Month: November 2016

My Poem ‘The American Precedent’

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

There is one country on Earth
that everybody looks to…
there is one way of life
that a great many people subscribe to…
there is one constitution
that is like a beacon of light,
hope, and freedom to the world…
there is something very special
that beats within the heart
of every American.

Every country needs a leader…
every country needs a states-person
and an ambassador of what it means
to be a member of a particular society…
every country needs someone
that they can look up to, and be guided by,
who allows their people to be
who they want to be,
and who empowers every kind of person:
from farmers to scientists,
from teachers to dreamers…
every country needs, every country deserves,
someone at the top of their government
who knows what equality for all truly means.

The freedom to express yourself,
the gift to be able to believe in yourself,
the privilege to be able to be an American citizen
is something that all American’s should be proud of…
that which draws eyes from all around the world
to the country of red, white, and blue,
and to their star-spangled banner,
is perhaps only something that can be seen
by an outside-observer looking in
who has been one of the lucky travelers
who have visited America over and over again.

To me, the United States of America
is not just an idea…
it is not just an experiment…
it is a place of unbelievable hope and beauty
whose people should never believe that to trump
fear you must build a wall around you –
in this day and age, in my opinion,
and with all due respect,
America needs a president for all…
for all who know that life
is about more than having the most dollars and cents…
and now is the time for all those who have a voice
that can be used to effect
the course of their country’s future –
because hope, respect, freedom and liberty for all,
are the most important precedents
that should always be championed and upheld
by every American citizen,
and by every American President.

20150928_074552

My Poem ‘Winter’s Solace’

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

Life can sometimes be hard;
sometimes people can live a life of silent pain;
life can sometimes feel like an endless night,
during which the time until the arrival of new light
can seem too long;
sometimes all you need to have in your life,
to get you through a tough time in your life,
is your one and only best-friend –
especially when you feel low…
especially when you feel like you have nowhere to go…
especially when you are up all night
and you sleep through the day…
especially when you need the strength to be brave.

There is always hope, even in darkness;
you can always find solace,
even at the centre of a world of madness;
keep a hold of your faith,
even when you do not at first
recognize the voice of God;
keep love in your heart, always –
and with it you will live and breathe with a purpose,
and every time when you fall to sleep
you will rest like a log.

As the world turns, seasons change…
as the days run away with themselves
it is so easy to feel as if you are losing your place…
as the clouds gather, it can be hard to see
the light of the sun…
as the hours feel like they are merging into one,
everybody needs to stop time,
everybody needs to gather around a source of light –
because everybody needs some peace,
like that which you find in a sun-drenched
autumn-colored forest…
everybody needs some winter solace.

My Poem ‘A Ghost’s Story’

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

Some people think
that ghosts are all in the mind…
some people think
that we see what we want to see…
some people think
that the stories of hauntings
are more often than not
just a bunch of lies…
some people are just unable
to entertain the possibility
of somebody continuing to live
though they may not technically be “alive”…
ghosts, spirits, people remain on Earth
and they talk to us all every day –
but sometimes not in ways
that are easy to believe.

When a human spirit leaves its corporeal life
and is set free of its physical body,
a natural change and transition occurs…
when a human heart stops beating,
another source of spirit grows stronger
and we are given a choice:
to follow our instincts
and to journey to a place
beyond human understanding and comprehension,
or stay on Earth and be shown,
and get to interact with,
the living of humanity
within an existence of limitless-time.

Everybody has a reason to be who and what they are –
some people when they die become songs,
and some people when they die becomes stars;
some people’s spirit live on
within the pages of a book
long after their audible-voice can no longer be heard,
forever inhabiting a story’s every letter of every word;
every form of life, when it fully becomes its own spirit,
lives on – and the more that we explore other planets
in the galaxy I am sure that we will encounter
alien ghosts, also –
and I personally would not be surprised
if one day someone from Earth
finds themselves haunted by the figure
of a dead Martian while living
upon the surface of Mars.

Everybody has a story that they are at the centre of…
some peoples’ stories do not end
when their physical body gives-out…
everybody had a moment during their life,
and after death, when they have to shake-off
who they used to be and become someone else completely new –
the draw of an enticing bright light
is hard not to race towards like a moth…
some peoples’ idea of life after death
to some might be thought of as “heaven”,
and to others that same idea
might be their exact version of “hell”…
life when you are alive is different
to the life that awaits us all
on the other side of the threshold of our twilight
that we have to cross when our time
as a living and breathing human comes to an end…
it is said that when we die
we write the most beautiful poetry…
it is important to say goodbye
to loved-ones and friends…
every person, every-thing lives on…
everybody and everything changes –
but nothing ever truly ends,
and when each of us pass on
our story changes also,
from one like that of a caterpillar
to one like that of a butterfly –
and that is the essence of a ghost’s story.