It, Act 2, Scene 7)

My New Book “VEGA – The Vampire King” is Out Now!

Hi, everyone!

I am thrilled to be able to tell you that my new book “VEGA -The Vampire King” is now available to own as both an ebook for Kindle and in paperback from Amazon! I hope everybody enjoys reading and discovering who the enigmatic Vega “The Vampire King” really is, where he came from, and what happened to him after and as a result of meeting Olivia Hunter.

Happy reading! 🙂🥳🎊🎉📚📖🧛🧛‍♀️🧛‍♂️

-Mark

My Poem “I love books”

I love that books are still being written…
I love that books are still being read…
I love that books are still being listen to
while people are driving,
while people are walking,
while people are sitting in a chair,
or while people are lying down in bed…
I love that books are still physical objects
that people from all ages can hold,
feel, and marvel at the art of
as they flick through their pages…
I love that books are still filled with stories
of characters that do not always have
an accurate description of how they
talk or how they look,
so undividual readers have the gift
of being able to imagine what characters
sound like when talk as well as
paint their own picture in their mind
of how certain characters appear…
one of the things that I love
about the act of reading, as well as
the art of coming up with a brand new story,
is the power that people have
to be able to generate figments
of their own imagination that are
reconstitutions of the familiar,
the recognisable, the known,
the big, the small, the significant,
and the things from our memories
that mesmerise us,
as well as so much more –
but, to me, it is the magic of words
that lies at the heart of why
I will always love books.

My Poem “Exposed to The Elements”

Even when it is cold and wet
I like to get out of bed,
I like to get dressed,
and I like take a walk in the elements –
because just as when the weather
is fine and dry I enjoy nothing more
than being exposed to whatever
emanates unabated from the sky,
whether that is raindrops or golden sunshine…
my secret to not feeling cold,
as the wind around me whistles and howls,
is to keep going and to not stop
until I see, until I hear,
and until I feel as if
I have experienced moments
and instances that have imprinted
upon me and have left me inspired.

I live every day under the curse
of the imagination of a dreamer…
I live every day with the gift
of the eternal poet within my soul…
I live every day seeing the silver lining
around so many clouds filled
with lightning and thunder…
I live every day believing that
if we all stay upon the road
that is our sometimes up and down life
we will all one day arrive somewhere,
with something, or with someone,
that we will always want to have
and to hold and never let go of.

It can’t always be sunny…
life can’t always make sense…
the people whom we meet in life
can’t always be as sweet honey…
life can’t always be about pounds
and pence, or dollars and cents –
because what life is really all about
can only be found when you set out
and when you choose to be exposed
to the world and all of its elements.

My Poem “Start Early”

Some of the most profound
and prolific artists started
creating art early…
some of the most revered
and remembered artists
all began their artistic journey
by being a day-dreamer…
some of the most insightful
and incredible artists
started every new day with
questions about the universe
and their place within it…
some of the most powerful
and poetic artists begin
with a blank canvas
and with an impulse to
to describe something with
descriptive and definitive words
if they are a writer,
or with colour and texture
like that of the brush-strokes of a painter…
some of the most amazing
and astonishing artists
start out doing what they love
to do simply for fun…
some of the most inspiring
artists were inspired and
can inspire others simply…
some of the artists who
have the most unique of voices
speak with their art as
if they were standing within
a forest of trees basking
in the afternoon light of the sun…
some people discover their
secret identity as an artist later in life,
and some people hear the call
of creativity when they are still a child
and forever afterwards as a adult
whatever path they proceed upon
they always start early.

My Poem “The Ten Bells”

There is a repeating
and a constantly resounding phenomenon...
there is a moment of time
that recurs every few years...
there is a place where poet and inspiration
can be found, where things only feel
right and never wrong...
there is a moment like right now
when bells ring out, when angels sing -
when not even the devil
could illicit any kind of fear -
when and where the beauty
of the poetry of life reveals once again
that there is a reason for everything...
there is a season that returns -
like the waves of an ocean
that goes out and then comes back in...
there is a state of mind, body,
and spirit that never dies,
which resides within each of us
like a deep and unending well...
there is something that happens
which never changes,
that always rises back to the surface
to greet me, over and over,
like a poetic rhyme,
that has the power to compel me -
and it is at those moments
when I know without being told
that the bells of time
are ringing ten.