My Poem “Excelsior!”

Mark Hastings Poetry , , , , , , , , , , ,

Some writers are natural born storytellers…
some creators create characters
who are so Mighty, so Amazing, so Incredible,
so Fantastic, that they leap from the words,
from the pictures, from the pages,
where they were first written and drawn,
and they ascend and travel far beyond
the dreams of the one who first
breathed life into them…
some writers have a way of defining
the times that they live in with their stories,
and then there are those writers
whose imagination is so beyond
any measurable spectrum that their influence
stretches over space and time…
there are very few writers and creators
like Stan “The Man” Lee –
because he was a Marvel in his own right
and a god to those who knew of him
and what his characters and stories
will always mean to the world…
Stan Lee was more than just a writer
and a creator of some of the most influential
superheroes of our time:
Spider-man, The Hulk, Thor, Iron Man,
The X-Men, Daredevil, Doctor Strange,
The Fantastic Four – and he
made an entire generation of dreamers
into True Believers…
I will always remember his smile,
his voice, his one of a kind mind,
his generous heart, his timeless ethos
that: “One person can make a difference” –
and there could never be enough said
about what he will always mean
to so many people all around the world…
and so, I say goodbye to the one and the only
Stan Lee by looking up to the sky
and reciting his life motto: Excelsior!



RIP Stan Lee
1922-2018

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My Poem “Hell in Paradise”

Mark Hastings Poetry , , , , , , , , ,

A monstrous wild-fire is raging…
people are running for their lives…
a hell-storm is raining down
on the small town of Paradise…
California is burning…
those who have the power to help
should be helping those in need
instead of criticizing…
Trees, homes, hospitals
have been devastated…
highways are jammed, as people try to escape…
even those who live far away
from this heartbreaking and horrifying disaster
have been forced to evacuate…
panic fills the air…
tears fall like raindrops from the eyes
of those who have lost everything…
a cloud of smoke chokes the evacuees
that flee the fire that can be seen 100 miles away…
people are asking God to help them
make the devilish flames surrounding
the City of Angels cease and go away…
and my heart goes out to everybody who has been
affected by the fire that is currently
raging in California –
and I just hope and pray that the rain of heaven
will soon pour down and bring an end
to the hell that is currently
waging war on Paradise.

My Poem “A hundred years”

Mark Hastings Poetry , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

It has been a hundred years
since the First World War ended –
“the war to end all wars” –
and yet humanity still wages war
against itself every day…
it has been a hundred years
since brave men put their lives
on the line to bring peace
to the entire world –
and yet, every day, soldiers
still march, fight, and oppose
the might of an adversarial army and ideology
whose subscribed members
cannot always be plainly identified…
it has been a hundred years,
it has been a life-time,
it has been a century since families
put their hands together to pray
that we may never again see the day
when humanity would take up arms against itself –
and yet people still do harm to others every day,
and peace between everybody cannot be maintained…
it has been a hundred years
since the soldiers and the survivors of World War I
put down their weapons and began
the long walk of grief,
hoping to remember the fallen
and to never allow history to repeat itself;
however, 11 years after the end
of “the war to end all wars”,
another war sparked into life
and millions of people died –
and when it ended, six long years later,
the world was assured that the peace
that was won at a heavy cost would always endure…
it has been a hundred years
since an understanding was reached by many nations
to work together instead of fighting each other –
and yet, a hundred years since
war should have become a thing of the past,
our world is still in a constant struggle with itself
and not everybody wants to get along with one-another;
however, no matter the constant conflict
that still exists around the world,
I still remain hopeful that humanity
will one day find universal peace and serenity –
but hopefully it won’t need to take another hundred years
for the entire world to come to its senses
and learn to get along with each other
for the sake of our children’s future.

My Poem “Birthplace”

Mark Hastings Poetry , , , , , , , ,

After they are born,
most people do not return
to the place of their birth…
most people have no memory of,
nor any connection with,
the one place on Earth
where they arrived in this world…
it is only as we get older,
when we start asking questions
about who we are and where we come from,
that we find out more about
the place on our birth-certificate…
sometimes, for some people,
returning to the place where the first person
saw their newborn face is a difficult experience
and not one that they which to repeat…
where we are born is integral to who we will be,
how we will think, and the direction in life
that we will take…
everybody is shaped and molded by the world around them –
but the place where a person’s story begins
has an impact that cannot be overstated…
whether someone is born in a hospital,
on an airplane, in a forest,
in the back of a car, in a lift, or in a pool of water –
that first point of interaction with the world,
that first inhale of air,
the first sights, the first sounds,
the first light of life that we see
are the first things that welcome us
into this world of gravity,
meaning, purpose, interface –
and that is why I believe that there is
something special and meaningful
about the exact when and where
that was, and will always be,
our birthplace.

My Poem “Vicarious”

Mark Hastings Poetry , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

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 “Autopilot”

Mark Hastings Poetry , , , , , , , , , , , ,

During the day when I am at work
I feel like I am on autopilot –
while at night I feel free to be,
free to live how I want to live,
and free to dream while still awake
about the things that complete
my heart and make me happy.

Cycles and routines define our existence
in this modern age, as they always have
in one way or another, in some shape or form…
most living things have their own preference
when it comes to when they feel
the most energized and alive –
some feel their most inspired
while gazing up at a sky of starlight,
while others feel invigorated
when the first light of the sun breaks at dawn.

Sometimes we do things so often, day after day,
that they become second nature to us
and we do them without even thinking…
when something or someone becomes
a constant in our lives
we can come to believe that
a life without them in it would not be worth living.

There are times in our lives when we need to make a choice,
but we don’t know how to make it –
and when that predicament occurs
each and every one knows that we can allow destiny
to choose for us and let God take the wheel of our life
and steer us in the direction that we are fated to take.

Autopilots are great… autopilots are amazing…
autopilots are a simple solution to a complex problem –
however, where is the living? Where is the fun?
Where is the imagination that comes out of the random?
Life can sometimes be predictable
and what happens next can sometimes be predicted,
and there is nothing wrong with that –
however, in my experience, nothing can ever compare
to the act of spontaneity and living in the moment.

Sometimes, because we think that we can predict
the outcome of something, we can become complacent
and we no longer expect the unexpected –
and, in a way, that is a good thing,
because when something happens that our inner autopilot
does not know how to deal with
each of us is forced to adapt and think outside the box
that we sometimes feel trapped within,
and we must do what we human beings do best:
live, dream, imagine, and act on our instincts.