My Poem “Five years ago today”

5 years ago today… I was a poet then and I am still a poet to this day… there was snow to be seen everywhere I looked, but I was not cold… I held up a window and a mirror for others to see into my soul… some things never change, and some things always do… I remember where I was and what I was doing five years ago, but do you? When I think back, I have not changed that much… When I look around at the world as it is now I can see and I can still remember all the things that I have seen and all the things that I have experienced that continue to mean so much. Five years goes by so fast. This is not my first retrospective flash from the past – and I know for a fact that it won't be my last. #improv #poetry #poem #onthefly #me #fiveyears #today

A post shared by Mark Hastings (@markthepoethastings) on

A little improvised poem I just wrote on the fly after looking at this picture of myself from five years ago.

Advertisements

My Poem “The Safe Place”

Everybody has that where,
everybody has that when,
everybody has that place
and that time which matters to them…
everybody has that bubble,
everybody has that parallel world,
everybody has that mirror to step through
when they want to retreat into themselves
and create a space away from the outside world…
everybody from a young age chooses somewhere –
whether it be in front of a screen,
or in between the ear-buds of a pair of headphones,
or within the pages of a book,
or interacting and sharing with others socially
over an interconnected world wide network –
that always makes them feel comfortable and at home,
and when they are there the magic that they find
is sometimes impossible to put into words…
everybody needs a refuge, everybody needs a paradise,
everybody needs a universe within themselves
where they can dream, imagine, and play-out
things that need to be explored
that could one day be brought out
and manifested into the real world
and be transformed from meta-physical
into a physical and solid totem of peace…
everybody has the key to their own place within
where they go to to feel for a short time
that feeling of euphoria that awaits us all
when we return to our own private safe place.

My Poem “Skylight”

We all need the light…
We all need the bright…
We all need the delight…
We all need the flight of imagination
that floods our sight during the daylight
or while under the shine of moonlight,
or when we have to step into the limelight,
or when there is a definite change in Fahrenheit,
or when our heart feels like a burning stick of dynamite,
or when our minds launch as if out of our body
and orbit above us as if observing us
from a great height like a satellite…
We all need the blue sky of day,
and we all need the dark sky of night…
We all need someone or something
to look up to that inspires our dreams
undeniably like the constant presence above us
and around us that is our ever-shining
and comforting skylight.

My Poem “The Long Way Round”

Some times it is good to go that extra mile…
some times it is worthwhile to go back
to where you came from…
some times it is good to revisit those places
that used to make you smile…
some times all you need is to return
to those open spaces that you will always remember
and let the winds of home
blow away the cobwebs of your memory,
and once again you can feel like you are
walking among old friends as you retrace
those steps that you made
that gave you a reason to not feel alone…
the shape of time is a sphere…
even those who feel lost
one day arrive back where their journey began
and again they feel found…
the walls that surround our heart
and our soul are crystal clear…
just as we take a step into the future
we also always take a step back into the past,
and while doing so we all always feel glad
that when given the choice to take the short and easy way
instead we chose to take our time, to smell the roses,
and see the sights along the way,
as we took the long way round.

My Poem “Dreams of the Moment”

A stream of light breaks
the dark shadows of the floor…
a dream of another life dawns upon my mind
and makes me remember mornings long ago
when I awoke far away from home for the first time
and I heard a brand new chorus
that added another dimension
to what I already knew to be
the opening notes of a new day’s call…
a passion, a dialogue, a conversation,
a nexus of mind, thought, emotion,
and art expresses itself on the page before me…
sunlight touches my face –
I can feel the sun’s rays upon the irises of my eyes,
I can feel spark’s of inspiration within my mind,
I can feel my hopes within my heart and soul
reach out and touch the heaven sent sky above me –
and I find and I capture what my pen
has desperately been driving to make
my eyes and senses see:
that life is the road and the journey
that does not end – and that though people may change
their appearance from time to time,
as nature does seasonally,
some things are dreams of the moment
that will always be.

My Poem “Some Gifts”

Some gifts we are born with…
some gifts we slowly find
as we look, listen, think, breathe,
and as we feel the song of the world
synchronize with our heart beats…
some gifts come to us in our dreams…
some gifts are such a part of us
that every day is a journey of discovery
to discover what our gifts mean…
some gifts leave us for a short time
before rising to the surface again
to take a breath and to take a look around
so that they can restart their fire of desire
like a phoenix’s flaming tail that never stops burning…
some gifts just need time to go to new places
in order for them to express themselves like never before.

Every gift has the power to renew itself –
as long as there is solid ground beneath them
to take off from and a sky of infinite possibilities
above them to keep the constellations of stars turning…
all gifts are doorways, however some gifts
are able to create things that nobody has ever experienced,
heard, felt, nor seen before.

Some days ideas come like a trickle of interconnected thoughts
and some days some gifts manifest themselves
like a tidal wave of inspiration,
or like a storm that ultimately reaches its climax
when ideas rise and fall
like the raindrops of a downpour.