My Poem ‘Luna Fortuna’

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

The moon this morning is shimmering and golden,
the moon this morning is low in the sky
and almost touching the horizon;
the moon this morning was unlike anything I had ever seen,
the moon this morning was larger than I had ever seen it before,
and was the size of a planet –
as if I had woken up and the Earth now had its own
sandy-coloured and glistening twin.

The moon this morning took my breath away;
the moon this morning instantly inspired me in so many ways;
the moon this morning was an omen;
the moon this morning was gifting me a sign of the future,
a manifestation of luck, and to me every time I think about it
I am convinced that it was telling me my fortune.

The moon this morning,
the glowing globe that shone briefly like a second sun,
was like something out of a dream;
the moon this morning that made my heart race and my imagination run,
I embraced every second that I saw it,
on this clear winter morning,
in the first week of the year, of 2015.

I could have stopped and stared at the moon this morning for hours,
even days, without my attention drifting;
however, its appearance, and its personification, in my life
left my sight in no time at all –
but not before I made a wish, and I received in return
and in reply an instant message and blessing:
I believe that the ancient and eternal goddess Fortuna
was present this morning in the form of the moon,
and I believe that the goddess of fate was looking down
on the world and on us all, to give us her favour and grace,
and her approval, and to make real our dreams,
and set us forth on the path of our destined and fated fortune.

My Poem ‘The Falcon’

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

Above my head,
soaring in the perfect, beautiful, morning, blue sky,
I see a falcon flying, hovering, floating on air,
looking, seeing, listening, hearing, feeling,
silently like a shadow, a silhouette,
passing right through the intense golden
and white light of the sun’s glare and stare.

The sight of the falcon is hypnotic;
the gift of the falcon is fantastic;
the freedom of the falcon is breathtaking;
the feeling I get from the falcon is amazing.

Watching the falcon move over the fields,
and cast a shadow over the ground below,
the spirit of the falcon looks even more incredible to behold,
because it’s colour is so dark upon the white frosty fields
that are the colour of snow.

I have always been in awe of birds,
especially “birds of prey” –
Eagles, Crows, Hawks, and in particular
the great and amazing Peregrine Falcon;
I have always felt as if I were an animal
who had reincarnated at the end of my life, in another life,
and my spirit used to be once in the body of a bird,
and I used to have feathers and wings,
and senses and instincts that were heightened and always turned on.
I have always wanted to live the life of a bird,
and fly like the wind;
I have always wanted to live free and unbounded,
and be with whom my spirit is, and has been, eternally twinned.

I envy the falcon that I see;
I empathize and I feel the beat of its heart;
I can fully imagine the exhilaration,
and how important and powerful it experiences
and feels every sensation;
I wish I had literal and physical wings,
so that I may not have to wait to go where I want to go
at any time, and fly all the time;
and if I had the choice one day about who or what
I might like to be in another future life,
I will take a second, I think, and then say
what I am thinking now:
I want to come back to life, and have the life,
and live the life of a falcon.

My Poem ‘To the dogs’

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

There is no more trusted,
nor a more loyal companion and best friend,
than man’s best friend;
there is no more attentive, comforting,
and loving, protector of a master,
than the part of the family
who loves nothing more
than to lie at the foot of your bed
and warm your feet as you sleep at night;
there is no more excited person on Earth
who could ever compare to the one
who would sit and wait for you all day long,
and want to greet you when you walk through
your home’s front door,
with an enthusiasm that feels sometimes
as if it has no end;
there is no more pure look of love
than that of your faithful family dog,
who is loyal to their owner to a fault,
and who would in a fight stand with their paws before you
and save you with every ounce of their bark and bite.

There is a bond that is bound eternally
between a dog and their human parents and friends
from the time they are a puppy;
there is a trust that is forged that is hard to break;
there is nothing gives a dog more joy
than making their master happy;
there is a beautiful connection made
when a dog is given a name by their owner,
and you can tell that after they realize
that the name that is being called in their direction
is in fact the name that has been gifted to them
from the wagging of their tail,
and it is an acceptance of identity and obedience
that cannot be faked.

A lucky child is one who grows up with a pet to feed,
to look after, to play with, to walk, and to wash –
however, the most important thing that a child learns
from having a pet is that love and loyalty are a two-way street,
and that if you show true love you will receive love back in return,
especially from our four-legged canine friends
who look at us as if we were a god;
man’s best friend can also be woman’s best friend,
and without their human best friend they too would feel sad and lost;
I still remember my family pet who I loved when I was a little boy,
who brought to my family great joy
until she fell into an everlasting sleep never to wake again from,
and in honour of ‘Jess’,
and every member of her wonderful breed and species,
this poem of mine goes out and is dedicated to the dogs.

My Poem ‘Missing Words’

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

We read in sentences, not words;
we sometimes see words that are not there,
but are meant to be there;
we sometimes hear in our mind the unheard;
we all make connections
and take leaps of logic and imagination
when trying to make sense of something
that makes us feel, think, jump with joy, and care.

We all give a part of ourselves
to what we create, read, love, and see;
we all see and sculpt shapes of the clouds in the sky
in our mind and vision that resemble things
from our hopes and dreams;
we all take trips of instinct and intuition
when thinking about what is and what could be;
we can all draw the shape of a heart and share it,
and receive it, and instantly know what it means.

Our brains and our minds are more powerful
and more capable of navigating a path than we believe,
even one that might appear treacherous and impassable;
our accumulated knowledge
is deeper and richer than buried treasure,
and we sometimes know more than we think;
our individual way of seeing hope in chaos
is something that is truly magical;
our gift of seeing things before we see them in front of us
is an unbelievably incredible source of fantastic vision
and inspiration that take us anywhere and show us anything
with a blink.

Missing words are like puzzle pieces that we fill-in silently;
missing words are like invisible bridges
that come to life naturally and give meaning and feeling,
and they capture something’s spirit, like poetry;
missing words are always found,
and they always make themselves heard –
like nature does at sunset, with the evening song of all birds;
and if and when the moment calls for it,
you and your amazing mind will instantly seek out
and reach for the right words and they will be what were once
the missing words.

My Poem ‘Away We Go’

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

I am like the future.
I am the unstoppable;
I am the indomitable;
I am the unquestionable;
I am as I have been
and always will be;
I am here; I am there;
I am the unforgettable;
I am the poet of the forest;
I am the walker of the world;
I am the observer and writer
of the wonders of every sphere;
I am the proof that there is a strength in enduring;
I am a believer and true storyteller of tales
and experiences that point to a shared destiny,
that includes, connects, and combines,
every person and every life that has ever lived,
or will be lived;
I am someone who has seen hope brighten the world,
and given someone else, and myself,
the reason to be something and someone beyond imagining;
I am someone of infinite capacity,
whose story will go on beyond this life,
and whose voice will forever echo
along with the story of the stars;
I am someone who trusts his feelings and his instincts,
and I know a good person and an amazing person when I meet them,
and I can tell by just hearing someone’s voice,
and by looking into someone’s eye,
what lies in their soul and what is important in their heart.

I am hopeful; I am human;
I have a view of the universe and of life
that will never stop being beautiful;
I have in my heart and in my life a love and a power
that I promise will burn brighter and longer
than all the days and the seasons of the sun –
however, I am not on my own in this world of mine,
I am not the only one who sees the world as I see it:
in fact, I have shared a spectacular experience
and vision with a great many of the people that I have met,
and I constantly hold on to what I know, what I feel,
and what I have seen, and what I see
when I am struck by the lightning of connection and inspiration.

There is always somewhere you have not been;
there is always things that you do not yet know;
there are things out there to be found
that not even every dreams in all eternity
could completely imagine;
there are thoughts and dreams that are so breathtaking and special
they can give you the wings to fly,
and with them we can all defy gravity and dance with nature…
and before you know it you are off doing what you only dreamed of doing;
and with nothing in our way to stop us,
it is literally a matter of away we go!

My Poem ‘Epilogue’

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

Just as the sun must set,
so too must the last chapter of a story be written and told;
just as you might look back on your life
and remember things that you would much rather forget,
so too must you never forget that things happen
as they were always meant to happen,
and nothing that feels timeless can ever be old.

You never want a journey to end,
especially when you have been having the time of your life;
you never want to reach the end of a book,
because then you know all about the story within, its conclusion,
and even if you do read it again it will never be the same;
you never want to fall asleep,
especially if your life feels so amazing and dreamlike –
because you don’t want to wake up
and perhaps find out that your world
has just been a fantastic, idyllic, paradise;
you never want to put memories of places
and people to the back of your mind –
me, personally, I would rather have a moving picture gallery
of the good times in my life all around me,
and each one mounted beautifully in a gold frame.

Like most people,
I have known the very best of times,
I have known the very worst of times –
and usually both extremes of the other
within a short space of time;
like most people,
I have made the best of everything that I could –
especially when the road ahead, and my head,
felt like they were a winter field of dense fog;
like most people, I am a poet of his time –
however, what makes me who I am
will always be something that is hard to define;
unlike most people, at the start of every new day,
I write a brand new introduction
to introduce myself to the rest of the world;
and at the end of every day and brand new night,
I dream a dream that completely captures
and reflects my entire life –
like a mirror, or like a song –
in a brand new and beautifully written epilogue.

My Poem ‘Star Stuff’

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

As the stars of the dark fade,
and the most important star in our lives rises;
as the sky’s light slowly and silently
becomes golden, beautiful, and a gorgeous masterpiece
that has been newly-made –
there is no sound, but the birds singing in their nests
and flying in the sky, and an air of calm,
and a sense of content happiness,
that to the many who are awake and taking in the same moment,
bring joy and smiles to their faces.

Our sun is like an old friend that we hear from every day;
our sun is like a guardian that wants to energize us,
and protect us, but also wants us to run with it,
and be free under its gaze and glare,
to get out there and play;
our sun makes life possible everywhere on Earth;
our sun welcomes every child on our planet,
and has done so, and will continue to,
and be the light that every baby, boy, girl,
adult of all ages, races towards,
as they did at the moment of their birth.

The sun beats within all of our hearts,
a piece of our star in our soul
is what intensifies our emotions;
when we all feel love and longing,
it is the living core of the sun
connecting to us and speaking to us,
and making us feel like it always does;
the sun is a fiery sphere that makes everything clear,
that is so close and yet so far –
but still keeps that world blessed, warm,
illuminated, and in motion.

We are all a beautiful, intricate, constellation,
and our thoughts and memories are a galaxy of moments
of light that make us who we are;
our story began not just at the moment we arrived in the world,
bu when the universe itself came into being
and exploded spectacularly into life,
and every day we all carry within us
something that was there, and lives on,
from the beginning of everything,
and each one of us is made up of and are,
and will continue to be,
the spark of rebirth and the stuff of stars.

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My Poem ‘Merry Me’

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

Life is full of surprises;
the days of the year fly by;
the best of your memories
are full of happiness and kindness;
seeing the silver-lining around every cloud
can be hard sometimes, but it is always there –
there is always hope, and you truly do not know
what is going to happen until you follow an idea,
take a chance, and, with all your heart, try.

The rising sun;
the shining moon;
the warmth of love;
the optimism of a crisp and beautiful magical blue-sky afternoon;
The sparkling and twinkling lights;
the golden star-spangled, heart-warming,
beautiful, sun-kissed, Christmas tree;
the festive feeling in the air
that surrounds everyone and makes everybody
not feel the cold touch of the winter air’s bite;
the noticeable electricity and breathtaking energy;
the communication; the connections;
the story of humanity; the magic of family;
the sharing of gifts; the feeling of togetherness
that is like a true miracle,
when it blooms from inside of you every Christmas.

Everything about this time of the year inspires me;
everything that I see, hear, and think about,
feels like a fresh start, a new beginning, another chance;
everything about this time of the year
brings out so much of the worlds beauty;
everything is a source and a reason to smile,
and fall into a constant, amazing, world of trance
at a moments glance.

At this time of the year,
and every day of the year if you can,
it is important to remember the stars of your life
that constantly shine and tell you
that everything will be fine
and all that matters is that you are OK;
at this time of the year
it is important to make time
for those who always find the time to think of you,
and who want to spend time with you,
and who want to share special moments with you –
over the phone, in an instant message,
or maybe even face to face at lunch
while enjoying a delicious carvery;
at Christmas time it is important to keep mementos
of the people who are important to you in some way;
at Christmas time it is important to think and remember
what and who always gives you a reason
to be happy, to be hopeful, to be grateful, to be merry.

My Poem ‘Thoughtfully’

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

Every day of the year,
especially at this time of the year,
it truly is the thought that counts;
every hour of every day,
especially when I am writing a new poem of poetry,
I love putting all my time, all my attention,
all my thoughts, into a gift for someone
that could even make a cold heart melt.

I enjoy buying gifts for people;
I take great pleasure in thinking about, selecting,
and giving others, presents;
I take lots of time choosing the right gift
for the right person at the right time;
I want a gift from me to be special and to be meaningful;
I like to think of myself as an expert present buyer,
and I could probably buy a great gift for someone
who I haven’t even met without regret –
and that is why I love the journey, and the discovery,
and the making of a connection by me with something
that I see with someone that I know in mind
who would really like the thing that I found to give to them –
at any time of the year, but especially for birthdays,
and at Christmas time.

I love seeing, thinking, buying, wrapping, giving,
something from me without an expectation
of anything in particular in return;
I value time, thought, gratitude,
and there is no greater gift than when your efforts are reciprocated;
I love watching and being a part of the experience
of the unwrapping of a gift,
even if it isn’t a gift being unveiled that I gave,
and sometimes just by watching the reactions of people
when they unwrap a present,
there is so much about that person –
both the sender and the receiver – that you can learn;
I love watching the widening of the eyes,
the formation of the smiles,
and the intense emotions that
you can see playing out on people’s faces.

The most meaningful and the greatest gift
that you can give someone
won’t cost you a pound, a penny, a dollar, or even a cent;
the most amazing gift is one of love and affection,
and they are free, and they are the most important.
A gift that I buy for someone,
a little piece of me and my own creativity
that I give someone means the most to me;
a present – a birthday present, a Christmas present,
a card, a message, a poem, a moment –
is its most wonderful and magical
when it is given not for the sake of it,
but intensely, personally, and thoughtfully.

My Poem ‘The Shortest Day’

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

Today is the shortest day;
tonight will be the longest night;
sunrise and sunset will happen
within no time at all of each other,
as if the entire day will begin and end
within the blink of an eye.

The time to do things and to grasp the moments
are more precious today
than they ordinarily are on a normal day;
the Winter Solstice is here –
it is not even midday,
but I can already see the fading of the day’s light.

As soon as I woke up this morning,
I had this immediate feeling that there was something
in the cold early-morning air;
as soon as I started to think cogently
my mind was instantly clear,
and as I watched the sky brighten outside my window
I could do nothing but look up
and marvel at the white clouds that met my stare.

Christmas is but a few days away;
people all over the world
are doing their last pieces of Christmas shopping;
there is an anticipation to be felt all around
that something is on its way;
everybody is filled with hopes and dreams, and genuine joy,
and there is also whispers and wishes
that perhaps soon it may even start snowing.

The air is cold;
the streets are busy;
Christmas songs are playing all around me
and filling me, the atmosphere, and everybody,
with happiness, who are sitting with me here in this cafe;
there are seasons and emotions greeting and changing
and being felt all around the world;
there is energy on the verge of being set free;
there is more than meets the eye occurring today
on the shortest day.