Month: November 2016

My Poem ‘The Lightning Conductor’

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

Life is an epic symphony…
life has a melody and a rhythm,
and a reason to be…
life is a series of rises and falls…
life has an air to it –
sometimes there is blue-sky and sunshine,
sometimes there are clouds, rain, thunder-storms…
life, in all its forms, is a work-in-progress
masterpiece, written, imagined, interpreted,
and conducted by a thunderous
and powerful conductor.

All things were created to work
in-concert with one-another –
but sometimes what that means
and how to put that message into practice
is interpreted in many different ways,
by many different people all over the world,
and it has been for all the centuries
of human existence;
everybody and every-one
are all individual players
of the same orchestra –
each playing their individual instruments
that they are gifted to play
and are destined to use
to both speak and listen;
all music has a composer –
it is not accidental that a musician
comes up with a sound, brings it to life,
and then they play it for all the world to hear;
every artist gifted in imagining inspiration,
visually or in an auditory-form,
is doing something that when it reaches
its true-potential can leave somebody
breathless, speechless,
captivated, and in-awe.

It was once thought that only the gods
of myth and legend could call-upon
and harness the forces of nature
and bend them to their will –
however, in my experience,
there are more forces of nature
than most people can name,
because in times gone by
“magic” was the word used
to describe some of these forces,
because they do not conform
with nature’s laws;
I am here to set the record straight,
and to say that lightning, energy,
sunlight, electricity, inspiration,
is not just a gift sent to us from the heavens –
I know this, because I feel, I touch, I live,
I interpret, I thrive, and I am kept alive
by a life-force that instantly strikes me
over and over again,
and every time it changes me a little,
and when it does I conduct my own movements
and I give others a reason to go on a journey
that they may never have thought to take before…
as I compose my own music,
while playing the music of the divine maestro,
and while being conducted
by life’s lightning conductor.

My Poem ‘Echoes’

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When I turn the other way,
I hear the sound of echoes
that are following me;
when I open up my heart,
I breath in and I breath out
the essence of divine poetry;
when I look to the sky above,
I hear the song of stars
that are hidden from view;
when I touch the Earth below,
I feel the rhythm of life
that feeds the trees
and makes the flowers bloom.

When I close my eyes at night,
I go to a place that calls to me;
when I reach beyond my grasp,
I touch the face of infinite beauty;
when I see the light of day,
I feel the gift of god within;
when I walk through the rain,
I feel the drops of purity upon my skin;
when I fly above the clouds,
I see the playground where the angels dwell;
when I dream of heaven’s gates,
I wonder if I will be welcomed one day
within open-arms or by the sound of a bell.

When I wake up every day,
I know that I am here
for a reason that I do not yet know;
when I see the lightning in the sky,
when I feel the static in the air,
when I hear the sound of thunder,
I reach up my hands
to catch the bolts of electricity,
and I live every moment after
addicted to the echoes.

My Poem ‘Happy Thanksgiving’

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

If life teaches us anything
it is that our time on Earth
is precious…
if life has taught me anything
over the last year
it is that every today and tomorrow
that I have is a gift…
if life teaches everybody one thing
it is that we should all
be thankful for the happy memories in our mind,
the air in our lungs,
and the beats of our heart…
if life teaches me something every day
it is that love is the greatest present
that anybody could ever give.

The beginning of this year was bleak…
when this new year began
I had no idea what the future held –
I hoped that things and people
would get better, but I didn’t have a plan…
on January 1st, my new year’s wish
was that my loved-ones would no longer
have to suffer any pain…
it has been 11 months,
and my family, my friends, and the world
has been through so much –
but there is always a reason to smile,
there is always a reason to stay optimistic,
there is always a reason to keep going,
there is always a reason to wake up
and thank god that you are still one of the living.

Days come, and days go –
each day there is a reason
to lift your head high
and to let your head fall low…
people change, children grow –
each and every day
we are all reminded
that the time of our lives
runs fast, not slow…
I am truly thankful at this moment
to be surrounded still by loved-ones
and by people who I am lucky
to have in my life,
because they know who I am,
where I have been,
and what I have been through…
nobody knows what the future holds –
but, personally, I like to believe
that if we all stick together
we can accomplish anything…
I promise to be there
for those who need me,
whenever and wherever…
and I just want to wish everyone
a very happy thanksgiving.

My Poem ‘Festive Flavours’

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Like the smile of a sunny day…
like the cold of a Winter morning…
like the festive feeling that you see
and feel around the holiday
and Christmas season…
like the Spring flowers of the month of May…
like the anticipation that a child experiences
the night before Christmas morning…
it is at those times when things happen
that are once in a life-time,
when people come together in celebration,
when people are extra caring, sharing, and kind,
when every moment makes every day worth living,
and when joy can sometimes be a welcome contagion.

The morning light is bright…
the morning sky is unbroken blue…
the morning air has a bite…
the morning mood of everybody fills the streets,
and everywhere you go you can hear festive tunes.

There is ice under-foot…
there are people and there are things
that need to be thought of now more than ever…
there are memories from years gone by
that drift into your mind
like a flurry of snow that comes from above…
there are things that we do but once a year, perhaps,
that we should do all year-around –
however, for some reason it is at times like right now,
and it is the season, when every action that we take
resounds like the sound of a ringing bell…
now is the time for festive songs,
for festive food, for festive colours,
and for festive flavours.

My Poem ‘Leap of Faith’

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

My faith is strong;
in my opinion, in this day and age,
keeping your faith
is one of the most important things
that you can do;
depending on what you are going through
at any given time,
some things feel so right
and some things just feel so wrong.
To me, holding on to any kind of faith
is the only way that anyone
can experience the miraculous joy
that comes with a day that feels
truly beautiful and new.

Doubts can set anybody back;
worrying can be paralyzing;
how to find a way out of a maze
that you find yourself in
can be hard to grasp;
waiting for a sign
telling you what you should do next
can be agonizing –
but there is salvation to be found;
there is a power that can help you
ride the wild ocean waves of life
that you see coming towards you…
there is a music and a voice
that can guide you,
and you do not even need to hear a sound…
there is a light of both day and of night
that illuminates what you need to do
brighter than the sun, or the shine of a full-moon.

We all need somebody…
we all need something…
we all need a force stronger than gravity
in our life that keeps us from falling…
we all need that which helps
a single small acorn grow into
the most amazing, blossoming, and mighty of Oak trees.

There is a way
for each and every one of us to feel safe…
there is a way
for us all to get through
seemingly unimaginable long days…
there is a way
for each of us to find a blessing –
by simply thinking about the best things in their life,
or by kneeling down to pray…
there is a way through everything –
but first you must promise yourself
to not give up on hope,
and seek answers to your questions,
and do what comes naturally
to those who are truly willing
to believe in something…
those who are not afraid
to take a running-jump
into a leap of faith.

My Poem ‘Somnabulists’

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

Sometimes when we fall asleep,
as we cross the threshold into dreams,
we instantly wake up…
most of the time,
when we recall what ran through our mind
over the course of the night before
we remember the middle and the end of a dream,
but not the start…
some people live out their hopes
and some people live out their fears
when they walk the streets
of the world of forty-winks…
for some people dreaming of another place
and another time is a welcome escape…
some dreams dreamed are a nightmare
from beginning to end,
while others you want to continue having
for the rest of your life
because they are filled
with so much that you love…
dreamers draw on so much when they dream –
from their life, from their soul,
from their senses, from the joys, and from the sadness
that everybody has within their heart…
learning how to dream
and learning how to live
and breath within a dream
is harder to achieve than some might think…
when we dream, we submit…
when we dream, we let go…
when we dream we all become
a part of the universes oldest myth…
when we dream we give up our control
over our own mind and our own
imagination-engine and we allow
our thoughts and our secrets
to merge into one and just flow –
like a waterfall, like a river,
adding to the infinite depth that has no end,
that often spills out into the waking-world
and is sometimes caught by a camera-lens…
everybody dreams differently, at different times,
and sometimes in different colours…
everybody sees the physical world
and the dream-world from a different perspective,
and their dreams reflect that…
every animal, every bird,
every angel, every man, woman, boy, and girl,
learn vital lessons and they confront
internal manifestations
of real-world obstacles and desires –
and that is at the centre
of dreaming and dreams,
and it is what gives dreams their power…
our dreams are our place
to filter through our thoughts and our memories,
and sometimes the steps that we take
within a dream our physical body
re-enacts in the real-world –
and when that happens,
in both dreams and in life,
we all become sleepwalkers.

My Poem ‘Poetic Mead’

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

Poetry…
the sun is shining,
I am waiting for the world to inspire to me…
there is a fire burning inside me…
the air outside is cold,
but it doesn’t bother me…
I am like a bird flying high and free…
I am finding truth in every mythology…
I write what comes to me…
when I write I sometimes like
to go to places I have never been
and live dangerously…
to me, possibility is the lock
and imagination is the key…
I rise my pen to the sky
and I wait for the lightning to strike
like Thor’s hammer and empower me…
what I do was once hard,
but now it comes naturally…
every day is a chapter in my life-long story…
I will be writing and dreaming
until the end of my life and until my last heart-beat…
I am constantly creating new tales in my mind
even when I am sound asleep…
when I can walk the Earth and see its true beauty
I see and I feel things that to others
might seem small and insignificant –
but it is the briefest of moments in a given day
that mean the most to me…
giving people hope in any way
is somewhat of an obsession for me…
I get great joy from creating
and from leaving a legacy of words
for others to follow behind me…
actions and thoughts creates ripples in reality…
believe in whatever makes you happy…
follow my lead and make an offering
to the gods whose tales live on
and have traveled to the sky above,
over land, and even below the sea…
make a toast to the Norse god Odin,
the god of poetry…
take a seat, and help yourself to some poetic mead.

My Poem ‘The Morning After’

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

Two opposing sides…
two opposite ideologies…
two different leaders…
two people skilled
in vastly different ways –
and in the end, in the aftermath
of a confrontation of ideas,
perspectives, of brutal words and actions,
when the dust has settled,
when the crowds have disbursed,
when the truth of a moment finally “hits home”,
when the pain from tears that fell the night before
starts to sting again…
What do you do? Where do you go?
How do you pick up the pieces and put back together
the only picture you have ever known?
No matter what happened, no matter what might happen next,
the only thing you or anyone can possibly do
is carry on and hold on to hope
that one day the nightmare of your current reality
too will come to an end,
and things will get better again.
It’s hard at first to see
how you are going to cope,
especially when you know
that the immediate days and months
are going to be a tough adjustment –
but nothing lasts forever,
and one day even a once abandoned garden
will soon bear new flowers and new fruit,
and the world will grow again
into being something more familiar to you…
there are always casualties in every battle,
there are always winners and there are always losers,
there is always a change of colours and of livery
when there is an invasion of a castle,
and there is always fear –
especially in the face of uncertainty;
but, this time will pass…
in time, another army of soldiers and followers
will follow a new opposing leader
and retake all that was lost;
in the aftermath of anything sudden and shocking,
it can be hard to see a time
through a storm of bad weather –
however, one day this time now too
will just be another page in the book of history,
and there will be a brand new sunrise
that will guide you and everyone
to a new world future
and a hopeful brand new morning after.

(Written the morning after the US election, in 2016, in which Donald Trump was elected as the 45th President of the United States of America 😦 )

My Poem ‘American Birthright’

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

mypoem-americanbirthright

“America is stronger
when it works together.
Americans are a people
who believe in fairness for all
and who live in hope.
America is special
and can have an
even brighter future.
Today every American
should let their voice
be heard, get out there,
fulfill their birthright and vote.”

-Mark Hastings, 2016

My Poem ‘The Preacher up on the Mountain’

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

The father, the son, the messenger,
the preacher of the word of God…
the man of faith, the man of belief,
the man of love, the man of heart,
the man of song…
when they speak, when they sing,
all who hear their voice
feel their words deep within their soul
and their presence feels like
the lord-himself is speaking
to you through him…
when you are in their church,
when you are one of their congregation,
you can feel the strength of their spirit,
and you feel instantly drawn to them…
the preacher brings the words of the bible to life…
the holy man knows the true meaning of keeping faith
that God loves his children
and that he believes in them more
than they could ever know…
the man who built his own church
and who created a holy place for his family
and for all to worship in
will always be special in the eyes of God,
of Jesus Christ, and in the eyes of those
who they have shepherded throughout their life…
god bless the preacher up on the mountain.