My Poem “The Angels of Sacrifice”

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

Remember the many…
Remember the brave…
Remember the lost…
Remember the scared…
Remember the tears…
Remember the cost…
Remember the courage…
Remember the men,
Remember the women,
and Remember the children
who still wear the scars of war,
the scars of chaos, the scars of confusion,
the scars of survival on the outside
and as well as those invisible scars
that they sometimes dwell
upon silently on the inside.

Always Remember why the world is
the way that it is,
and because of whom…
Remember, embrace,
and never forget the stories
of those who suffered through so much
in hope of helping to build
a brighter future for the next generation…
Remember, respect, remind,
and renew every day the gift of freedom
by never taking life for granted,
and by never forgetting all the heroes
who have sacrificed their lives
during times of war and utter darkness
and despair who soldiered on
no matter what for all the people
of every country of this fragile world.

Today, and every day,
if you are lucky enough to be able to do so,
take a moment to close your eyes,
to think, to Remember, and to appreciate
the angels in all their forms
who have walked this Earth –
whom you may have met –
who made a difference to the lives
of everybody simply by going to
where they were needed and by helping
those in the most urgent of need.

I will Remember, I will Never Forget –
and I hope that the memory
of the lost and the fallen
will always live on
in the consciousness of everybody.

Lest we forget.

My Poem “This time of the year”

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

This time of the year
should be filled with peace,
love, joy, and festivities;
however, invariably,
this time of the year
also sees the rise of feelings
and emotions that instantly
bring some people to tears.

At this time of the year
people tend to reach out
and they want to show
the people that they love
and care about just how much
they mean to them;
however, unfortunately,
not everybody who loves someone
is fortunate enough to be able
to have who they love safe and near.

At this time of the year
there are always loved ones
who are separated by a seemingly
insurmountable distance
or by a barrier between them
that keeps them apart.

At this time of the year
it is always hard to find
the words to describe
that which by their nature
transcends language, distance,
memory, and time –
because so much of what
makes life so special
for those who are fully able
to enjoy it and to cherish it
is encapsulated at certain
times of the year,
and most notably at Christmas time.

This time of the year
should be celebratory…
this time of the year
should be wonderful…
this time of the year
should be gift worthy;
however, the truth is
that this time of the year
is not everybody’s favourite
time of the year
because they may be
missing someone in particular,
because they may be
missing something that they have lost,
because they may be missing
the irreplaceable,
because they may be missing
the times when things
appeared to be easy, simple, and clear –
and that is why it is more important
than ever to be extra sensitive
to everybody you meet
at this time of the year,
because everybody is going through
uniquely personal things in their life,
and especially during the “holiday season”
that is this time of the year.

My Poem “BANG!”

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

I can smell smoke in the air –
I can smell the potent aroma
of a fire burning in the distance…
I can hear the sound of explosions
echoing from an unknown direction –
no doubt the early launches
of fireworks purchased
for Bon Fire Night, tonight –
November the Fifth,
“Guy Fawkes Night”;
however, because there is
a thick blanket of dark cloud
above my head, I cannot see
the glory of the colour
no doubt brightening the sky somewhere.

There is a fine downpour of rain
that falls upon my face
as I gaze above to see
if I can glimpse what I can hear,
what I can smell, what I can feel –
however, it seems almost impossible
to be able to see anything
beyond the clouds,
and even the light of stars
of the night-sky are unable
to penetrate through the
hovering mass of water vapour.

Then there is a break
in the thick clouds
and the twinkle of the stars
is slowly revealed,
and seemingly from out of nowhere
there is a sudden loud BANG!
at the same time that there is
an explosion of red light
that streams and stretches
down from the sky above
to fill my eyes and my mind
with wonder and a welcome
reawakening of awe –
and within no time at all
the rain storm ceases,
and the full majesty
of the constellations are exposed
in all their stunning
and magnificent
breathtaking beauty.

My Poem “Superstitious”

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

Ghosts from the past are real…
real witches were once tried
and sentenced to death
all around the world…
myths and legends of individuals
capable of doing supernatural acts
have been recorded and they have
become a part of the history
of every civilization on Earth.

Superstitions were once taken
even more seriously than they are now
and over time most societies
have assimilated certain long-held believes
into their daily lives and they still
carry some meaning to them –
like not having a house on a street
with the number thirteen,
counting the number of starlings
that people see and interpreting their
number to mean that there
are invisible forces at work,
or hesitating at the possibility
of having to cross the path of a black cat.

Certain words, certain names,
certain numbers seemingly
have a natural weight
and a significance to them
that has only grown over time,
as more people continue to believe
that certain symbols and signs
are precursors to a particular
event transpiring.

Some of the things that happen
to people are considered to be too “spooky”
to be judged as being mere coincidence:
moments like when you are thinking
about someone in particular
and then the next minute that same
person is calling you on the telephone,
or that feeling of being at the exact
right place at the exact right time
to reap the rewards of a fortune,
or when you wish for something
to happen and seemingly,
remarkably, the thing that want
comes to pass and puts a smile on your face.

“Old Wives Tales” always have
a tried and tested ring of truth to them…
carrying out a particular routine
before committing yourself
to do something
has been known to be effective
in giving someone a sense
of peace of mind…
some people have hand-on-heart
admitted to have had near-death
experiences that cannot be explained…
some people will do anything
and everything not to step on a crack
on the side-walk, or step underneath a ladder,
or look a crow in the eye
for fear that the consequences
could be deadly and hazardous to their health.

Some people could not care less about
superstitions and refer to them
as “nonsense” and “rubbish” –
however, there are still many people
who believe all that they have
ever been told since they were young
who always carry out
the necessary customs
needed to counteract the “bad luck”
that may have been triggered,
and there are people who swear
by the validity of every word
of every superstition
that they have ever heard.

My Poem “Badges”

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

There are some people
who like wearing badges,
there are some people
who like collecting badges,
and there are some people
who like some badges
over other badges
because what they symbolize
has a personal and profound
significance.

Some of the most iconic badges,
icons, logos, and catchphrases
have been passed down from
generation to generation,
from person to person,
and they have outlived others –
sometimes through reinterpretation –
because they say so much
at the same time as being as
succinctly simple as the symbol
of an arrow pointing skywards,
a cross, a star, a heart, a lightning bolt,
or the unification of multitude
of many colours.

There are some badges
that are instantly recognizable
and when they are seen to be worn
by someone in particular
there is an immediate moment of recognition and response…
there are badges that signify
a certain level of competence,
there are badges that advertise
that someone is the member
of a particular group of people,
there are badges that people
wear proudly because they
are a touchstone for experiences
that over time will continue to
mean more and more,
there are badges that people
over their lifetime know
without question
have something to do with
health, wealth, music,
or perhaps with upholding the law.

We are constantly surrounded
by timeless iconography
that has it’s own story to tell
about where it came from,
what it means, where it leads,
and if it is worn what the person
wearing it believes –
and since the time that the first
cave paintings were created
many different universal motifs
and insignias have found their way into
the collective human consciousness,
and over time those same
symbolic gestures have become
necessary ways and forms
of identification and communication
that connects individuals
with other people who also
like to wear the same shape,
colour, and clearly identifiable
and recognizable badges.

My Poem “Trekker”

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

I have always been a trekker…
whether it be through a city of stars
or across an ocean of light,
I have always allowed my thoughts,
my dreams, and my instincts
to dictate what I should do and when…
over the years I have unflinchingly
taken leaps into the unknown
and jumped instantaneously
through swirling wormholes
of many colours to places
of hope and adventure…
over my life I have looked
to the stars to guide my way –
like the seafarers of old –
and every time I saw the torches
of destiny align along the road of fate,
seemingly for me,
I never hesitated to believe
that I could follow the example
of my heroes and decide
to make a difference come what may…
I was instilled with a feeling
of hopefulness, optimism,
and a strength of spirit
and self-belief from the time
that I was a small child –
and as I grew, as I looked around,
as I observed, and as I wondered
why the universe was the way that it was
I naturally began to imagine
that I saw more than
what my eyes told me I was seeing,
and that is why when I look
at the vast darkness of space
I see an opportunity to be inspired
and not a reason to feel fear…
I enjoy reading, watching, and reliving
the stories of pathfinders,
explorers, voyagers, and those people
who have a natural inclination
to go where no one has gone before,
to do what no one has done before,
and those who find ways of achieving
the impossible simply by using
all that they have at their disposal
to start upon a quest
that should only be embarked upon
by those who are the personification
and the embodiment of a true trekker.


“Live Love and Prosper”

My Poem “The Hallowed Season”

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

The colours of autumn
are the some of the most
beautiful, rich, warm,
breathtaking, calming,
memorable, and hypnotic
of all the seasons,
and the resplendent palette
that encompasses and emphasizes
the entirety of the month
of October to December –
during which the leaves of the trees
express their beauty silently
and yet profoundly
in hues of red, brown, and gold –
which sticks with those
who observe closely all the changes
that nature goes through
during the season of Fall
when the light of the sun
seemingly shines its brightest
and speaks to every poet’s hallowed soul.

Some people wait for this
time of year all year long…
some people anticipate
all what this time of year
is known for every day…
some people have a personal connection
with the traditions, the sounds,
the tastes, and the ambience
that is ever-present
at this time of the year…
some people are sometimes
so struck by the sights
that nature puts on display
for free in these autumn months
that they are almost brought to tears.

Misty mornings are not unheard of
when walking up and down the hills
of the countryside…
the golden light of the sun
at dawn is always worth waking up
early for and should not be missed…
the red skies at dusk are some
of the most stunning and mesmerizing
spectacles that can be witnessed
of the glorious natural art
of the heavens above
as seen with the naked eye
from planet Earth…
Autumn is a truly incredible
and inspiring season that
has everything that anyone
could ever wish for to fuel
their most beautiful dreams
of what hallowed fate
hopefully awaits us all.

My Poem “Dopamine”

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

Every biological organism –
from an insect to a bird,
from a fish to a lizard,
from a dog to a human being –
is driven inextricably
by their instincts
and by the reaction
that they are genetically
predisposed to have
to certain types of stimulus:
certain smells, certain sounds,
certain tastes, certain textures,
certain frequencies,
certain configurations of facial
details, and every response
by everybody is personal
and sometimes beyond their control.

Sometimes the emotions of a typical
biological organism –
those of the loving parents
of a child, for example –
can be triggered so delicately
and yet so profoundly, instantaneously,
following the inhaling of their
new-born baby’s natural aroma,
which as a response completely
overcomes all rational thoughts
and normal actions of behaviour
that they might usually
commit themselves to
and they can be irrevocably changed,
and which only adds to the natural
parental bond that is formed
without any necessary thought.

When people fall in love with someone
whom they have just met
the immediate rise in heart-rate,
breathing, blood-pressure,
and the mist of thought
that blurs out everything and everybody
other than the one who every one
of your feelings, your senses
and your instincts are focused solely upon
are but the first indications
that someone feels a lust, a crush,
a thrust of energy that is as natural
to life as the heat and the light from the sun.

It has been proven many times
by many different experts over the years
that when people start to lose
certain natural, biological,
and psychologically sustaining,
messages, responses, filters,
and internal mechanisms that
control certain involuntary impulses
within them that people can slowly
but surely start to become slower
in how they anticipate certain things
happening and less capable of making
independent choices and decisions
that continue the natural equilibrium
of thoughts, feelings, and emotions
that make them who they are
and who they were at their prime.

Over time every form of biology
changes from one state of being
to another – sometimes as a response
to extreme environmental entropy
and the chaos of a world seemingly
at war with itself –
and just like what we feel,
what we see, what we hear,
what we think about bleeds
into everybody’s dreams,
it is hard to stop the rush,
to stop the stream,
and to temper the tide
that is the surge of dopamine.

My Poem “It Takes One to Know One”

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

From my experience,
over the course of a life
of being around music lovers,
movie lovers, storytellers,
and those who have had to live
through many things during their life,
I have slowly felt the awakening of a gift –
a gift that I believe became apparent
when I began exploring, experimenting,
and expressing my thoughts, feelings,
hopes, fears, and desires:
the ability to see and to recognise
a particular gift within somebody
who life has steered towards me
so that I may interact with them –
and because I am a poet,
and because I am naturally
a very emotional person
who is regularly emotive about
what is on his mind,
what he believes to be true,
as I quietly but openly question
what something means and whether
there is more to explore
about something, at the same time
that I am dreaming about
what is in store in the future,
and every day I believe that I see
things in people, in places,
and in ways that other people perhaps
may be temporarily incapable
of seeing and believing –
especially within themselves:
natural gifts, skills, talents, voices,
hidden and perhaps undiscovered
powers of persuasion to be able
to make people feel something
and to bring out something
from deep within them,
and in turn continue the miracle
of life that was begun when light
first shined upon the deep darkness
of space and gave rise to the first stars,
planets, and all the other multicolored
phenomena of the universe
that have been inspiring life
and which was inspired into being
once upon a time by an explosion
of creativity that continues
to bloom over and over
again within the soul of every living thing.

One of the greatest gifts someone
can give someone else
is to recognize and to inform them
that they have within them
something that needs to be shared far and wide
and with as many people as possible –
and I believe that it is the duty
of the creatively inclined
to stoke the fire of fellow artists
and to tell them to do the same
whenever they find someone
with hidden talents,
because sometimes the only person
who can recognise someone
as being gifted and special
is someone with a similar love
that beats within them
night and day like a perpetual drum –
and also because, as the old saying goes,
sometimes: “it takes one to know one.”

My Poem “Pathways”

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

In life there are many pathways
that we all have to travel down –
paths of space, paths of time,
paths of the mind that are made
by experience, by memory,
by feelings, by emotions –
that can be as solid as stone,
as tumultuous as the waves of an ocean,
as electrifying as the wires of a network,
as vital and as regenerative as the nerves
of central nervous system that
carries messages and signals
at lightning-fast speeds
throughout a human body
in order to maintain a normal
state of autonomy and self-sufficiency.

Every day pathways reveal themselves
to people who have been searching
for a route between darkness and light,
between unconsciousness and life,
between the foggy underworld of dreams
and the clarity of reality,
between adolescence and maturity,
and sometimes the steps that need to be
taken may seem alien, forced, and uncertain –
but, as is the case with most things,
the more progress that you make
the easier that it feels
to traverse the gulf between
one side of a road of choices to the other,
as long as you remember to always
look left and right along the way,
and vice versa.

Not all pathways are easy to walk down…
not all pathways are able to be found…
not all pathways have a definitive end…
not all pathways are as straight as an arrow
and more likely than not they have several
twists, turns, bumps, and bends…
not all people realize that they have
actually been on a journey throughout
their lives until they look back,
until they see, until they remember,
and until they realize that life
is the precious gift that we are all
surrounded by every day –
and that is why I believe
that people should take a greater
interest in what is going on around them,
what everybody can do to effect
the world around them,
and realize why it is necessary
for everybody around the world
to consider themselves a part of a
single ecosystem and organism
of infinite, interlinked, coexisting,
cooperative, and codependent
variables that invariably define
the fate of life on this planet
and where the nexus
and the “finish line” of everything
and everybody will be when
there is the ultimate convergence
of every single one of life’s
matrices of pathways.