They walk alone…
they walk a line…
it has never interested them
to be one of a crowd…
it has never been a dream of theirs
to be like everybody else…
they don’t need much in their life,
except their family and their loves-ones…
they don’t think like everyone else
around them – they never have, they never will –
because they are not supposed to…
like most people, they are content
doing what they love to do
in the place where they always feel
the most comfortable and content…
they don’t need to be constantly moving on
to the thing that is the most new…
they learn from the events of the past…
they have hope for the future –
but, more than anything,
they try to live and breath,
to embrace and to be inspired
by everything and every moment
that is their present…
most of the time they swim alone
through the ocean of life,
like a Great White…
everyday they are like a ghost-writer
writing a silent story…
every time they see people
wearing clothes and walking around
to the same beat, and just swimming along
with other people who all look exactly alike,
they sometimes feel like they are surrounded
by an army of clones…
when they see people taking advantage
of other people, they feel like
they want to explode…
they, like many others, have never believed
in the idea of an undefeatable-enemy…
the force of life teaches us all
that sometimes things change –
and when they do, after which,
nothing will ever be the same…
life is like a song, a story, a play,
a movie, a poem – it has a beginning,
it has a middle, it has an end…
however, unlike a story
with a deliberate structure of acts,
life and plans can change
their form by the second…
life is a cycle –
and it begins and it ends at the same place,
and in that way we are all characters
and pieces on the board
of the most epic of all board-games…
they are a patient person…
they have seen what happens to those
who do not listen to their instincts
before they leap into something
without even a thought –
but, they know that
there are times when you have to
let your heart be your guide,
and you need to close your eyes,
and take a running-jump…
because life is about finding balance –
most of the time it is not about
being the best at something,
or being the one with the loudest voice,
or the biggest gun –
to them, we are all a part of this world
to be our parents’ daughter or son…
to be uniquely ourselves…
to be one of the “rogue ones”.
My Poem ‘Star Power’
A star in the sky…
a light to guide you…
a religion to live by…
a god and a role-model to look up to…
when you need an answer,
when you need inspiration,
when you need a flare of hope
to wipe away your fears,
when you need a destination…
distant lights…
far-away, heavenly…
people and places who call on others
to come to them and follow in their footsteps…
someone, something,
that you can’t find anywhere else on Earth…
someone, somewhere,
with whom you might find your life’s purpose…
someone, something,
who transcends an idea
that you might have previously had of a hero…
someone, somewhere,
to whom you have always been meant to know…
some people know the following that they have
and the interest that there is in them…
some people who are influential
in another person’s life
carry on doing what they do
oblivious of who they are…
some people talk to millions of people
every time they tap at a keyboard key
or write a word with a pen…
some people have a muted-voice,
but what they have to say
can journey straight into a person’s heart…
some people who are well-known the world-over,
and have been doing and working away
at their craft for a while
have learned, sometimes the hard way,
both the pitfalls and the beautiful things
that can come with a measure of success…
some people who are famous for doing
the thing that they love
sometimes do not get to see
the true joy that their art flowers into
within the soul of others…
some people cannot handle the attention
that is sometimes focused on them,
and they live a life of excess –
and they sometimes feel a loneliness
that they cannot express…
some people, no matter how important
and successful they are,
sometimes have to pay a price
for being so noticeable –
but, for the vast-majority of people
with a voice that their fans listen to,
there are great things that come
from having a so-called “Star power”.
My Poem ‘The Passion of The Poet’
Love… blood… passion…
an explosion, an eruption…
an over-flow of emotion…
the feeling, the energy… the electricity…
the fast-breathing, the heart-beating…
the unstoppable flow of rejuvenation…
lovers tap into it… writers write with it…
musicians use it… artists create with it…
we were all made from birth in its image…
an excitement… an enlightenment…
a wish-fulfillment…
an enjoyment and a freeing of spirit…
a belief… a faith…
a way to feel as if you are both flying
at the same time that you are sinking
beneath an ocean of crashing waves –
a timeless moment… a connection beyond touch…
a vibration like the strings
of some kind of cosmic-instrument…
an addictive rush… an unquestionable
recognizable look in the eye…
the expression on the face…
the language of the body –
the unbounded physicality…
the spark… the fire…
the unquestionable desire…
when I am writing, when I am composing a new poem –
I know it straight away,
and I know where it comes from,
because I have seen its face so many times,
but some days it is like
the kiss of an angel on my cheek
and others it is like I have been hit
squarely between the eyes by a bull…
it’s like jumping into the sea off of a pier…
it feels magical, incredible –
and just trying to describe
what I am feeling in my heart
just makes me feel it more and more…
a true expression of your heart’s desire,
when done without hesitation,
can only lead you in one direction…
when you just stop,
and listen, and you hear
that voice of inspiration,
there is only one thing
that can possibly follow:
love… blood… passion.
My Poem ‘The Afternoon Moon’
The ghostly image of the moon
still hangs in the sky
when the clock strikes noon –
and even two hours later
the moon is still there
in a cloudless sky
as blue, as beautiful, and as clear
as the world as seen through a tear…
the moon is on my left,
the sun is on my right…
the country air smells fresh…
the green fields below me
glow so bright under the sunlight,
and just being where I am
and seeing what I do feels so nice…
for the next three days,
at the same time of the day,
the moon lingered in the daylight sky –
one side covered in shadow,
and the other side a misty-white –
and every time I see it
I smile and I wonder
why I could see it so clearly,
even though it wasn’t night…
being an eternal-optimist
and a hopeful-romantic,
I saw the appearance of the moon
in the afternoon
as a sign of dreams coming true
and of good things on the horizon…
only time will tell what the moon
being out so early, or so late, means –
perhaps it does not mean
anything of importance at all…
however, I believe that things happen for a reason…
I believe that the universe gives us what we ask for…
I do not need to see the Earth spinning in space
to know that the world is always on the move…
I believe new things reveal themselves
during the changing of the seasons…
I believe every new day is a new door…
I believe there is a purpose
for every-thing and every-one…
just as I believe that I have been seeing
a sign of something every day
that I have looked up at the sky
in the afternoon and I have seen the moon.
My Poem ‘Radio’
Sometimes, some days,
I feel like a radio…
sometimes, some days,
inspiration is ready and waiting
for me to wake up –
even first thing in the morning
when I look out my bedroom window
and I see the light of the sun…
sometimes, some days, it takes me a minute
to receive and to re-tune to the right frequency –
to the universal station of inspiration
that I always listen to…
sometimes, some days, I need to download
an update to my internal, poetic,
biological operating-system,
and think in a way that I have never thought before,
and seek-out a higher-power with a question
of something that I do not yet know.
Sometimes I need to be in the right place…
sometimes I need to be in the right mood…
sometimes I need to be thinking the right thoughts,
or seeing the right face…
sometimes, to get the best and the strongest
inspiration-signal, I need to focus…
I need to close my eyes…
I need to go within myself
and touch the source of my soul…
I need to let my daydreams free
and use my gifts to turn them into words…
sometimes, when I am writing,
it is like I am solving a mystery
by following and piecing-together
a string of clues.
I write, and I express myself, noticeably differently
depending on the time of the year, the time of the day,
and the time that I spend somewhere…
sometimes what I write, and where it comes from,
is just as much of a surprise to me
as it is to those who read what I write –
sometimes I can honestly say
where a piece of inspiration comes from,
and sometimes I just don’t know…
the art of writing is first learning how to listen –
and, to me, music is a vital source of inspiration
that is beyond-compare…
sometimes, before you can give,
you first need to receive –
and sometimes the best way to do that
is to do what I do,
and to think like a radio.
My Poem ‘Standing Rock’
All ground is sacred ground…
the Earth beneath our feet
has its own identity…
the world that moves silently through space,
and its spirit, is so powerful and nurturing
that it creates its own gravity
and a near-perfect environment
for all life to thrive and live…
all that breath in the air of the planet
to which we are all bound and indebted
are expected to not only take away,
but to give back in return…
our home, this world, is the home
of countless species and forms of life –
each and every-one given from birth
the rite to exist and fulfill their destiny…
some people have learned to understand
and interpret the timeless language of nature,
and they also understand that not only
does the Earth have a spirit –
so too do the trees, the plants,
the animals, the mountains, the rivers,
the seas, the fish, the microscopic organisms
smaller than the human eye can see…
every thing with a consciousness,
with thoughts, with feelings, with emotions,
with instincts, with a reason to be,
has a reason to be alive…
even a single drop of rain adds to our planets worth…
we are all luckier than we know
to live on the planet that do…
long after all the stories of our lives
have faded to dust, the Earth will still have
a billion and more mornings and nights,
Winters and Summers, frosts and thaws,
and the world will live on –
and though humanity will have gone,
we will still be ingrained in the DNA
of our home-world, and our monuments will remain,
just as the beautiful natural-monuments of Earth
will continue to boggle the mind
of everyone who is lucky enough to see
our planet’s deepest reaches
and its breath-taking, towering,
and still-standing mountains,
and epic formations –
our most special and sacred
wonders of Earth and rock.
My Poem ‘Early’
First thing in the morning,
with the dawn of the first light of the sun,
and the sound of the first birds singing –
even when the air outdoors is cold to the touch –
for some people, at the moment that they wake up,
that first realization that they are no longer
asleep and dreaming is enough of a spark
to relight the fire of their heart,
like the flame of love…
for some, when the time and the day is early,
that is when they begin their daily story.
In the Summer-time the days feel endless…
when it is Winter and it is colder
you have to keep on the move more,
and so the days feel shorter…
in the Summer-time you feel like
you have got all the time in the world
to close your eyes, relax, and rest…
but when it is Winter you feel like
you can’t catch-up with the time
that feels like it is running away from you
like a stream of rushing water.
I am naturally an early-riser,
so waking up while it is still dark outside
is an every-day thing…
I would not be me if I did not greet
that new day with open eyes
and a wide-smile, and with hope in my heart
at what it may bring…
I have been waking up
before everybody else in my family
since I was young and my hair was blond and curly…
I have a feeling that my natural instinct
to stay awake, and to not fall straight back to sleep
after I first wake up,
is ever going to change anytime soon –
just like I am never going to stop writing poetry,
I do not think I am ever going to stop
waking up early.
My Poem ‘The Shroud of Destiny’
The shroud of destiny…
the mysterious cloak of fate…
the lasting spirit that will walk
the Earth one day with the last of humanity…
the drape of infinity as dark
as the matter that veils
the wonders of outer-space…
the personification of all life
that can be seen waiting and contemplating
before a single wick of candlelight…
the one who knows the ultimate fate of the living
and where people go when they die…
they who have no face,
but who still have a form…
they who beckon from the end of days,
and who silently warn…
I have seen them…
I have stood and looked at them,
and I have been mesmerized by them…
I have wondered what they were thinking,
and what they would say to me if they could…
they who do not move when they are in contemplation –
and yet being in their presence
and seeing the darkness that covers them is enough
to bring out so many emotions and questions…
Destiny knows me… Destiny knows us all…
Destiny knows the days gone by, and the days yet to be…
Destiny knows so much, and Destiny says so much –
without even having to say a word…
you would think that staring into Destiny
would be a frightening thing for anyone to do,
but I personally believe that Destiny
is a silent teacher with so much to teach…
Destiny too has a destiny,
and until the day comes when they see themselves
in the mirror of time
I do not think they will ever speak…
as soon as I saw Destiny for the first time
I was inspired to write about them
in the voice of my gift: poetry –
and there they will stay
and walk the spaces between my words,
and so they will shadow my footsteps,
until the day when I turn around
and I accept and I wear
the shroud of my destiny.
“Destiny is always in the dark.”
My Poem ‘Draw’
Everyone has instincts…
everybody has to learn
how to react, and when…
everyone makes links…
everybody has to learn
how to use their god-given gifts –
whether it be a gift with their mind,
with their feet, with their hands on a steering-wheel,
with their fingers on keys
or on the strings of a musical-instrument,
or by connecting their heart, soul,
and their dexterity to create a piece of art
with a brush or a pen…
inspiration sometimes comes
from the most remote and random of places –
however, true beauty, to me,
true love can only come from one face…
what draws one person to another
is sometimes hard to fathom –
most of the time it is what and who we see
upon first-sight and it is a physical-attraction;
however, there is more to life than the physical…
there is more to life than what you can see…
there is more to someone that makes them beautiful…
there is more that makes the world what it is
than could ever be believed…
some things are tangible, but most things
are felt with another kind of ‘touch’…
some things can be simplified and described,
but some of the most important things in life
no words – at least to me – could ever be enough…
one example of a boundless, spiritual,
powerful, life-changing, magic that can fill
a person’s heart, soul, mind, and body
to overflow is the most phenomenal
of all energy in the universe: love –
and once you have found ‘The One’
who gives your life meaning every day
feels as energizing as feeling a burst
of brilliant starlight from the sun above…
nobody knows what their calling will be,
nor when it will come –
but when you know it for what it is
you will feel like you are momentarily
floating free off of the ground,
it will be like gravity is no more –
and once you feel what comes next,
nothing and nobody will be able
to stop what rises from the moment
that you feel that indescribable draw.
My Poem ‘Blind Curiosity’
When the sun went down
it was like witnessing
a great eye closing…
when the daylight
faded into the darkness of twilight
it was like seeing the world
slowly fall asleep…
when the golden light shone up
instead of down
it was like watching the world
appear to start a journey
towards a state of dreaming…
when the sky was finally devoid of colour
and the stars came out to shine their light
from unfathomable distances away…
I found myself looking,
just above the horizon,
to where the sky meets the ground,
and I was drawn high above and far away,
on a flight of fantasy,
to a place within my own imagination –
but which felt more like a part of a dream
of someone divine who could create
beautiful new worlds
from the moment that they touch
the ocean of infinite dreamers
with the toes of their feet.
I always walk blindly into a dream…
I have no preconceptions
about what I might find
when I start looking deep inside…
I have always wondered
whether we could revisit a dream –
even one that we might have had
when we were children
and after we had been read a bed-time story –
and I wonder if an adult
observing a child’s thoughts
would know instantly what they mean?
I envy the playground
that every child has within their mind –
the scope of a child’s fantasy world has no limit,
and within a child’s imagination
every moment can be the instant
of an infinite number of sunrises.
The evening sky is a magical piece of heavenly art,
as the birds return to their nests,
and as the owls, the foxes, the badgers, the bats,
the wildlife of the night start to appear,
when it is dark so many things happen…
there is so much wonder, thought, love, magic,
and imagination that blooms like a flower
constantly under the light of divinity…
there is so much life in this world,
and most of it thrives at night
when the universe recites its sonnets for us to hear,
and when the dreamers of existence leap with joy
into the realms of blind curiosity.
Mark Hastings 