My Poem “Mobile Inspiration”

I find that I do some of my best
writing while I am mobile…
I find that I am my most inspired
while I am traveling,
while I am looking out of a window
at somewhere, at something,
that instantly steals my mind away…
I find great inspiration when I am
above the clouds traveling at
the speed of sound looking down at the ground
and wondering who I am looking down upon
and who is looking up towards me…
I find that my thoughts sometimes
go on their own journey to somewhere else entirely
that cannot be reached physically,
and I wonder if this is what heaven feels like –
when our consciousness and our spirit
has become separated from our bodies
and we are able to float freely anywhere
we want like a boat on the surface of a sea…
I find myself experiencing something supernatural,
something comforting, something mesmerizing,
something enlightening, something wonderful,
while I am autonomous, free, travelling, and mobile.

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My Poem “Magpie”

I’ll admit it,
when it comes to writing poetry,
writing stories, making art,
creating light from the dark,
I – like many of my kind –
am a bit of a Magpie…
certain things – people, places,
smells, sounds, tastes, experiences –
that I see, hear, feel, and sense
enter my mind through my eyes,
through my ears, through my nose,
through my mouth, through my fingertips,
and make me slightly different
than I was before…
so many things that I see,
that I hear, that I feel,
shine for me and give me
the same reaction that I am sure
a Magpie experiences when they see
a glistening piece of metal from far away.

Magpies are highly intelligent
and they can live a relatively long life –
and it is because of their observed
and recorded intellectual capabilities,
their extraordinary memory,
and their innate nature, that has led
people over the ages to come to believe
that Magpies can sense and perceive
things before they happen,
as if their existence is connected
to a realm that can only be described
as being supernatural.

So many people think in the same way…
so many artistically minded people
regularly experience moments of inspiration
when they see, hear, or feel something
that opens their eyes wide
and compels them to make a reality
an idea that they cannot shake, nor deny…
so many people see things that other people
may also see, but could never convey…
so many people, like me, who express
what they see, what they hear, what they feel,
what they think, and what they believe,
ultimately choose to use what they have collected
within their mind until a time in the future
when they can let their creative side
fly like the black and white wings of a Magpie.

My Poem “Vicarious”

I love telling stories –
and I love hearing, reading,
and experiencing the stories of others…
when I was young I was a child
who used to be absolutely hypnotized
and captivated by whatever story
I was watching play out in front of me:
in books, on T.V., and at mandatory
family get-togethers…
I have always loved the gift and the ritual
of telling tales and learning something
I never knew before about something,
somewhere, or someone…
I was always that kid in the classroom
who was always staring out into space,
looking out of the window,
and dreaming about an adventure
to be had in a far away place…
however, as I grew older,
the more that I wanted to see of the world…
as I grew more inquisitive about the universe
the more that I wanted to go to all the places
that I had always yearned to see –
and as a child of amazing parents
I was given the opportunity to visit
kingdoms of magic, wonder, and infinite possibility…
but it was when I finally made it to New York City
that I realized I was truly living a dream
that I had had for as long I could remember,
when I saw playing out in front of me
lights, sounds, colours, and a spectrum of life
that was beyond imagination…
and that is why I feel very lucky
and incredibly fortunate to have been
where I have been, and to have seen what I have seen –
because I know that there are so many people
from all around the world
who have always dreamed about going
to where I have been and doing what I have done
but who for one reason or another
may never be able to –
and there are so many people from all around the world
who would give anything to take a leap across an ocean
and live their dreams, but who for the time being
have to settle for seeing, hearing, and experiencing
the world through the eyes, the ears,
and the senses of other people, vicariously.

My Poem “Mr. Write”

I write early in the morning,
I write late at night…
I write when the rain is pouring,
I write when the sun shines bright…
I write what I feel,
I write what I believe,
I write what is real,
I write what I see…
I write from my own perspective,
I write from my own experience,
I write with my own voice, and when
I write that makes all the difference…
I write about my thoughts,
I write about my dreams,
I write about all sorts,
I write about what inspires me…
I write because I must…
I write because I cherish the gifts of life…
I write because to me inspiration is like star-dust…
I write because I would not be me if I did not write.

Happy National Poetry Day!

My Poem “Always be a rebel”

Inspiration is the lightning,
thunder is the art…
writers and creators are constantly playing god,
creating new worlds, creating new people,
and giving reason and meaning to people
looking for an answer at a time
when they are willing to do anything,
to leap into anything, to experience everything,
no matter the cost…
every artist should be a rebel…
every artist should not fear going
where they have never been before…
every artist should take any and every idea
that comes to them and run, shape,
and make something with that idea
that burns within them like a flame…
that first idea is but the start, the spark,
the initial flash of light in the dark,
and it takes the passion of the beating heart
of a true artist to not be afraid
to watch that idea grow and change,
find its own identity and its own voice…
knowing where to begin with anything is never easy –
but the most important thing to do
is to make a start of any kind
that is significant and sets up
what came before, what is to come,
and why you decided to create something in the first place…
rebels are artists, and artists should always be rebels.

My Poem “Some Gifts”

Some gifts we are born with…
some gifts we slowly find
as we look, listen, think, breathe,
and as we feel the song of the world
synchronize with our heart beats…
some gifts come to us in our dreams…
some gifts are such a part of us
that every day is a journey of discovery
to discover what our gifts mean…
some gifts leave us for a short time
before rising to the surface again
to take a breath and to take a look around
so that they can restart their fire of desire
like a phoenix’s flaming tail that never stops burning…
some gifts just need time to go to new places
in order for them to express themselves like never before.

Every gift has the power to renew itself –
as long as there is solid ground beneath them
to take off from and a sky of infinite possibilities
above them to keep the constellations of stars turning…
all gifts are doorways, however some gifts
are able to create things that nobody has ever experienced,
heard, felt, nor seen before.

Some days ideas come like a trickle of interconnected thoughts
and some days some gifts manifest themselves
like a tidal wave of inspiration,
or like a storm that ultimately reaches its climax
when ideas rise and fall
like the raindrops of a downpour.

My Poem “Woodland”

You haven’t lived until you have been
up close to the flora and the fauna of a forest…
You have never breathed true fresh air
until you have walked through a paradise
of green parkland during the summer months…
You have never felt as blessed as me
until you have shared precious moments
with the one you love in peaceful solitude –
watching hummingbirds feed during the daylight,
or witnessing the lightning bugs
illuminate the darkness as they dance
through the air under the stars of night…
The face of nature is breathtaking…
I have seen sights beyond imagining…
As I have lived I have experienced things
that are like a time-capsule
which I can use to slow the passage of time,
to halt the march of the second hand of my life’s clock,
and to return me to the places above, below, and far-away:
among the clouds… underground… sitting on a wooden porch,
walking over a river with the love of my life, Melissa…
There were times when I was younger
when I regularly used to go out on my own
and be in a state of complete and utter awe
as walked amongst the amazing tall trees
of a thriving, lush, and inspiring woodland.