art

My Poem “Vincent”

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I have just walked out
of a profound experience…
I have just walked out into the sunshine,
after living and breathing
a breathtaking love letter to
and from my favourite artist:
the one and the only,
Vincent van Gogh.

Once again I have been captivated
and I have been inspired deeply
by the art of one of the most powerful,
evocative, poetic, renowned,
and also one of the most troubled
artists the world has ever known –
who time and again never fails
to touch me on an deeply emotional level
every time I am blessed to look
at a painting of his landscapes,
at a painting of his sunflowers,
at a painting of the cafe that he
regularly frequented in Arles,
and into the eyes of the artist himself
as captured in one of the many
self-portraits that he painted.

After every experience that I have
of either being near a real life
painting by Vincent van Gogh –
as I did in a London art gallery
a few year ago;
watching a film; reading a book;
or immersing myself in a documentary
about Vincent van Gogh’s life;
reading his immortal words;
hearing his indomitable voice;
or seeing his paintings projected
high and wide, like never before,
so that people can enjoy
the incredible gift of his art,
and learn more about
the trials and the tribulations of his life,
in an experience the like of which
I have just enjoyed with so many other people,
and during which I felt as if
Vincent van Gogh was in the room
with us and his spirit had come alive
so that he may connect with everybody
who had attended this celebration
of the life, the gift, and the art
of the incredible Vincent van Gogh.

Mark The Poet – The Podcast: Episode #63

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My Poem “Pandora”

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

Being a poet, being an artist,
being a writer, being an author,
being a creator is like being
the personification of Pandora –
who in Greek mythology was the first woman,
created out of the Earth by order of Zeus,
whose name means “all gifts”,
and who was gifted a container
which she was instructed not to open
but which she one day
did indeed lift the lid of
and in doing so allowed all the “evils”
within to be released and spread across
the Earth, but was able to close the lid
quick enough to contain the blessing of hope.

When an artist creates something
they are bringing to life a gift
that is a mixture of all that they may have
experienced throughout their life,
while still retaining within them
a feeling of hope and optimism that what
they have to say and to express
will one day find the intended target
that their art was meant for.

Everybody on Earth occasionally
has this insatiable instinct to open
a box or a container that has within it
that which they do not understand,
but that which they must see
with their own eyes to satisfy
their need to know all that can be known,
just like the ever curious Pandora.

Mark The Poet – The Podcast: Episode #43

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My Poem “Strange New World”

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Every day is like a strange new world…
every day sometimes looks and feels
both similar and familiar,
and yet alien and extraordinary at the same time…
every day is like a journey into the unknown
for which we sometimes have no words…
every day sometimes feels so full of
the unexpected that we can come to
believe that we have slipped into
an existence that feels like another life.

Every day is an exploration of
the human condition…
every day we all have to venture
into the frontier of the world
that surrounds us sometimes with
no knowledge of who and what we will find…
every day can feel like a test, an exercise,
or a mission during which we all have to
make both big and small decisions…
every day can feel like a dream
or a creation of hope or fear of our mind.

We all need fantasy, just as much as
we all sometimes need a dose of reality…
we all need the wonder, the art, the joy,
the imagination, and the gift
of learning something, of seeing something,
of hearing something, and of going to somewhere
that we have never been before…
we all need to sometimes escape
within the pages to a book,
within the notes of a song,
or within the visual storytelling
of a TV show or a movie…
all that we can ask of ourselves,
especially in times when we feel like
we are living a life seemingly
beyond our control,
is to take one step at a time while we
learn how to live and to thrive
somewhere that feels like
a strange new world.

Mark The Poet – The Podcast: Episode #26

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Mark The Poet – The Podcast: Episode #17

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

Mark The Poet – The Podcast: Episode #16

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My Poem “Strum”

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

I am not exactly sure what
it was that overcame me,
but from the moment that
I first saw and I first heard
someone playing a ukulele
I was immediately entranced
and fascinated by this
stringed instrument,
that looks like a miniature guitar,
that naturally seems to have this
calming tone to it when a player
strums its cords that range G C E A…
I am not exact sure why
I was compelled to buy my D.I.Y.
ukulele from the bookstore I found it in –
so that I could leisurely learn
how to play an instrument of my own choosing?
To feel a wave of emotional connection
and a sense of fun when driving
my fingers over the four strings
that I physically tied
from the bridge to the pegs of the headstock?
I’m not sure, but that is exactly what happened:
because as soon as I began to innocently
move my fingers over the four strings
of the ukulele that I had to glue, screw, and attach all the separate
components of, I felt this instant
and emotionally charged feedback
from the sounds that I created,
and I felt a rush of instant creative inspiration.

There is something special about
making things with your own two hands…
there is something about having
a project in front of you
to put your heart and your mind to…
there is something about the visceral
connection that a lot of people feel
when they handle a piece of wood
that has been crafted into the vital
parts of an instrument…
there is something almost spiritual
about holding something
and feeling as if what you have
in your hands has its own identity,
its own story, its own voice, its own soul…
there is something wonderful about
finding something brand new
that you never could have imagined
that you would ever discover
that would give you the gift
of grasping something profound.

I have always been in awe
of those naturally gifted artists
who can pick up an instrument
and instinctually know how to play
something in such a way that they
can illicit an emotional response
from their audience and immediately
generate a continuum of connection
without even knowing that they are doing so…
I have always wanted to learn how
to play a musical instrument
and to be good enough to be able
to capture and to sustain someone’s,
anyone’s, attention, in a good way –
and hopefully not bore them to tears…
I have known some singers, some song-writers,
and some instrumentalists over my life,
and I have had many moments of feeling
this heartfelt bond with several voices,
sounds, songs – and when I write my own poetry
I attempt to write in such a way
that my words can be interpreted lyrically,
as if they were songs in and of themselves;
however, now I believe that I have found
something that I will use in the future
as an accompaniment to what I write,
and perhaps I will get inspiration for
the poetry that I will write to come
just by strumming upon the strings
of my new ukulele.

My Poem “Painting by Numbers”

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The sun shines during the day…
the sky flashes during the night…
the heat is too much for some
people to take that they have to
spend most of their time
sitting in the shade…
within the dark clouds above
storms rage and echo the unparalleled
power of nature’s electricity
that manifests itself in the form
of both light and sound,
occasionally frenetically.

The summer months are usually
defined by the colours that are
seen emanating all around…
during the summer months
people usually take their time
to seek out a particular place
that they hope, or may already know,
will be somewhere special,
memorable, hopeful, and profound.

When painting a picture of the world
that they see, some people like to use
examples of other things
to compare their vision to,
for example: when someone sees
a beautiful person who is perfect
to them in every way, they may
compare them to a flower,
such as a daisy or a rose –
and in doing so they are
knowingly, or accidentally,
speaking in the language of poetry…
art, in its infinite forms, is an expression
of an artist who wishes to give
an example of who they are,
what they are, and what drives their heart
to share the story of something,
somewhere, or someone,
so powerfully, and yet so effortlessly
as if they were painting by numbers.