Transitional Reality Defined

Hello, as most of you know I write poetry, I also paint and when the very special fancy takes me, I create sculptures. Writing however has always been my passion. I have been called an artist, a painter and a poet...I am actually a gardener, a woodsman and a student of the world around me who just happens to express all of these things through poetry, painting and on the odd occasion, sculpture. The truth is, if I really thought about this particular subject I could honestly say that I am at least a couple of dozen things, all of which, much the same as yourselves, go to make up me.

 Once, not so long ago, a good friend of mine was talking about all of these things; what makes a person who they are, what people describe themselves as, and the fact that a lot of people when asked, "so what do you do fella/miss", they almost always reply with their job title and description, their profession. Now, if your job is your life, I'm not knocking it, or if you love your job so much it becomes an automatic answer, great, maybe it's a pleasant mixture of both, and in that case, all the better, but...what makes you, you? What happened to make you, what's broken you, was or is your breaking your making, what defines your reality, what is your own personal meaning of life?

Yes I know I said "define your reality" and yes I know it's a cliche, but think about it, everyone has their own take on the world and what happens therein, their own specific perspective that moulds their ideals, and this is what defines their own personal reality, it's not just a mildly clever cliche.

When I began writing poetry in earnest with a mind to share my words with others, I never for one minute thought I would ever go as far as publishing books filled with my poems, poems that reflect my personal reality. I have written poems, the inspiration for which are taken from my darkest hours when despair, if you can imagine this, was my only company, the flip side of which reflects the exact opposite, where the first conscious breath of the day seems like utter and complete joy bathed in the light of the rapture of existence. There are many of my views and opinions and words inspired by the views and opinions of others, about everything from religious strife or harmony, to the political storm that seems to be raging world over at the moment and how these things and all in between effect the day to day lives of us all. There are poems of love, both tragically lost and the tempest such loss caused around me and the unexpected and magically found love, with all the wonder it brought to my life. There too are many poems of my travels and the varying experience of emotion along the way both good and bad, with acts of savage wickedness and the awe inspiring random kindness and love that holds firm the fire of human dignity and fellowship and...the world of spirituality (for lack of a better word understood by many) that transcends race, religion, creed and colour.  There are poems of the many natural wonders I have been so incredibly lucky to have seen, even the small things that add up to the beauty of the day, like music, both man made and what I like to call 'nature's orchestra', visual art too in it's many exiting forms and the plethora of sights, sounds, smells, thoughts and feelings that inspires such things.

There have been many great people who have inspired me, I have the honour to know many of them and the luck to call most of these my friends. There too have been members of my family, both past and present who have have inspired me. I wrote these books and will continue to write them throughout the transitional period of this life, I hope they in their turn will inspire and help people.
This then, is that which defines, 'my reality'...how about you?

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