Poetry

My Poem “Walter White (A Breaking Bad poem)”

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

What would a man do for his family?
What would a man do in order
to secure a future for his family
after he passed on –
perhaps even after this same man
had to witness the crystal empire
that he had built crumble
into shards of glass and then into dust –
like King Ozymandias –
after which having to live
with the consequences
of the actions that he took
to bolster and to reaffirm
his damaged ego?
What would a man do to feel alive again
after being given a short time to live?
How would the power to be someone else
change someone, and who or what
might they become?
What if someone were to become a cook
of a dangerous product
capable of destroying the lives
of those that imbibe in
what this maestro of chemistry
cooked better than anybody –
who slowly went from being someone
whiter than white, law-abiding,
and a model father and teacher,
to a black hat wearing,
gun-wielding, criminal
called “Heisenberg” who
pulled the wool over the eyes
of his family for over a year,
who broke bad with a former student of his,
called Jesse Pinkham –
in the City of Albuquerque,
in “The Land of Enchantment”
that is the State of New Mexico –
and who in the end lost everything that
he had ever worked for
and sacrificed so much for,
and that is the story of the main protagonist
of one of my favourite TV shows,
‘Breaking Bad’, and the legacy
that it has left since its final episode
“Felina” aired continues
to draw many new people
to seek out, to watch, to enjoy, to live,
and to endure the highs and the lows
that were played out from beginning
to end by the character and “cook”
Walter White and the blue crystal
that was his signature dish.

My Poem “The Quintessential Joker”

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

I have always been someone
who likes to smile, to laugh,
to entertain, and to share my
overflowing enthusiasm
and enjoyment of something…
I have always been someone
who was drawn to moments of time
which revolved around happiness,
hopefulness, and the beauty of life
and the depths of feeling
that the human spirit is prevalent with.

I have always been someone
who understood how precious,
how amazing, what an opportunity,
and what a gift it is to be among
those who live in the world of the living –
and it has been revealed to people
many times over that it is
in those moments in our lives
when our emotions are at their most heightened,
that our minds are open to the possibilities
that surround each and every one of us
but which sometimes have
their secrets and truths
hidden from view because
people are not always in the right
frame of mind to understand
what they mean nor why they are so important…
often times the funniest forms
of comedy come out of the darkest
of situations that we find ourselves in…
some of the greatest writers, storytellers,
and performers the world has ever known
once knew and went through
times of pain, anguish, and fear
that they had to go through and overcome –
because everybody has different ways
of coping with everything
that they have to endure,
and everybody has different
levels of resilience and tolerance –
and there are times when some people
do the wrong thing at the wrong time
but they do not come to their senses
until much later in their life.

Everybody needs some kind
of outlet to return to…
everybody needs some kind
of way to express themselves…
everybody needs some kind
of flickering flame to get them
through the most trying of nights…
everybody knows what is funny to them
and what makes them explode
into a fit of laughter,
and everybody knows someone
who can lighten their mood
and without even having to try
can turn on their charm
and become the quintessential joker.

My Poem “The Wolf Within Me”

Mark Hastings books, me, Poetry , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

It was about three years ago,
around this exact same day
and month of the year,
when I decided to write a poem
for Halloween called “The Wolf In Me”;
however, to my amazement, what was
supposed to be a poem slowly but surely
grew into becoming a short story,
a novella, and then ultimately
a short novel capable of standing
on its own and filling an entire book –
and this story was the first chapter
in the tale of Olivia Hunter:
a young woman burdened with a curse,
a secret, a gift, a spirit within her
capable of transforming her into a Wolf,
because the secret that she lived with,
alone, was that she was a werewolf.

When I first began writing “The Wolf In Me”
I had no idea that it would ultimately be what it became…
when I first began Olivia Hunter‘s journey
with her I was just as in the dark about
where her story would take her,
because there was no plan as to the direction
of every twist and turn…
when I first began writing, imagining,
and bringing to life the world,
the characters, and the story of
“The Wolf In Me” I felt myself
be carried away and compelled
to write more, to know more,
and to find out more about
what was going to happen
and where Olivia’s story felt like
it was telling me – the writer – to take it…
when I first began writing “The Wolf In Me”
I began to feel more and more –
the more that I wrote –
that I could be a writer
who explored and exposed different worlds
and different depths of life, of people,
and fully investigate subjects like
identity, change, life, loss,
and those things that are important
to everybody’s daily lives
and their state of mind.

Since I finished writing “The Wolf In Me”
I have written many other things –
short stories, poems – and I even wrote
and published a sequel to “The Wolf In Me”
called “The Wolf In You”;
however, for some reason, from time to time,
in my mind I am drawn back to the thought
of the character whom I imagined,
thought about, lived, breathed,
and wrote about, every day until
I had to say goodbye to her
and let her story speak for itself –
and I silently wonder how she is,
where she is, what she is doing,
and if one day Olivia Hunter may choose
to inspire another story about her
that speaks to the spirit of The Wolf
who I believe resides within me.

My books “The Wolf In Me” and “The Wolf In You”,
as well as all my other books of poetry and stories
are available to buy online from Amazon,
Barnes & Noble, and The Book Depository
in Paperback and as an eBook.

Happy National Storyteller Day!

My Poem “Baba Yaga”

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

There have been times
in everybody’s life
when they have been wide away
at an hour of twilight –
when the moon was shining
its white halo of reflected light
back at those looking
at it from below –
when people have felt,
even though they were alone,
as if an invisible presence was
sitting next to them, staring at them,
and communicating to them a choice
that they needed to make –
for some this spirit may have been
personified as being an angel,
a ghost, a reflection in the mirror,
a face in the flames of a fire,
a rebel devil, a man in black,
a bright light, a dark shadow,
a messenger of heaven, a hellion of hell,
a pale rider, an emissary of purgatory,
a crossroads guide, a Boogeyman,
or perhaps a scary witch who
goes by the name of “Baba Yaga”,
who tests everybody whom they find
or who finds them, in order
to discover who a person is
deep within their soul.

My Poem “The Lion of His Pride”

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

I am just now starting
to recover from the storm
of thoughts, feelings,
and emotions that I have
felt swirling around me,
within me, over the past
two weeks – fourteen days
over which I and my family
have been tested in ways
like never before.

Every day for two weeks
I and my family woke up,
greeted the sunlight of the new day,
clasped our hands together,
looked up to the blue sky,
as we collectively and individually
prayed that things would be ok
and that my Dad would soon
awaken and be saved.

It’s hard to put into words
and to find some kind of reason
to describe what happened and why…
it’s hard to know what to say
and what to do when something
so shocking as what happened happens –
especially when all that you feel
like you want to do is cry.

Everybody has their own path to take
and their own steps to make
when coming to terms with something
so frightening – and no one more so
than the one who is at the centre
of attention and care
who is being willed to get better
and to regain enough strength
to open their eyes,
to say what they want to say,
and to once again stand up
on their own two feet…
there is nothing more scarier to me
than being in the shoes of someone
who has been incapacitated –
but, as I whispered into the ear
of my Dad when he was unconscious,
for my Dad I would have without question
chosen to take his place.

For someone who has seen
as much as my Dad has seen,
for someone who has felt
as much pain as my Dad has felt
throughout his life,
for someone who has been
through so many unprovoked battles
as my Dad has been through,
you just have to wonder
why it is that some people
have to go through
what they have to go through
while others seem to get
an easier roll of the dice…
for someone who is as scarred
and yet as caring, loving, strong,
full of life and purpose as my Dad
has always been throughout his life,
I do not think that it is uncalled for
to ask whomever or whatever is listening
to help my Dad in any way that they can
so that he can continue to be
the lion of his pride that he has always been.

My Poem “Cap It Off”

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

For centuries
all types of headwear
has been worn in order
to display and to demonstrate
a particular way of life,
or a belief system
that certain people subscribe to:
big hats, small hats, tall hats,
short hats – and certain hats,
over time, were worn to signify
and to advertise the social standing
that a person had in a society…
in the United Kingdom, for example,
the vast majority of the members
of the aristocracy wore black hats
that towered above them –
while those who lived their lives
and made a living through hard labour,
long hours, and for the minimum of wages
often were observed wearing flat-caps
of different woven threads of material
and designs of fabric,
and some could often be wearing hats
with hidden surprises just waiting
to be revealed from underneath their peaks.

Hats have also been worn
as somewhat of a fashion statement,
and for some people hats are
a vital staple of a person’s identity
and they personify who they are –
take a Stetson, for example:
because who would a cowboy be
without their cowboy hat?
And who would “The Great Detective”
Sherlock Holmes be if he never wore
his characteristic Deerstalker?

Hats, caps, headwear as a whole –
be it symbolic, religious,
logo embossed, or just plain –
have never been more popular
nor more worn by every facet
of human society,
in every country on Earth,
and I see no end in sight
for the practice of wearing a hat:
because for a great many people
hats are how people “put a cap on”
a particular look that they like
in order to preserve a tradition
that could just as easily be
relegated to being a thing of the past.

My Poem “The Heart of A Family”

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There are some things in this life
that cannot be predicted…
there are moments in our lives
that we never want to see repeated…
there are some things and some people
that we all sometimes take for granted…
there are truly terror-inducing,
fear-filled, horrifying and shocking
things that happen to fathers,
to brothers, to sisters, to mothers –
to members of a family –
that have the power of a lightning-bolt,
the gravity of a star, and the explosive
impact of a bomb being detonated
to bring people to their knees.

When terror and tragedy strike
time is always of the essence…
when there is the fear that
someone could lose their life
every action of every second is precious…
when someone’s heart stops beating
the split-second instincts
of a stranger could mean everything…
when a chaotic event takes place
the present and the future
of a person’s life can depend upon
so many disaparate pieces of a puzzle
coming together, to work together,
to give something to someone else:
to restart a person’s heart,
to breathe life back into the lungs of someone, in my opinion,
is nothing short of a miracle,
because giving the gift of life,
so that someone may carry on
living and breathing once again,
is truly incredible and phenomenal in every way.

So many things run through a person’s mind
when they hear that something
out of their control has happened
to someone that they love…
so many different scenarios
are considered and so many
things are thrown into the air
in order to find out who or what
was to blame for what happened,
and for what mostly could not have been foreseen;
however, ultimately, the truth about every one of us is that
no one is untouchable,
everybody is vulnerable –
and when the life of somebody
who is important to a group of people
is threatened in some way
it becomes greatly apparent
whom it is who stands, sustains,
and is the driving force
at the heart of a family.

Dedicated to my Dad
My Dad

My Poem “Between Sunrise and Sunset’

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

On Tuesday, September 11th, 2001,
the eyes of almost everyone on Earth
became fixed upon their television screens
which were showing the shocking
and horrific scenes that were being
played out in the land of the free,
the home of the brave –
and the population of the world,
especially the people of the
United States of America,
have not forgotten, nor will ever forget,
where they were and what they were
doing on the day that the two towers
of the World Trade Center,
in New York City, were attacked from above
and tragically fell to the ground
taking the lives of everybody within them.

Tuesday, September 11th, 2001,
is a day, a month, a year,
seared into my memory
and I will never forget the tears
that fell from my eyes
when I watched the last
moments of life of people whose
only crime was to wake up that morning
and wish to better their lives
and the lives of other people –
and from that day on,
and forevermore, we – the world –
have not been the same,
and every day we mourn.

Whenever we witness something devastating –
like the terrorists attacks of
Tuesday, September 11th, 2001 –
everybody always wishes
that they could turn back the clock
and change history in some way
so that all the people who were lost
could be brought back to life –
but, unfortunately, the terrorist
attacks that happened on
the East Coast of the United States
of America, on September 11th, 2001,
will forever leave a scar
of memory on all of us
who are living witnesses
to a world at war with itself;
however, I still remain hopeful
that one day the entire world
will wake up to the fact
that the true meaning of life is to love
and everybody deserves the gift
to be able to live in a world without fear
in which everybody is able
to do the best that they can,
to live freely, to live happily,
and to make the most
every moment of every day
between the first light of sunrise
and the last light of sunset.

Never forget.

Happy National Read A Book Day!

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Happy National Read A Book Day! I happen to have written and had published 9 books in paperback and as an ebook – ranging from poetry to short-stories to short novels – and every time I have it has been a phenomenally fulfilling and a thrilling experience; however, nothing could ever compare to the experience of writing, reading, living, dreaming, and breathing every moment of every word of every poem or sentence that has made it into one of my books! Books of all kinds are like children – and they can change you and the way that you look at the world, as well as yourself… and some books can also change the way that you live your life, and the way that you read some books can change over time – depending on where and when you are in your life. Books are doorways through time and space… books are gateways to different worlds… books can talk to the person within each of us and compel us to do the impossible… books are incredible, books are vital, books are phenomenal, books are magical! I would implore everybody who is anybody to daily pick up a book and read something they have never read before – or perhaps something they have read a million times before – and especially today on National Read A Book Day, and it would be amazing if one of the books that people chose to pick up and read were one written by my own hand and with the power of my own limitless imagination! All my books are available online from Amazon, Barnes&Noble, and The Book Depository right now in paperback and as an ebook – so what better day than today to check one out and read the wonder of what can be found inside each and every one of them! 😊📖📚

My Poem “The Driving Force”

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

I have been inspired
by so many things
since I was a child:
television shows, films,
books, art, music, places, people –
and everything that I have
had a profound encounter with
has ultimately changed me
in some way, shape, or form;
however, like the after-effects
of a power-outage, as a result
of a bolt of lightning
from an electrical storm,
the realization and the rebooting
of my thoughts, feelings, and emotions
sometimes takes time to adapt
to such a new infusion of inspiration.

Every day I find new things to cherish
about some of the things that I know
like the back of my hand –
but that is the thing about life:
surprises can be found around every corner,
even in the places you visit
more often than most.

It can sometimes be hard to pin-point
where, when, and why something
in particular has the effect on you
that it always does –
but there is never any question
of how something so powerful
gets under your skin
and drives its presence deep within you,
because whether we want to admit it,
or not, each and every one of us
is inherently, biologically,
thin-skinned and fragile,
and easily capable of being influenced.

We are all a product and the end result
of so many influences:
our environment, our family, our friends,
our colleagues, our victories, our loses,
what we intake into our body,
what we subconsciously choose
to expose ourselves to via our senses –
and, ultimately, sometimes at the exact
same time that we are being
driven to distraction,
we can also be the driving force
propelling the thoughts, the feelings,
and the direction of other people
who we too are fueling with our gift
of attention and inspiration.