Birthday

My Poem ‘Birthmark’

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

34 years, 408 months,
1,774 weeks, 12,418 days ago,
on the 21st of April, 1981,
a little boy was born
and two of the most wonderful
and amazing parents
anyone could ask for
were blessed with a son –
that was the day
that I arrived in the world,
and that was when the tapestry of my life
slowly began to unfurl.

Mark James Hastings,
that is the name that I was given at birth
and that is who I have been
since it was printed for all time
on my birth certificate;
son, brother, friend,
wanderer, wonderer,
dreamer, hard-worker,
and 99.9 percent of the time
a lover of life and a writer
in the form of a poet.

People are always telling me
that I don’t look my age;
people are always asking me
what my secret is to having
an old soul inside someone
with such a young face;
people ask me all the time
where I get my ideas from
when I am writing,
and my response to that question
is one word: life –
because that is the epic adventure
that is eternally and limitlessly
exciting, enlightening, and inspiring.

I have flashes of memories of my childhood
that regularly come back to me;
I have emotions of experiences from my life
that daily make me smile and make me cry;
I have mental and physical photos
that I look at with glee;
I have questions that I ask
that begin who…? what…? where…?
when…? how…? why…?
But I will always know and remember
what is important and I will continue
to spread the word about what I have learned
in my life, and sometimes I secretly wish
that I could replay certain special moments
that I have had, even though I know
life is meant to be so that I can’t.

Today is my birthday;
today is a day that is close to my heart;
today is a day when I have so much to say;
today is always the day when I think back
and I talk to my younger self,
and even at the moment that I am born
I visualize myself in the mind
of my infant-self and I leave myself
a message and a question that has no end
that I know I will carry my whole life –
like a defining and indelible birthmark.

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My Poem ‘Happy Birthday!’

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

Every day of every month of every year,
today, yesterday, tomorrow, last week, next week,
before you know it, it is someone’s birthday,
it will be your birthday;
today may even be the birthday of someone you know;
today might even be your birthday,
and I might be the first person to wish you
a happy birthday – unfortunately not in person
as I would always prefer doing,
but in the form of this poem;
and as my gift to you, I happily give you this poem,
and a few reasons why you are amazing,
and just my kind of person;
and I want to show you this,
and allow you to understand why you are very important
in so many ways, in my way.
You found this poem, you found me,
for a reason, most importantly
so that I could wish you a happy birthday –
but you also came to this place and this time
and were fated to be here,
listening to me talking to you,
reading what I want to say to you,
long before I even began writing this rhyme.
You and I share something in common, many of us do;
we all have the gift of sharing
more in common with a few,
and people who you may not know personally,
but in a way they know themselves
so they also know a part of you too;
you and I both have a day when people who know us,
who like us, who remember us,
who value our existence and our presence,
choose to think of us, and do something for us,
that is precious, and it may be something
that they want eagerly to do and to say;
we all, we both, may never meet –
however, it would please me no end,
and it would make me eternally happy,
to think that one day, today,
someone, you who are reading this poem
that I wrote for you,
whether today is the anniversary of your birth, or not,
are reading this poem,
and I would like to wish you,
especially if today is your day,
from me, a very happy birthday!

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.