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

My Poem ‘Space Walk’

Poet of the Sphere — Tue, 21 Feb 2012 09:34:59 +0000

I rise above the sky,
looking down at you from space-
removing myself from paradise
was the only way that I could think of,
and this hostile and inhospitable void
seemed like the perfect place-
to see you so close, and now so far away;
to see the tears falling from your eyes,
and now to see you motionless, isolated, and astray.

Reality is much more complicated than fantasy-
fantasy rarely strays from a single thought;
while reality veers, and turns, and reshapes, and returns,
what has been wrought.
Sometimes that can be fun and refreshing,
but most of the time, when actuality catches up with practicality,
it is often confusing, crushing, and heart-breaking.
There are some things in life that can never live up to you expectations
or your wildest imaginations,
there are things that may seem dull and mundane in the rain;
however, I have always thought of expectations as a guide,
but not a blueprint of your heart,
and that clouds and storms are momentary creations
that can’t be sustained.

From space, Earth is a breath-taking, blue, crystal ball,
beacon of wonder, and of indescribable beauty;
but below the clouds,
disputes and resentments are being played-out,
and crimes are being committed
that should ask of us all to question each others morality.

Divide, be different, and distinguish yourself from others,
is an instinctual genetic message left to us in our DNA
from our learned ancient cousins-
but does that mean that one day we will all be so remote from each other
that we no longer want to embrace the differences between us,
or even want to talk?
I still have hope for us all, and for our planet;
but I guess you start to question everything you have ever known
when you go for a space-walk.

My Poem ‘Galaxy’

Poet of the Sphere — Tue, 14 Feb 2012 07:17:26 +0000

I was drawn to you
before you and I had even met;
I could not believe my senses
when I first saw your infinite beauty,
and to your shimmering galaxy,
ever since I have felt like a lone planet.

The more that I know about you,
the more that I love you;
the deeper that I delve into the nebulae of your thoughts,
the more that I wish I could swim in your mind
and feel all the things that you have been through.

Everyday I gaze at the sparkling sky of the stars that are your eyes,
that illuminate you, colour you,
and make you stand-out from the cosmos;
everyday if I were to look at you through a telescope,
or through a microscope-
where others would see beautiful light,
I would see an entire mythos.

The magical and myriad planets
that populate and orbit every facet of your identity
in an endless dance that could never be imitated,
generate a gravity, and an energy,
that since I first met you hasn’t been eclipsed, overcome, or abated.

The universe is a spectacular miracle of life,
that grows greater, and becomes more wondrous for the planets,
the stars, the galaxies, and the life that is created
within it every instant;
however, no matter what galaxies, or star clusters,
have come before, or may come after you-
to me, your galaxy will always shine brighter,
and will always be paramount.

Many people know you, have met you, will always love you,
but when they look at you, they may not be able to describe
the magnificence that we all see-
that is why the only way that I know how to describe you,
is that you are like a galaxy.

My Poem ‘Magician in the Snow’

Poet of the Sphere — Mon, 06 Feb 2012 08:26:28 +0000

A seemingly unremarkable man of average height,
stands alone in the street,
slowly being turned into a living snowman,
as the snow falls and covers him in a coat of white.
Strangers trudge through the near foot-deep snow,
slowly passing him by without even a blink of an eye;
children have snowball fights around him,
while the snow-covered man just stands there in his place
looking up at the sky.
The stars cannot be seen,
a grey cloak of clouds has obscured them;
but the mysterious mans eyes make up for the lack of constellations,
as they shine in the moonlight like never before,
and like they will continue to shine again and again.
He knows a thousand magic tricks,
but on this snowy night the only thing that this magician knows
is that, in the now silent, cold, beautiful, open-air,
the magic of the world is present in every snowflake when it snows.

In a blink of an eye, the magician is now 9 years old-
standing in the snow of a glorious white night,
holding a book of magic tricks in his gloved hands,
and wearing a scarf that reaches down to his ankles,
to protect him from the cold.

As the magician closes his eyes,
he imagines above his head that the clouds have disappeared
and that the light of the galaxy can now be reflected on the snow floor-
to his knowledge, he has yet to learn the spell that can control the weather;
but he is willing to give the thought that he can, his all.

When the magician opens his eyes,
the frozen moon above his head seems to glow much brighter,
and appears to have grown larger, whiter,
as if it almost fills the sky-
a sky that was once filled with falling snow, and bereft of stars,
is now still, perfect, and beautiful,
the magician could almost cry.
Stars sparkle like fixed snow flakes in the clear night sky,
all is white, all is peaceful, as the winter wind continues to blow.
A billion wonderful things happened today,
and one person feels and knows that more than most-
a man who sometimes thinks of himself as a ghost,
but who is right now, and forever,
a magician in the snow.

My Poem ‘Two People’

Poet of the Sphere — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 09:29:58 +0000

Two people in a room-
one of the most simple,
and one of the most complex,
moments that you can have in a day;
two people in a room
is also one of the most precious and special things that can happen,
and one that should never be thrown away.

Two people in a room-
a boyfriend, a girlfriend,
a life-long partner, a friend;
a brother and a sister, who are like two bookends-
you can never underestimate how important those times are,
because they are the moments that you miss the most
when things come to an end.

I have had the most inspiring and life-redefining epiphanies
when it has just been me and someone else-
because they are the moments when you can truly listen,
and focus on another persons world above all else.

If I have something to say to someone,
I would much rather say it one-to-one-
to me it means more, and it can never be over- or under-done.

You can fall in love for a life-time
after only a minute shared with someone
whom you may never have met before-
two people, unmoved and unconcerned by time,
who only have eyes and words for each-other-
and who are never looking at the clock, or at the door.

Two people is where all human life starts;
two people can be the beginning of a new heart that beats,
or the echo of a thousand laughs.
In the past, I have been talking to someone so intently
that I have completely forgotten that we were in a crowded room-
in a club, in a pub, in an office, in the street-
as if we two were self-contained and alone
within our own personal womb.

I love getting together with a lot of people-
sharing ideas, stories, moments of life-
because those memories are always amazing,
energizing, and recognizable;
however, there is just something electric, phenomenal,
beautiful, and fateful, about a room,
and two people.

My Poem ‘The Letter’

Poet of the Sphere — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 12:12:57 +0000

Dear friend,

I have changed so much,
more so than I ever truly realized;
I am not myself anymore,
in ways that I can no longer disguise.
What has changed? Who am I, if I am not myself?
And, why do I feel as if I cannot change things back?
Why do I feel as if I have lost my way,
and that life has covered-over my tracks?
I used to be content in myself,
and untroubled by the intentions of others;
however, I now believe that my focus has shifted
away from what I want, to what it is that everyone else prefers.
Have I been lying this whole time?
If that is the case, then that was not my intention-
things were definitely simpler when I didn’t feel like the technology,
as well as the inventor of the invention.
I feel like I have become a part of the crowd,
where before I was the solo member of my own band;
a sunken island that has been swallowed by the sea,
when all I ever wanted to be was an untainted, free,
oasis of untouched land.
Change can be the best things ever,
putting a spring in your stride can make you feel amazing-
I regularly pray at the altar of variety,
but I sometimes think that things seemed more special
when I was just a boy who was stargazing.
I followed a shooting-star one night,
and from that inspiring evening to now
I have no recollection of the words and the events in-between-
I feel like I have just returned home
from living in the wilderness with no knowledge of where I have been.
How much of who I was remains?
How many traits of who I always wanted to be still live on in me, if any?
I may not be able to turn back the clock, and reset what has happened,
but I can save a part of myself- this letter, this realization-
that was born on the epiphany.

Your friend.

My Poem ‘Naturally’

Poet of the Sphere — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 21:45:22 +0000

Don’t try to be someone you know you are not,
don’t fixate on the opinions of others-
when in doubt, clear your mind, take in a breath,
take a look in the mirror at your own “mugshot”,
and remember back to the days of your favourite summer.

Whether you are a writer, a DJ, a musician,
a decorator, an actor, or a doctor-
whether you have just picked up a pen, a mixer,
an instrument, a muse, or a passion-
if what you do comes naturally to you,
then there is no reason why you cannot go far.

As human beings, every one of us has this empowering,
and sometimes overpowering, need to share what we thrive at doing-
even as children, we create something
and instantly want to show everyone what we have done,
and even at such a young age
that one creation can be a sign and an indication
as to the direction that we are going.

The mind of a child is the most creative, amazing, unbounded,
paradise of freedom on Earth-
from day one, a child is learning and feeling exponentially-
every day is a brand new day, every morning is like a rebirth.

When we are struggling in our daily lives,
the best advice anyone can give you
is to simply go back to basics:
What do you want to say? What do you want to do?
How can you make your mark without any tricks?

Always follow your first thought and see where it leads,
even if what you find is a dead-end-
you can always be sure that the journey you took to get there
is what you really needed.

You can be whomever you want to be,
but when all is said and done
who you are, and who you will always be,
will forever remind you
in the memory of your favourite summer sun.

If you are craving for inspiration,
you feel like you can’t say what you want to say,
and you are thinking that your next great creative act
may be your finale-
think back to when you were a kid,
when the days seemed endless,
when there was no pretense between you and the world,
and when whatever you did
was just what came naturally.

My Poem ‘Black’

Poet of the Sphere — Thu, 19 Jan 2012 12:11:02 +0000

We live in the most self-expressive,
free to believe, free to create, age of global-sufficiency,
that the world has ever known-
where freedom and truth are king and queen,
without the need of a throne.

We no longer all need to be wired-in,
our words and our thoughts
can now travel instantly through the air-
every wall has a door, and anyone can go anywhere.
That is not an illusion, that is fact;
you own what you say-
there is no need for a contract.

Everyone knows that their words and their actions
have consequences all over the world- how could they not?
People are not as ill-informed
as they would like others to believe they are-
everyone knows the difference between what is right and what is wrong,
otherwise everything would happen in the light
and not in the dark.

If we don’t have the freedom to use, voice, remix,
reinterpret, and express, ourselves
in all the ways and means that we are blessed to be able to do,
then I think that that is only the start
of splitting the Earth in-two.

Freedom is the one thing in life
that no one now, in the past, or in the future,
would ever want to give-up, and forever do without;
and if there is one way to show how much freedom means to everyone,
that we want to move forward, and not back,
then I can think of no other recourse
but to turn-off the lights,
and go to black.

My Poem ‘The Coral Belief’

Poet of the Sphere — Tue, 17 Jan 2012 20:29:46 +0000

So many people live in fish tanks,
but they will never see a coral reef;
so many people get to a point in their lives
when they stop asking questions,
and instead focus everything on a singular belief.

We once saw “inanimate objects”
and thought of them as things that are uncomplex,
inconsequential, to be taken advantage of, and overlooked-
we used to believe that because a thing does not appear to move
that they must not be alive,
and so can be pushed with impunity to destruct.

All life is the offspring of the same ocean;
however, some are afraid to return, some don’t want to return,
but some do return to retrace the steps from what they have become;
whether from the seas of Earth,
or the infinite expanse of space-
all life is unique, and yet cosmologically, intrinsically,
irrationally, illogically, connected, one and the same-
from the beginning, until all life has been bred and done.

Sometimes, time, passion, patience, and discovery,
is all you need to see the web of the stars,
and the similarities between humanity and the Great Barrier Reef-
that is the way that I see things,
that is my coral belief.

My Poem ‘Today’

Poet of the Sphere — Fri, 13 Jan 2012 21:40:58 +0000

This morning is the start of a new day,
a new poem, a new sky, a new light-
this morning is blue-sky blessed,
cold, beautiful, and bright.
This morning I turned on my iPod,
selected my favourite song,
and sung along to the lyrics
that are always at the foundation
of a great new day-
every song I listen to,
from the first to the last,
tap into my source spark,
make me feel as light as a feather,
and take me away.
I have a cup of tea,
I get dressed for the day,
and then I take my tea, my music,
and my poetry with me-
I set-out into the new morning,
accompanied by the transcendent voice of Kirsty Hawkshaw
singing ‘A Million Stars’, to the epic beats of BT.
I brave the cold and the ice,
warmed through-and-through by my coat, my scarf,
and by my hope to be inspired by all that I see;
I walk the paths, through the gates, over hills, and through trees;
I stand in the middle of my favourite forest-
alone, and inspired by every second,
as I watch my breath begin to freeze.

Just after noon, I return home-
check my emails, log-on to Facebook,
and tweet my friends, and followers, from my phone;
I sit down, and begin reading another chapter
of the magnificent ‘Warhorse’ by Michael Morpurgo-
I still cannot believe that I had never heard, or read,
this beautiful book until now,
because I love everything about it:
the characters, the emotional resonance, and its amazing flow.
In the afternoon sun,
I stand outside my house,
taking in the world around me,
and sensing the aroma of a fire burning
in the distance on the air-
the smell is so intoxicating to me,
so much so that I imagine that I am standing by a roaring fire,
hypnotized by the heat and the flames,
alone, in the middle of nowhere.

At night,
I gaze at the constellation of Orion from my garden,
whilst listening to the amazing ‘Saltwater’ by Chicane-
and I am moved to tears by the staggering beauty of everything,
as the wonderful gift of life overcomes me
and can no longer be contained within my brain.

Friday, the 13th of January, 2012,
was a day filled with so many more wonderful gifts of life
that I experienced than I could accurately, poetically, delve;
however, it was a day when an idea became a reality
that in my eyes reverberated throughout the entire Milky Way-
and this is that idea,
this is my poem,
this was, and this is,
Today.

My Poem ‘The White Crow’

Poet of the Sphere — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 20:35:09 +0000

A bird flew down from high above;
it wasn’t a seagull, it wasn’t a dove-
the bird that landed at my feet, in the street,
was a crow; but not a crow of the colour
that your eyes would commonly meet-
it looked like a crow,
it cawed like a crow,
but its eyes were pink and bright;
it moved like a crow,
it stood like a crow-
but one the like of which I had never seen before,
because this crow wasn’t black,
this unbelievable crow was completely white.
Such a beautiful bird- the colour of snow,
with a glow like that of the moon-
I was mesmerized by it as it opened its white feathered wings,
as it took-flight into the sky like a balloon.
I was flabbergasted by what had just happened,
and also saddened by the white crows sudden departure-
while it stood at me feet I felt elated,
but now that it was gone I felt like I had been shot
through the heart by the arrow of an archer.

Later that same day,
the same crow yet again came my way-
flying over my head, seemingly about to land in the direction of the park-
and as soon as I saw it, I ran in the direction that it flew-
until I must have tripped over something,
because the world soon after went very quickly dark.

When I opened my eyes again
I was instantly blinded by an unbelievably bright light-
before this light became shadowed, and yet golden,
like someone was standing over me wearing a halo of white.

When my vision finally cleared,
I saw that I was looking into the eyes and at the face of an Angel,
or so it appeared-
because I was now looking at someone whom I had never seen,
but whom I couldn’t take my eyes away from-
because she looked so beautiful.

I got myself up off of the ground, feeling as if I had been in a fight-
and the Angel that was standing besides me asked:

“Are you ok? You gave me quite a fright!
I was just about to call an ambulance. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” I said, with a smile, as I put my right hand to my head;
“I don’t even know what happened.” I said,
“I guess in the future I should watch where I tread?”

“One minute you were running around the corner,
and the next you were lying on your back.
I don’t know what happened,” the Angel said,
“but you must have given your head quite a whack?”

“I don’t know what happened either?” I explained-
“you see, I was following a bird-”

“A white crow?” the Angel replied immediately,
before I could say another word.

“Yes!” I said with a shriek, “Did you see it too?”
I asked, with my eyes as wide as the sky,
and I could see that my Angels eyes were too.

“You bet I did! I had never seen one before!
It landed right here, but at first I didn’t know it was a crow-
because it wasn’t black, I wasn’t really sure.
You know, I really think that we should get your head checked-out?”

“We?” I said, with a flutter of hope in my heart,
but also with a touch of doubt.

“Well, I think I better come with you-
just in case you follow anymore birds,
and again find yourself on the ground looking up at the sky,”
my Angel said, with a spark in her eyes and a smile so beautiful
that it would make a grown-man cry.

“Sure,” I said, “but just one thing: I’m going to need your name?”
I asked her with a grin on my face,
and a heart in my chest that now felt like a flame.

“I’m Helen,” she said, as she extended out her right hand;
“And you are?” she asked, but the answer to which,
at first I couldn’t remember-

“Mark,” I said, with my heart burning in my chest
and glowing, I was sure like an ember.

“Well, now that we are both acquainted with one another-
shall we go?”

“Yes, of course!” I replied, as we both started to walk,
and then I looked up into the sky again,
and I saw the wings of the white crow.