The Life, the Light, and the Tears, of the Poet of the Sphere

My Poem ‘Another’

Poet of the Sphere — Fri, 25 May 2012 19:58:51 +0000

Two starlings dancing in the sunlight,
foraging all around in trees, hedge-rows,
and on the ground, for the sustenance of life,
and also for the first of many pieces
to begin building their new nests-
to passers-by they see them and go about their morning unnoticed;
however, I cannot take my eyes away,
I am hypnotized by this pairing and by what they are doing-
and as the starlings both take-flight one after the other,
as the sun shines directly on my face,
my insight too flies away.

A couple sit on the lip of a fountain-
their hands touching each-others,
their fingers harmonized and entwined with one-another’s-
embracing, showing, and sharing their love with the world;
as they kiss in the way that only they know how to kiss,
as one of the couple slowly puts their hands to the others face,
the other closes their eyes, while dancing their feet in the fountain’s water-
their love for their unity is hard to miss-
they are the most perfect picture I have ever seen,
locked in an intimate and infinite moment of ecstasy,
but they do not look out of place.

Strangers on a train, who see and talk and share
their view of life and the world with each-other everyday,
in the same carriage, on the same route-
who are more honest with themselves, and with their train acquaintance,
than they are with their family, their partner-
who looks forward to conversing every morning and every night
with someone who shares the same love for the same fruit-
paired-together, not just so that they may pass the time
while travelling from paint ‘a’ to point ‘b’;
brought-together, to enrich both of their lives
for as long as their time together shall be.

My Poem ‘Easter Island’

Poet of the Sphere — Mon, 21 May 2012 05:48:49 +0000

At the heart of the Pacific Ocean,
on an island removed and isolated from the outside world
the Moai statues of Easter Island-
standing tall, un-moving, carved in stone,
and even today their significance, their truth,
and their history is still being excavated, and unfurled-
still remain to be seen by all and marveled at
on this sacred ground from where they were sculptured,
that have stood for hundreds of years- each unique from the other-
embody the importance of lineage and ancestry,
and a story that can still be heard.
As they gaze inland
towards the direction to which the clan that first erected them once resided,
the islanders of Isla de Pascua
still today look in the direction of the great stone memorialized deities
that still watch over their island-
and even though they may not see them directly,
they can always picture them in their head.

I have always been fascinated by the moai statues-
how some once stood, were then topped, and were then risen again
to their rightful place;
I could never get enough of reading or hearing about
what they once meant to their people-
a constant reminder of a culture and face
that you cannot easily erase.

Remembering the past and retracing where we have all come from
is very important, and in doing so can teach you about yourself-
learning and discovering something about an ancestor of yours,
who was born somewhere far-away,
whose thoughts, actions, and decisions,
still live-on hereditarily and genetically in each one of us,
is as important to know as our own health.

I one day hope to be able to go somewhere,
find a monument to someone great, and discover-
like the Moai of Easter Island-
that this monument was carved for me to find, to see,
and to reconnect with a broken ancestry
that I can reforge, and call my own;
I hope one day to be able to hear the echoes of the past,
and see the light and the shadow of those who have passed, loud and clear-
and be reminded that although everything changes,
some things are forever set in stone.

My Poem ‘Mad Man’

Poet of the Sphere — Thu, 17 May 2012 19:57:12 +0000

I can still remember the first time that I was stung by a bee,
I can still feel the pain that started at my left arm
that then spread throughout my entire body;
I can still taste the tears that welled up in my eyes,
rolled down my cheeks, and found there way into my mouth;
I can still see what it was that put a smile on my face afterwards,
and what soon returned me to full-health.

It is fair to say that I had a lot of crushes while growing up-
“love” was a word that I heard all the time,
but it wasn’t until I saw a girl that I cared about kissing my best friend
that I felt and I saw what love was close-up.
It was a strange, painful, and an unfamiliar, feeling at the time-
I can still see them both, even after all these years,
in each others embrace, as I stood staring at them
as if they were in that moment something divine.
Unfortunately, after I saw them,
my mind became flooded with feelings of hurt, jealousy, and betrayal-
I thought that I was going to cry,
because my emotions were over-full.
To this day, I still say that the moment I first felt my heart break
hurt more than any bee sting, ever-
it is a pain that changes you from head to toe,
and I would wish it on no one, never.

It wasn’t until years later that I concluded that
that first heart-shattering moment was the tell-tale sign
that I had fallen in love;
it wasn’t until I had fallen over and over, again and again,
into the beautiful ocean of wonder
that were the eyes of someone who I cared the world for
that I understood that being in love was what fitted me like a glove.

I love to love, I love what love does to me,
I love who I am when I am in love,
and I love that the person that I love never stops inspiring me.
I still get intoxicated when a certain person talks to me,
or enters the same room-
it is everything about them: their voice, their face, their smile,
their eyes, that intoxicates me- more than any spirit, or perfume.

People say that love is blind.
They say that love can make you crazy, mad,
that there isn’t a manual for perfection,
and that love never goes to plan-
and I would have to agree;
but love, to me, is the best thing in the world,
and if you have to be mad to feel it,
then call me a mad man.

My Poem ‘Time’

Poet of the Sphere — Wed, 09 May 2012 18:16:53 +0000

Time is so precious.
If you had just one day to do everything that you want to do, anything-
what would you choose?
If I could do anything, I would do exactly what I am doing now:
sit down, listen to the sounds of life rushing by,
look out my window at the endless blue sky,
and converse with the eternal muse.
Moments like this are becoming fewer and farther between for me
in this new season of change;
but now it doesn’t matter-
what happened yesterday, or what will happen tomorrow-
all that matters today is what the world and I choose to exchange.

There was no time at the beginning of the universe,
just as there isn’t now-
it wasn’t until we began to measure the interval between moments
and placed great reverence on the knowledge of when things happened,
and how,
that was when we were all chained forever to the hours, the minutes,
and the seconds of every clock-
that was when we first began to follow time,
as if it were the shepherd to our flock.
If it were not for time, however, would anything ever get done?
I believe that it still would,
but we wouldn’t be as impatient as we are,
and we would still know that it was still daytime
by the appearance and the position of the sun.

Times are so precious.
Things happen in life, and they are over before you know it.
Special moments of infinite meaning for us all fade so quickly
that we cannot bear to admit.
The memories that stay with us, that we dwell on,
remember every hour of every day, that brighten our day-
like sunshine bursting through a cloud-
are everything-
they are the after, they are what whispers to us,
and they are what can be heard by all, and loud.
I have always believed that life is a continuum-
that everything happens all at once,
and that where we are going is exactly the place
from where we have come from-
that when we arrive at the top of the hill,
or at the highest branch of the tree,
we have the knowledge that the only way through is up,
and that remembering as much of what you have learned and felt in your life
is what will allow you to let go, and fly free.

My Poem ‘Cicero’

Poet of the Sphere — Sat, 05 May 2012 16:16:17 +0000

“Speak your mind”,
“Honesty is always the best policy”,
“Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind”
“Confidence is always the cure to jealousy”-
great sentiments, good advice;
but how many people truly believe them,
how many people truly believe what they say?
How many people are honest with themselves, and with others?
How many people truly make the most out of every day?

To be heard, you have to speak out;
to accomplish something, you have to have no doubt;
to be yourself, you need only to act naturally;
to be seen, sometimes you have to become your own gallery.

Everyone has an opinion about every thing,
and most people rebel against any kind of persuasion-
an expert in behaviour would say that people are predictable,
repeating patterns that can be calculated, as if in some kind of an equation;
however, I would argue that when intense emotions are concerned
that can never be the case-
just as in great beauty we can find vulgarity,
and in chaos we can discover immense grace.

Some people internalize their emotions and thoughts-
while others shout them into the air, and paint them on walls.
Some only reveal their true-side
when they are following the exploits of their favourite team,
in their favourite sport-
while others wear their interests on their chests twenty-four hours a day,
with the ferocity of Niagara Falls.
Whether quiet, or outspoken- everybody has a voice;
whether cerebral, or brutish- our defining nature has seasons,
like a planet does; however, our real defining power lies in our gift of choice.

Unlike an animal, Human beings are not driven by instinct alone-
what fulfills us is self-preservation:
keeping alive not just ourselves, but also our peace of mind,
our justifications, and our fixations.
Some people try to hide behind hate to mask their misunderstanding;
some people retreat into cruelty when their frustrations become too demanding.

The best of us speak only when we have something worthwhile to say,
or when our voice is needed most of all;
the greatest of us act for the benefit of everyone-
giving their last breath for another, no matter the cost-
always going beyond the call.

In the long-run, honesty will always ensure loyalty-
at first, if people don’t like or agree with what has been said,
they may not believe you,
but if you hold-true to what you think and say-
they will always trust you.
In the end, when all is said and done,
if you are wrong, and you know that you are wrong,
there is no shame in voicing your disappointment and letting it show-
because it makes it clear to all that what you believed meant something to you-
and there is no harm, after which, in bowing your head low,
in acceptance, and in remembrance of the great philosopher and orator
that was Cicero.

My Poem ‘Friends’

Poet of the Sphere — Tue, 01 May 2012 17:18:59 +0000

When we first start making friends,
when we first start meeting others of the same heart and mind;
when we first discover that we are not alone-
that is when we first discover that we are not the only one,
that we are of a kind.

We share so much with each other these days,
so much so that I would say that it is impossible to be anti-social-
unless you live on a dessert island,
absolutely cut-off from the rest of the world,
you will always find someone else who is tuned to the same mutual channel.

I am blessed to have met friends through the gift of technology
that I would consider the best that this world has to offer,
I am blessed to have met best friends,
after finding and learning from them instantly, or over time,
that we share a fascination with all things that reoccur.

I can name friends that I know, but whom I have never met,
and speak their names along with literary giants, inspired musicians,
and great philosophers, and honestly say that, to me,
they are the most inspirational people on the planet-
because they are who they are:
they love, they feel, they get frustrated, they laugh, they cry-
everything about them is real-
they are whom I look to for the truth, for honesty,
for support built of something that is stronger than steel.

My friends are all amazing,
my friends gift me everyday the honour to be able to link my life,
likes, and loves, with theirs-
in every word that we share I read poetry in every reply,
the significance of which you can’t compare.

There is nothing harder to put into words than feelings-
words can sometimes seem distant, hollow, or dream-like,
you cannot truly capture an emotion and convey it in every detail;
but the words of a friend that you trust, who you know,
who you can imagine what they are thinking when they are saying something,
on the road to serenity, never fail.

My friends are mothers, and fathers, sons, and daughters;
hard-working, talented, dreamers, creators, believers,
and no so accidental philosophers.
All of my friends are the reason that I smile when I am alone, or in a crowd-
all of the friendships that I have made
is what makes me feel the most proud.

My Poem ‘Dream’

Poet of the Sphere — Wed, 25 Apr 2012 09:37:36 +0000

Standing in a dark forest, on a moon-lit evening-
with no idea of how I got here,
and with no concise answer as to what I was feeling-
I looked into the shadows,
and suddenly I saw the face of someone watching me.
The face got larger and larger as they walked towards me,
and then stood two feet away from me,
staring at me with unseen black eyes,
with a face as white as a ghost-
that if not for the moon, you would never believe or see.
“I am Dream,” spoke the man, dressed all in black
and with hair as wild as a thorn bush.
“You have many questions, I would guess;
however, for now, you must hush,”
said “Dream” to me, as he put an ice-cold index finger to my lips.
“Truth sometimes comes when you least expect it,
and moments of understanding happen fewer that the times
you will witness a total-eclipse.”

The man seemed to know me somehow-
it was as if he knew exactly what I was thinking;
as I looked into his eyes I tried to read any emotion that I could
on his face, but he remained nonchalant, still, and unblinking.

I felt like I should be scared,
but, oddly, at no time did I feel uneasy;
my eyes told me, from where I was, that I should be cold,
but my mind and my body didn’t agree.

“Ask me a question,” said Dream, “even though I know the one
that is always on the tip of your tongue.
Ask me the question that you have been asking
for so long to be answered ever since you were young.”

“Who am I?” I whispered, not expecting this man to know what I was asking,
nor why-
the question that I have never been able to answer for myself
without beginning to cry.

“Most that ask that question nearly always already know the answer.
Some stop asking when they believe that they have found a real-world
substitution that they prefer,” replied Dream, as he looked up to the sky,
and then back at me,
and for an instant we two were like two beings of light in darkness
and no longer surrounded by trees.
“The name that you were gifted after your birth was not accidental.
Who you believe you are, and what has befallen you throughout your life
is elemental.”

As I face Dream, I noticed that I too was wearing nothing but black-
but that I was wearing a T-shirt emblazoned in white with a word on my chest:
“What does this word mean?” I asked, pointing to myself- “Is this a test?”

When Dream spoke this time,
I swear that his skin shone whiter that it had before;
as soon as Dream had finished saying that
“This is the word that has forever been knocking on your front-door“-
that was the moment that I felt as if he, Dream, was telling me something
that I had never considered before.

“Is this a dream? I don’t recognize this place?”

“This is a place that is very important to you, I understand-
somewhere you have never visited after dark before,
but which has always made you imagine what it is like to be in outer-space.
This place is infinite, unending- and yet brief, and simple,”
Dream explained, as he looked down, as I did, to see below on the ground
the symbol of a snake devouring its own tail.
“Do you understand?” Dream asked, “Do you recognize the answer?“-
as I looked into Dream’s face, I saw and I felt something that was
incredible, beautiful, and pure:
I imagined a child being born, growing rapidly older-
as if every year of its life were a second-
until the face that I saw looking back at me was myself, completely stunned.

I have always believed that things happen for a reason,
but I never put much credence into the idea that everything in my life
has been guiding me to a truth that some may call a destiny-
that was for stories of heroes, not for me.
“But you are a hero,” Dream proclaimed, to my surprise-
“You do have purpose beyond your dreams and your horizon-
the terminus of all, not just the one.”

“Why have you come to me now? I don’t recall ever dreaming about you before?”

“I have been a part of every dream that there has ever been
since time began, as I will be forevermore.
I was there when you first fell in love and dreamed so intensely,
deeply, powerfully, that you awakened your gift of creativity
and inflamed your waking desire to make someone feel special;
I was there when you first looked within yourself,
found who you were, who you were going to call on the world to know you as-
the name that sounds as perfect and fitting, as it does natural.”

Dream then turned and started to walk away-
to which I soon beckoned: “Dream? Wont you stay?”

And then Dream replied, without looking back over his shoulder:
“I see no need to stay and remind you of that which you know
can only be grasped by they who are the beholder.”

“Thank you!” I called out into the darkness, as the pale-faced
dark-clothed man disappeared so that he could no longer be seen.

“Next time you feel the need to rediscover who you are,”
said Dream, as his voice echoed as if from every direction,
“you need only to close your eyes, return to this place,
and dream.”

Inspired by The Sandman by Neil Gaiman

My Poem ‘Bench-Mark’

Poet of the Sphere — Sat, 21 Apr 2012 19:39:03 +0000

There are not that many people
who have the time, or find the need,
to sit back and realize that they have it all.
Maybe it is just me, maybe I am just spoiled,
but I have had the pleasure, on many occasions,
to be able to take a seat,
to be able to close my eyes and to feel
like I need nothing more.
Perhaps I shouldn’t say this,
perhaps I shouldn’t write this down;
but after all the years of fun, reflection,
elation, realisation, rediscovery-
for the first time in my life,
I believe that I am standing on a solid and lasting
life-affirming foundation.
Maybe I am jinxing it by saying it,
but what I have in my life now is what I have always wanted.
My life is made up of many different pieces of all shapes and sizes-
most are the same as everyone else’s,
only they are woven-together with a different coloured thread.
My life is as it should be:
filled with all the things that test me, complete me,
give reason to me and for me,
and all the things that make me happy.
This feeling of completion is momentary,
this feeling of having it all wont last, nor should it;
but most people don’t have the time
to thank anyone or anything for what they have,
unless they survive a test of character,
or something phenomenal akin to that of a lightning hit.
Today I walked down a road, known locally as “The Mad Mile”,
and it hit me that what I am blessed to know as my life,
as it is now, to my eyes, is the same as it is in the daylight,
as it is in the dark;
with every step that I take down this “mad mile”,
with every thought that came and went-
I realised that all that I am now
will forever be my benchmark.

My Poem ‘Poetry’

Poet of the Sphere — Tue, 17 Apr 2012 15:47:25 +0000

In 50 years from now,
you wont remember me;
but I will always remember you-
I will never be able to forget your dazzling eyes:
the widest, and the most beautiful marvels of existence
that I have ever knew.

In half a century from today,
I will still be telling people
about the second that our eyes first met-
the moment that I became instantly lost in everything about you,
and the part of you that imprinted on me forever-after
that I will never forget.

When I one day reveal the identity
of who it was that I always wanted to be in love with me,
I will say your name, I will describe your face,
and I will try to put into poetry the perfection of your smile-
however, even if I have a picture in-hand,
to describe only a fraction of your face’s divinity
is going to take quite a while.

When I am asked by people who you were, why I love you,
and what makes you eternally special in my eyes,
I will tell them that when I think of you all doubt, and darkness,
is cancelled-out, and all I see is beauty in every form imaginable,
and a presence more overwhelming than a pacific sunrise.

I will tell people a tale of a man looking for a truth, an answer,
a revelation that told him who he was,
and then I will them that that man, Me,
when he saw You felt electrified with love and inspiration
at the sight of you, and that that will go on forever without pause.

Every night I will retire to my bed,
still unable to sleep without dreaming about what we said to one-another,
nor without reliving what you will forever mean to me.
I will look back on myself now, and on my memories of you;
I will pick up a pen and a piece of paper,
and I will continue to write more and more poetry.

My Poem ‘April Flowers’

Poet of the Sphere — Fri, 13 Apr 2012 11:41:51 +0000

The smell of freshly-mowed, dew-speckled, fragrant grass-
the colour of the rolling hillsides of the English countryside,
the colour you would only find elsewhere in Eden-
transports me to a field in Austria,
where the air is clear and open and stretches for miles,
and in the distance the horizon is filled by the imposing sight
of the snow-tipped Untersberg mountain.

The feeling of raindrops falling on my head, running down my face-
the taste of natures tears on my lips,
in my mouth, on my tongue, down my throat-
relocates me to Brazil,
to the base of a thousand year-old tree at the heart of the Amazon Rainforest,
in-awe of all the sounds of life that I am hearing all-around:
the smells, the colours- all resonating singularly and harmoniously
to a single beautiful note.

The sight of a rainbow arching across the sky,
the sight of every colour imaginable reflected in fresh puddles on the ground,
and in the gaze of wide-eyed on-lookers-
takes me over oceans and kilometres
to the town of Bluff on the South Island of New Zealand,
to witness the breath-taking spectacle that is the aurora australis-
silently dancing before me, and leaving me frozen in wonder.

The sound of Bumblebees buzzing in the sunlight,
going from one garden to the next-
evolves in my mind to become
the sound of a hummingbirds wings beating without rest;
and at the same time that I am in my garden in England,
I am also in the hot Sonoran Desert in Mexico-
equally entranced by the sound, so much so that I am lost for hours.
And in the time that I am lost,
I find within me and around me all that is delicate, beautiful, alive,
and to be found all-year-round in natures showers,
and especially in the petals of April Flowers.