children

My Poem ‘V’

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

Our lives are stories
within an epic and ever-evolving,
ever-changing, ever-continuing poem
that started at the moment
that the universe began;
my own life has changed over time –
as I have grown, experienced,
thought, and felt, the world
and everybody whom I have met
has contributed into making me
who I am now at every turn;
we are more free to be who we want to be
when we are young and when we know nothing
about the need of adults to make plans;
I always knew that I had an energy
and a passion within myself –
however, it is only since I began
writing poetry and stories
that I have felt as if I were able
to allow the inspired fire
within my heart to burn.

I can still remember
the first poem I ever wrote;
I can still recall
where I was when I started
to put together the poems
and the pages and the images
of my first book;
I can still feel what it was like
when I knew that I had a gift
and that I could use words
to express my feelings
like a musician makes music
by playing notes;
I can still sit, stare,
and hold my pen and my notebook
in my hand and relive
the experience of inspirations magic touch.

Every time that I unveil
a new poetic-offspring of mine,
to me it is like seeing
the face of your own child smile
for the first time;
every time I start writing
and the words flow
and come fast like the water
of a raging-river,
the light and the energy
that binds everything together
starts to shimmer;
every time I am inspired
I can feel something inside of me
fighting to break free of me
and explode like a cannon;
every time of every writing
of a new poem is like witnessing
the golden light of an unending dawn.

I still have to pinch myself
to believe how lucky I am;
I still have to look in the mirror
and marvel at all that I have seen,
all that I have experienced,
and all that I remember from my life;
I still have to find a way every day
to use the power of what I know,
but that which other people
might not at first understand;
I still have to daily accept
the awesome feeling of pride that I feel
in myself at all that I have personally achieved
and done – especially when I flick through
and I re-read and remember
all the poems that I have written
that have been published in my books…
I still find it incredible to believe
that not only do I have one book
of my poetry and stories published –
but, in fact, instead of one,
as I write this, I am looking at the cover
of book number five.

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My Poem ‘Children of Tomorrow’

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

Children always adapt to change quicker;
learning new things to a child is always easier;
children are always asking questions
in search of answers –
sometimes even from strangers;
there is no one as braver as a child,
because to them there is no such thing as danger.

Even though I am slowly growing up
I still share the same fascination
and the same keen interest in the world
and in people as I did when I was a boy;
I can still remember who I was –
what I saw, what I thought,
what I heard, what I felt –
and when I hear a child of today
ask the same questions as I did
when I was younger it fills me with joy.

A city is like a playground to a child;
to a child all the different people
and everyone’s amazing eccentricities
are both wonderful and confusing
at varying times of a given hour;
a city is like being on a great adventure,
when a child is with their parents
and guardians, and to them
it is like being out in the wild;
to a child in a city
every skyscraper is like a magical tower.

The sights and sounds of the world
echo louder and are more profound to a child
than to the ears of an adult;
as we grow older our minds and our hearts
become filled with so many memories,
feelings, and emotions that sometimes
only serve to distract you
from seeing the wonders of the world;
adults are constantly comparing,
where as children never stop seeing,
imagining, and dreaming.

Children know what it means to be alive,
and they never waste a moment to let it show;
a child knows things that some adults have forgotten
and unfortunately no longer understand and know;
children – in body, mind, and spirit –
constantly crave to be on the go;
oh what I wouldn’t give to be a child of today
and one of the lucky children of tomorrow!

My Poem ‘An Acquired Taste’

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

After we are born,
the one thing that we crave,
without even knowing it,
is comfort, closeness, touch,
and the feeling of being held,
and we instantly form a connection
with the first face that we see
when we get over the shock
of emerging and being thrust into the world,
and we start figuring out
exactly where we are, who we are, what we can do,
and the things that matter to us most importantly.

Our initial exposure to certain things
is incredibly influential
to the person who we will grow up to be;
being a child can be harder
and more confusing than we think;
for a parent, just being there for your child is the key;
the first bonds and connections that we make
are our life-long and most important links.

As we get older, the way we think changes;
the way we react to things changes,
and the relationships that we have change also –
because life sometimes is about going through
and adapting to many different and evolving phases:
physically, emotionally, spiritually –
and the more we see and feel,
the more we question, and ask: is this real?

Everything in life is a matter of taste –
like clothes, in life, some things we grow into,
and some things we grow out of;
something that still has value to it
should never be thought of as a waste;
in life, for every one person
who spends their days looking down,
there is always someone else
who is always looking up and above.

Tastes can change, depending on the day;
tastes can switch, depending on the weather;
tastes, like most things in life,
always repeat and will always reoccur;
taste is like music that speaks to your soul
and fills your world –
and no matter what, must be played and heard.

Some people drink coffee;
some people drink tea;
some people only drink things that are natural –
like water, or fruit juice –
and never drink anything that contains any caffeine;
some people like particular brands of clothing;
some people have an obsession
with a particular type of car;
some people spend lots of time
on what they should be wearing;
some people are painfully particular;
and, to me, as long as someone’s choices
do no actual harm, I have no problem with that –
because they are the way they are,
and they are vital in showing
that life is not one way, or another,
and that existence is a universe of wonderful
and phenomenal contrast.

Some things we are born with;
some things we are born into;
every face of everyone on Earth
is as striking and as fragile as a vase;
some things we orbit around our entire life;
some things have been there in your life
since day one, even though they may seem brand new;
most things in life are unapologetically
an acquired taste.

My Poem ‘Bernadette’

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

Our mothers
are the reason why we are born;
my mum is the best
and the most wonderful of them all;
our mothers go through so much
to give us the gift of life;
my mum has never once
forgotten about her children,
and every day my mum is thinking
about those who she cares about the most –
morning, noon, and night.

Our mothers are one of a kind;
my mum cares so much,
and, like me, she always feels
what other people are feeling,
and always has someone else’s well-being
on her mind;
our mothers are a true inspiration to us;
my mum means more to me
than I could ever put into words –
but what I wish I could tell her more
is how much I love her, so much.

The connection that a child has with their parent
is life-long – no matter the time, or the distance;
mother and daughter, son and mother,
will always have an unbreakable bond.
I know my mum, and my mum knows me;
my mum was the one who took me to school when I was four;
my mum was the one who held my hand,
and told me that I would be ok, when I hurt my right knee;
my mum was, and my mum is,
the one who would be there for me after a fall –
and every day when she calls me,
I run to her just as I did
when I was still crawling as a baby
and just learning how to walk and talk.

My mum has spent her life
being the most caring person on Earth;
when my mum first met my dad,
it was a miracle of destiny and fate –
which led to the best thing
that ever have happened to me: my birth;
my mum is the most deserving person
of love, or thought, of understanding, and of respect;
my mum never asks anything from anybody,
but every day she serves up her beautiful heart,
and how amazing she is can be read all over her face.

Our mothers are whom,
if we are lucky to have them in our lives,
we will never forget;
and I want to immortalize my amazing mum
in the way of the poet –
so this poem, in name and in every way,
is dedicated to the best mother in the entire world:
my mum, Bernadette.

My Poem ‘Momentous Momentum’

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

The momentous momentum of life
means something different to everybody
who feels it and experiences it;
the breathtaking fast-paced world
can seem too intense sometimes,
especially when trying to adapt
to the constant changes that happen
that may seem impossible and as hard
as trying to dodge the oncoming flight
of a bullet from a gun;
it is only the very young who have the luxury
to not have to worry about
what is going to happen next,
and because they know no better
if they were asked by one of their friends
to jump off a cliff they would in a heartbeat;
it is only as we grow older,
and start looking back and reminiscing about the past,
do we start caring about the passage of time,
and how important all the days of your life were
when you were blessed by love, friends, family,
and the golden light of the sun.

Children have no perspective,
because most perspective is born
from the marrying together of experience and meaning;
adults have the gift of knowing right from wrong,
and yet they still make the same mistakes over and over again;
children have all the energy in the world,
they could outlast anyone in a marathon,
but because they have so much drive and passion
it is hard for them to focus on just one thing;
adults find it challenging most of the time
to simplify their thoughts and their lives,
because, more so than a child,
their thoughts are always at the mercy of their emotions.

Your life is not short,
unless you choose to shorten it;
your choices become complicated
the more that you think;
your life is supremely important,
and you are constantly making a difference
to your own life, and to other peoples lives,
even on the days when you do not think
that what you are doing
would be anyone’s definition of something exciting;
your choice to get out of bed,
to think about another person,
to do something for yourself, and for someone else,
is something that you learned at a very young age
when the thought of looking out the window,
running out the door, enjoying all the time
and moments that you didn’t even know you had,
was absolutely awe-inspiring;
and even when you think that life
could not possibly do anything anymore to surprise you,
something will happen that will be profoundly enlightening,
and it may be something akin to an eternal puzzle,
that you might spend the rest of your life deciphering.

Never be frightened of your feelings;
daily embark on a personal mission;
remember as much as you can of what you see
and the moments in which you are living;
embrace the rush of inspiration,
and take every opportunity to think outside the box,
and without even realizing it at first
you will be a part, and enjoying,
the wondrousness of life’s momentous momentum.

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My Poem ‘Heart to Heart’

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

It always feels exhilarating
to get something off your chest;
it always feels amazing to say something
that you have been meaning to say;
it always feels great to ask something of someone
that for a long time you have only had
the opportunity to guess;
it always feels liberating
to give a secret about yourself away.

Procreation, pregnancy,
the creation of new life has always intrigued me;
maintaining a legacy, passing on knowledge,
keeping a tradition alive for a new generation to carry on,
is something that truly fascinates and enthralls me.

Children learning about their family
from the stories told to them by their parents;
parents engaging with their children,
and showing interest in what they like to do,
and what they think;
children being allowed to say what they see,
and create their own picture of the world,
from a vast mosaic of pieces of life that they see,
and connecting together the fragments;
parents allowing their children to be children,
without any unneeded pressure
about who they should be too early –
in my opinion, the best gift you can give any child
is the knowledge that life itself is a teacher
and a lesson, and if you pay close attention
to what is going on around you,
and how you feel about things,
there is no knowing what you will discover
about the world, and about yourself,
and with the right knowledge
and an abundance of passion and enthusiasm
there is no knowing what might happen.

Children can only be taught so much by their teachers
and their parents, and there comes a time
in every boy and girl’s life when they realize
that they have to make a decision for themselves
with their own mind and their own reasoning,
and make a choice that might inform their entire future;
children can only be protected and held back
from the big wide world for so long,
and the moment that they realize
that they have to start paying for what they want,
every child has this worry about what to do next,
as they are engulfed by a massive wave of fear.

Every parent will tell you
that bringing up a child is not easy;
every child will tell you
that no one shines brighter in their eyes
than those who raise them, those who praise them,
and they who just by being there for them when they need them,
who make them extremely happy;
every parent will admit that providing and balancing
what a child needs with what they want can sometimes be hard;
every child, in not so many words, most of the time,
just wants to know that they are wanted,
and that they are loved,
and the best and the most amazing way
a parent and a child can show this
is to talk to each other,
and not be afraid to look into each other’s eyes,
and have a heart to heart.

My Poem ‘Marble’

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

When I was a child,
like a great many of the children at my school,
along with all of my friends,
I used to run around, play games,
pick up conkers from the base of trees,
take them home and ask my Dad
to drill a hole through it
and help me put an old shoe-lace through it;
and then the next day take my brown
and beautifully vibrant conker to school
to play a game of “conkers” with my friends,
and perfect my throw, my wrist action, and my technique –
but as a child I did not realize there was so much to it,
I just, we just, did it, and my friends and I played happily
trying to hit and win a game against each other,
in the breaks between the lessons of our school day,
and it was probably the only time that we actually stood still
when we were enjoying our recesses,
because, most of the time, like I said,
we were mostly seen running around,
and trying to catch each other in games of “tig”.

One of our other, and my favourite, school time pursuits
that my friends and I shared were “marbles”:
multicoloured glass spheres that varied in size,
but which were essentially, to my friends and I,
jewels of enjoyment and literal pearls of perfection
that we all treasured.
My favourite marble of my collection,
of must likely a hundred,
was a silvery, glistening, marble,
that was like the biggest ball bearing
you have ever seen in your life,
but which I hardly ever played a game with;
and my other favourite marble was a pot-marked obsidian,
that looked as if it had been formed in an actual volcano,
or it had fallen to Earth like a meteorite
thousands of years ago, and had strange
and mystical powers to it that would allow me to win every game
and surround me with luck wherever I went –
at least that is what I thought when I was a kid.

I am not sure if kids still play with marbles,
nor do I know what kids do with their time
and what they share with their friends, these days –
however, if I were to guess, and anecdotally I have heard,
that what they do most likely involves a screen,
and usually takes place indoors so that they can
see their screens and they are not blinded
by the reflection of the sun’s glare;
I’m not saying that just because I and my friends
used to enjoy ourselves while being outside,
and while doing things that required using
all of the things that we were born with and blessed,
that we had a happier or a more content childhood,
than those of the modern digital internet-driven age,
because I know that children still do see, look,
explore, and ask questions, and things do matter to them,
and they do care.

I think, and I have believed all my adult life,
that our lives are a work of art –
but that it is a work of art that has more in common
with the mindset of some artists rather than others,
but if you are an artist you can understand life
and the world more – because you can see and interpret
and appreciate nature and peoples instances of sparkle,
and make your own art as you see and marvel;
I like to think that a person’s life
is like a work of sculpture, that we sometimes make mistakes at
when we are sculpting, but in the end those same mistakes
make the carvings, shavings, chiseling,
individual to us and to our lives,
and that is why I believe that all of our lives
is a work of art in progress,
that is incomplete until the very end;
and the matter and material that our lives is made up of
is as tricky to make something of, and with,
and as hard sometimes, and as delicate to work with,
as marble.

My Poem ‘Foreverland

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

The stories we tell children
are incredibly important;
the traditions that we keep
are how the world works;
the tales that we children
are what they need and what they want;
the observance, the ritual,
the continuation, the spoken word,
the twilight bedtime storytelling,
to a child is like imaginary, magical,
meaningful, and real fireworks.

Retelling stories, reenacting and bringing to life
parables, fables, lessons, and legends,
in a play, or in a piece of expressive art,
teaches children early on the power
and the wonder of language and imagination;
even as an adult you will always remember the times
as a child at school when you were taking part
in an ensemble celebration
of one of the greatest gifts of any civilization:
the art of communication.

It is important that children
know about and believe in magic,
and are allowed to dream and imagine anything,
and taught that when it comes to their own potential,
and their future, nothing is impossible;
a child’s life, well-being, and happiness
stems from a constant feeling of comfort
that they must be gifted with from the day they are born;
other worlds, other ways of looking at something,
different ideas, different variations of a theme,
soothing and beautiful music
that sounds as if it is from an album of voices
and melodies from another planet,
can give children a skeleton key to anywhere in time and space,
and give children a truth and a feeling that is so special,
that is so eternal, it is fantastic.

Dreams and wishes do comes true,
but sometimes not when you expect them to;
you can do and see just as many breathtaking and beautiful,
hopeful and gorgeous, spectacles when you are awake
as well as when you are sailing away
on the winds and waves of your dreamland.
If you believe and never forget
that every person is a story in themselves
that is ever-changing, old, but also brand new,
as an adult, as a child,
you can continue to live he dream of true miracles
that comes naturally if you continue to believe
that everything – the past, the present, the future –
is a foreverland.

My Poem ‘In Need’

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

What should I write about?
What can I say?
Something that I feel?
Something that I have felt?
Something that I see?
Something that I have seen?
Something that I remember from my childhood?
Or, perhaps, something that is going on around me,
right now, today?

From where I am sitting,
I can see superheroes rising into the sky
and then falling to Earth –
well, they are in fact students
who have dressed themselves up as superheroes
for charity, and who are safely zip-wiring
in front of an audience of people, to be exact;
and even though they might not be “real” superheroes,
for what they are doing, and for the cause of Children in Need,
they are still heroes to me.

It has always fascinated me
what people will choose to do
to do something for someone else, for a good reason;
I would like to think that I too would do nearly anything
to help anybody in need –
no matter if it meant I had to leave my comfort-zone;
however, I would definitely have to think hard
about doing something extreme:
like sitting in a bathtub, almost naked,
in water that was the temperature of freezing.

People in need of something
don’t often ask for anything;
people in need sometimes don’t know
that they are in need,
because they see themselves
as living the only life in the only way that they know;
people in need are most of the time
people who already know that to them
they have everything;
people in need, who are not in need,
who make the best of what they have, and where they are,
don’t ever need to ask what they must do,
nor in what direction they must go.

Those of us who are lucky to live the life we live
are surrounded by an abundance of more than we realize;
those of us who have never truly gone without anything
are richer in ways beyond even our own dreams could supersede;
sometimes we see another person’s life,
and the way that they keep going without question,
and it really opens our eyes;
sometimes it is the responsibility of those with so much
to give whatever they can to those who don’t even know
that they are in need.

My Poem ‘Skyscraper’

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

Even when I am low,
I am always looking up;
even on my worst day,
you can always find me sitting,
standing, walking, dreaming,
somewhere with hope in my heart,
a pen, and my notebook;
even behind dark clouds, I can see the sun;
even when my head is full of confusion,
I can still smile-
because I know that in my life I have The One.

The poet, the infinite,
the chameleon of caring and compassion;
the one I have been dreaming of,
even when I was a kid
and I was picturing the most beautiful person
there could ever be in my vivid imagination.

People like me are few and far between;
people who think and care as much as I do
hide for the most part in plain sight;
people like me are rarer now than they used to be;
people like me are capable of creating and emitting
an internal fire and light.

Children are constantly looking up at everything,
and everything to them is bigger, taller,
as high as the clouds in the sky;
to a child everything has depth and meaning to it-
a child is constantly asking the best
and the most important question there is- all day, every day:
why?

I guess that I have not yet fully grown up,
because I am still asking questions and searching for answers
even when I already know what I am going to find-
I personally hope I never grow up to be someone
who is just one shade of colour, and of one mind.

I walk through and I see beauty more times in one day
than I could ever remember, or say;
I see the potential of people who may be finding it hard
to pick a direction and find their way;
I embrace rituals, music, talent, intense love, passion,
and calls from people who are just like me,
and who advertise themselves to those who see them
for who they are, as if they were a walking and talking
advertisement in a newspaper;
I see magic; I see more;
I want to receive more;
I want to give more;
I want others to know
that so much about life is undeniably epic;
I want people to know that they can see
and experience heaven on Earth,
and to do that they only need to see, meet,
and know a beautiful and inspirational person,
or to have looked at the world, far, above, below,
from one of the world’s tallest skyscrapers.