Year: 2015

My Poem ‘Momentous Momentum’

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

The momentous momentum of life
means something different to everybody
who feels it and experiences it;
the breathtaking fast-paced world
can seem too intense sometimes,
especially when trying to adapt
to the constant changes that happen
that may seem impossible and as hard
as trying to dodge the oncoming flight
of a bullet from a gun;
it is only the very young who have the luxury
to not have to worry about
what is going to happen next,
and because they know no better
if they were asked by one of their friends
to jump off a cliff they would in a heartbeat;
it is only as we grow older,
and start looking back and reminiscing about the past,
do we start caring about the passage of time,
and how important all the days of your life were
when you were blessed by love, friends, family,
and the golden light of the sun.

Children have no perspective,
because most perspective is born
from the marrying together of experience and meaning;
adults have the gift of knowing right from wrong,
and yet they still make the same mistakes over and over again;
children have all the energy in the world,
they could outlast anyone in a marathon,
but because they have so much drive and passion
it is hard for them to focus on just one thing;
adults find it challenging most of the time
to simplify their thoughts and their lives,
because, more so than a child,
their thoughts are always at the mercy of their emotions.

Your life is not short,
unless you choose to shorten it;
your choices become complicated
the more that you think;
your life is supremely important,
and you are constantly making a difference
to your own life, and to other peoples lives,
even on the days when you do not think
that what you are doing
would be anyone’s definition of something exciting;
your choice to get out of bed,
to think about another person,
to do something for yourself, and for someone else,
is something that you learned at a very young age
when the thought of looking out the window,
running out the door, enjoying all the time
and moments that you didn’t even know you had,
was absolutely awe-inspiring;
and even when you think that life
could not possibly do anything anymore to surprise you,
something will happen that will be profoundly enlightening,
and it may be something akin to an eternal puzzle,
that you might spend the rest of your life deciphering.

Never be frightened of your feelings;
daily embark on a personal mission;
remember as much as you can of what you see
and the moments in which you are living;
embrace the rush of inspiration,
and take every opportunity to think outside the box,
and without even realizing it at first
you will be a part, and enjoying,
the wondrousness of life’s momentous momentum.

IMG-20150211-WA0001

My Poem ‘Corvus’

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

As black as the night-sky,
as intelligent as a mathematician,
as symbolic of life and death
as any bird that you will seeing flying in the sky,
the Crow is a bird that has always
gripped me with intrigue, awe, and fascination.

Crows have always been close by
when something life-changing and important
was just about to rise on the horizon;
there have been legends written and told
that tell of crows being messengers of life and the afterlife;
crows have featured in many supernatural stories
that walk a line of magic,
and tell tales of emissaries of hell and heaven;
if there we ever a bird that I would imagine
to be the perfect embodiment of night existing during the day,
it would have to be the crow, in every way –
even their black, pearl-like, eyes
are enough to elicit a shiver and a fright.

I often hear the caw of a crow;
I see a murder of crows almost every day;
I live very near to a forest of trees
in which crows roost and have a nest
on almost every branch of every tree,
and they have been there for longer than I know;
I have come face to face with a crow more than once,
and on more than one occasion it seemed to me
as if there was more to their fascination with me than I could ever say.

Crows are carriers of information;
crows are renowned in mythology as omens of gods and goddesses,
as tricksters, as reincarnated spirits,
who have unparalleled direction.
I believe there is more truth in a crows symbolism and significance
than legend or mythology could ever tell us.
In my bedroom, I have the most life-like
figure of a crow you will ever see,
and for some reason the sight of them
always gives me pause and focus;
and the name that I have given the crow perched on my bookshelf,
next to my Stephen King books,
is the same name as its genus –
the one and only ‘Corvus’.

IMG_20150210_174750

My Poem ‘Read my thoughts’

Mark Hastings Uncategorized , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I am like an open book;
people can usually tell
what I am feeling with a single look;
I express myself a lot;
when I am not speaking I am thinking;
I always have an idea on my mind,
and an expression on my face to be read
that tells its own story –
like the time of a clock;
even when I am dreaming, sleeping, my mind is racing,
and like someone with all the right moves,
in one way or another, I am always dancing.

My thoughts are a constant universe of stars being born;
my dreams are my memories and hopes
being imagined and projected for only me to see;
the eternal hope in my heart and soul
is like an endless, beautiful, and breathtaking new dawn;
my poetry is my gift, my broadcast, my performance,
my love, fears, and desires, printed on a page,
that is the most honest expression of what lies within me,
and what I like to think is the best of me.

Every gift of connection and sharing touches me deeply;
what I say I always intend to be meaningful,
special, heartfelt, and not overly serious, deep, or cheesy;
everyone who knows me, or has met me,
I hope continues to still have the same feeling about me
that they had when they first met me,
and they still remember their first impression of me;
my lasting hope is that everybody remembers me
for the good things I have done,
and share something of me, or about me,
that might serve to inspire others infinitely.

It is not important to say everything you are thinking,
however if you are like me you can’t ever keep
what is on your mind locked away behind lock and key;
it is not everybody who is lucky enough
to be able to paint their own portrait
and display it for all the world to see.
When fate calls you, when destiny sends you a sign,
if you can see what is right in front of you,
and if you can read between the lines,
you can read my mind,
you can feel the meaning of something
before you even know what it is all for.
So, if you ever meet me, if you ever see me,
if you read something that I have written,
if you happen to pick up one of my books,
then I can guarantee you that without too much effort at all,
you will easily be able to read my thoughts.

image

Mark Hastings: The Eternal Boy

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

image

image

My new book ‘The Eternal Boy‘ is finally here! It is available to buy right now on Amazon in both paperback and ebook versions – Amazon.co.uk: http://amzn.to/1vACmgI and Amazon.com: http://amzn.to/1KGCCfw

–Mark 🙂

My Poem ‘Send in the Poets’

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

Send in the poets,
instead of firing your bullets;
send in the poets
to raise your spirits;
send in the poets
to inspire hope that you will never forget;
send in the poets
to give you a feeling in your heart that you can’t express;
send in the poets,
and they will take away your fears,
and alleviate you of any distress;
send in the poets,
and you will feel blessed;
send in the poets,
and you will see love coalesced;
send in the poets,
and your heart will beat, spark,
and thunder like a lightning storm in your chest;
send in the poets,
listen to them read a poem,
and feel absolutely refreshed
and like your best;
send in the poets,
and experience a magical moment,
as you watch the sun setting in the West;
send in the poets,
and you will know incredible happiness;
send in the poets,
and you will know nothing but success;
send in the poets,
to know true paradise and bliss;
send in the poets,
and for the first time in your life
you will feel like you can achieve anything,
and take all of life’s hits,
understand all of life’s tricks,
be hypnotized by the moments of an eclipse,
be transfixed, know the reason that you exist,
never again feel adrift,
believe you will possess all that you have ever wished,
emerge like a butterfly from a chrysalis.
Words are sometimes hard to say,
but in those moments when there is so much to say
that needs to be said:
open your heart, open the door,
and let in the wizard of words and the awesome orator;
close your eyes, and ask the universe
to send in the poets.

My New Book ‘The Eternal Boy’

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

Hi, everyone!

My new book of poetry ‘The Eternal Boy’ is now available to preorder from Amazon.co.uk: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1938082095 and Amazon.com: http://amzn.com/1938082095 – check it out and get your copy now! 🙂

me-wordsmith-a4_alternate-2b

-Mark

My Poem ‘No Filter’

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

A beautiful, gorgeous, sunny, warm morning –
with blue sky above, multiple reflections all around,
people coming and going, living, breathing,
seeing, experiencing, and music playing everywhere you are,
and a different voice for every hour that you hear.

I am sitting with a wonderful cup of coffee,
at a table next to a wall of windows
that stretch as far as the eye can see;
I am looking out at the city,
basking in the daylight of sunlight,
feeling energized and inspired
by the atmosphere of outside and inside;
I am seeing, listening, drinking,
thinking, dreaming, feeling,
and doing my favourite thing: writing poetry.

I am in plain sight, and it is as if no one can see me,
or is interested in me, or what I am doing –
nobody would ever think to approach me,
and ask me what I am writing;
however, if someone were to ask me what I am doing,
or how I was feeling, I would tell them that
the only way that I can describe how I am feeling
at this exact moment, is to say that:
I feel as if I am a bird in the sky,
hovering above the rest of the world,
not even needing to flap my wings too much
in any way at any time –
because I know that there are times
when instead of exerting yourself
with a lot of flapping about,
sometimes you can get to where you need to be
by simply using the external forces that surround you,
and using them, if you have the means,
to simply and silently glide.

As I look at the world,
the natural daylight instantly highlights the colours,
the details, the resonant aura of everything,
and the reason for things to be the way
that they click into place;
as I see the spectrum of existence and life jump out at me,
I have the biggest smile on my face;
as I look to the horizon,
and then to what I see right in front of me,
the scale and the impact that hits me
of certain things, that for some reason interest me,
instantly inspire me, and I see patterns repeating,
and shapes that have meaning;
I see and read emotions, attitudes, interests, tastes,
on the faces and in the actions of everybody,
and I am intrigued and fascinated;
and I also see things that I would change, if I could –
if I could just blink, or snap my fingers,
and change someone’s direction,
or show them another choice to make,
or an alternative to something I can see they are about to do –
however, I am merely an observer, a poet,
someone who can only say what he sees,
and express how something makes him feel,
and, though sometimes I wish I were,
I am far from omnipotent,
and that is a good thing.

Life is what it is;
the world is many things,
and is in many states of being, all at once;
some things that happen can feel like a magic trick;
everyone can believe anything they want.
Whether in the bloom of spring;
whether in the cold but beautiful light and air of winter;
whether you are doing something you have done before,
or whether you are being blessed
with the sight of something you cannot ever remember
at any time before seeing;
whether you are sitting, standing, lying, waiting,
and you have a chance, a moment, to look around
and take in life and the world,
do so if you can with perfect vision
and with no need for a filter.

image

My Poem ‘Sex’

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

The greatest thing about humanity,
the thing that excites me, inspires me,
drives me, thrills me, and always makes me happy,
is the thought of the infinite
and endless potential of everyone on Earth
to do and to be whoever and whatever they want to be;
no matter their background, skin colour, disposition, or sex –
man, woman, black, or white –
you can achieve what no one would expect;
you can work hard, and do what you love,
and be an inspiration to those who will see you
as a shining example to follow,
and who will want to emulate you,
stick a picture of you up on their wall,
and look at you as their hero.

The long-held misogynistic and sexist views,
opinions, and barriers, have for the most part
been replaced by role-models of both sexes to both sexes,
who give samples of wisdom and templates off possibility
that anyone can see and copy, if they want;
however, anyone who is looked upon as a star
in the eyes of someone else will tell
any budding emulator of their craft
that they first and foremost have to take their own path,
and try not to be too much of a carbon-copy of anyone,
because, as an artist will tell you,
the best art is one that is individual
and personal to the artist who creates it,
and if you just replicate a style, a voice,
a way of being, without your own spark of creativity
infused into the mix, whatever you do
will constantly be missing something:
your touch, your taste, your heart, your imagination,
and everything else that is vital,
that no one else could possibly bring.

Both men and women, of all ages,
can be writers, artists, teachers,
musicians, singers, politicians, magicians,
drivers, divers, astronauts, police officers,
entrepreneurs, builders, designers, chefs,
shop owners, hairdressers, presidents, prime ministers,
celebrities in their own right,
because they are capable
and because they have achieved something extraordinary –
because they felt like they could make a difference to the world,
and even the problems that they may envision
coming face to face with don’t feel too complex,
and as they get closer to the goals
that they and everyone sets themselves,
it will be like achieving something amazing in the best way you can:
by taking every opportunity to show the potential they have inside them,
and focusing, and working hard to steadily make the most
and appreciate every step.
The world can change in such a short period of time,
and what will happen next, and what people will achieve,
will have everything to do with what their heart desires,
and have next to nothing to do
with their colour, creed, upbringing, or sex.

My Poem ‘Aubergine’

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

Who can predict what a new day will be about
when they wake up in the morning;
who can tell what the moments of a life
may some day come to mean;
who can truly know why songwriters write the songs that they do,
and infuse such emotion and intensity in the words that they sing;
who can understand the ‘codeword’
shared between a small group of people,
if they don’t know what it means,
especially if you are unaware of the history
and the shared etymology that radiates from a word or a phrase –
especially when the codeword in question
happens to be “aubergine”.

It’s fun to share exclusive relationships with people;
it’s amazing to have secret ciphers in your mind
that you can use to decode an encrypted message at a moments notice;
it’s great to have the vision to see the seemingly invisible,
as if you have got a magic eye;
it’s inspiring talking and meeting someone when all things feel equal;
it’s a sacred moment when you see
the beautiful pink and white petals of a lotus;
it’s wonderful making a new tie.

People speak, even when their lips are tight and their voice is silent.
Sometimes a picture says it all.
Words and memories mean more to some people than others,
because to a lot of people things are said but they are not meant.
Nothing can hold back a flood – of water, of emotion –
and over time levels of things rise and fall;
however, there comes a point when things overflow
and nothing on Earth can hold back anything again,
not even the best built wall.

If you believe that there is nothing to do,
if you think that you have seen it all,
if you just keep repeating what you have heard,
you need to find a way to take off the shades that you are wearing
that are blurring and distorting your vision of your surroundings,
and look somewhere and go somewhere where you have been countless times –
however, if you look without any expectation,
and if you try to clear your mind of your collected emotional shadows,
you may see something that you have never seen.

Even a grain of sand has its own story;
every dream that everyone has is a truth-based alternate-reality fantasy;
even a meal could not come into being
if where the ingredients of it originated hadn’t at some point
once been a seed, or someone’s idea of a dream;
everything is the favourite of someone;
everybody everyday ventures out onto the sea of life,
like a surfer holding, relying, using, keeping afloat, and swimming,
farther and farther out on the water
towards the direction of the approaching and oncoming waves;
and as they see something about to hit them at full-speed
everyone says something to themselves,
or to anyone who may be listening,
and it could be anything:
my word of the day, that will help and assist me
in riding the waves that face me today,
is a word that you don’t see or hear everyday –
my word of the day is the tasty-sounding, nutritious,
and deeply meaningful muse, that has the codeword “aubergine”.

My Poem ‘Let me go, and I will run’

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

It’s fun to let your thoughts drift away from you;
it’s good to let your thoughts run away from you;
it’s exciting to experience your thoughts changing;
it’s incredible to have an idea
that spontaneously pops into your head,
as if from out of nowhere,
which just takes over every other thought of your mind
and function of your body –
and which also becomes all that you can talk about,
and to you it is all that is worth saying.

I have a brand new idea for something,
usually for the title of a new poem,
every hour of every day;
however, of the sixty ideas that I have,
by the end of every hour, they have become one idea,
and by the end of every day –
usually just before I fall asleep –
the first words of a perfect thought,
and the first verse of poetry of my own imagining,
has been ingrained in my consciousness,
and is just waiting to be written,
in my own unique way.

Ideas are important;
every idea that I have ever had
has set my imagination on fire;
ideas are building blocks, as well as foundations;
of all the ideas that I have had,
deciding one day to write down
what was on my mind at the time
was the one muse that is still a constant;
ideas are the offspring of desire;
every idea I have had has enlightened me in some way;
and following the path of an idea,
and taking the journey of the eternal dreamer,
is my way of reaching a higher state of consciousness,
and in a way it is my own form of meditation.

Ever since I was a kid,
I have been used to exerting my body
and using every physical muscle at my disposal
to achieve feats of strength and speed;
as a child, as an adult,
I was off like a shot,
running my heart out to somewhere I needed to get to,
and perhaps to someone in need;
ever since writing has become my passion, my devotion,
my love, and one of the defining parts of my heart, my soul,
my identity, there has not been a day that has gone by
when the question ‘what am I going to write about next?’
has not been uttered by me –
and even now I am asking that question, and answering it also,
and to me there is no more perfect
and beautiful form of writing than poetry.

When I can be myself;
when I am not constrained by glass, brick, wood, metal,
windows, doors, walls, and locks;
when I can step out into the daylight
and feel the beating warmth of the sun;
when I am unaware of time, and I can move with stealth;
when I am thinking wholly, completely,
and tantalizingly, out of the box;
when I can cut the strings and the ties
of anything that might be holding me, my mind,
my imagination, back in any way –
I promise you, world: let me go, and I will run.