Dad

My Poem ‘Plane-spotting’

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

There are things that I remember
from when I was a kid
that are still so full of colour
and still so vivid and clear…
there are places that are forever
preserved within my memory
from when I was a child
that I can always return to
within the blink of an eye…
there are times when you think back
on your life and your memory
can play tricks on you
and you can accidentally and falsely
remember things that never really happened –
but, when I close my eyes
and I think back to being ten years-old again,
on a summer Sunday evening
just before the sun went down,
and I can see my Mum, my little-sister,
my Dad, and I can see my own face
being reflected in the rear-view mirror
of our family car as we prepare to go home
after a busy afternoon of plane-spotting.

My Dad has always been a train-spotter,
a plane-spotter, a car-driver,
and when he was younger
he was even a motorcycle-rider…
my Dad has always been a music-lover…
my Dad has always been the best father…
my Dad has always been of a lover
rather than a fighter…
I learned from a young age
that when it comes to deciding
and knowing what the best thing to do
in any given situation at any time of the day or night,
then my Dad is the one who always knows better.

Everybody who has ever met my Dad
never forgets my Dad –
my Dad has one of those faces
that hasn’t changed that much since he was a school-boy
growing up in his home-village of Coleshill…
when I was younger, as a family
we were always going to airports and air-shows
so that we could see and marvel
at the aircraft that we saw souring through the sky,
and my Dad always knew what every plane was
and he could tell you what type they were
with a single look…
going to places with my family when I was a kid
are timeless memories that I will never forget
because they mean so much to me…
I will always remember those moments
when I would look at my Dad
and I could see the genuine joy
that he took from being with his family
who he loved while he did something
that he had been doing since he was a kid…
whenever I see a plane taking off now,
or whenever I am flying on a plane as a passenger,
I always flash-back to when I was a boy
when my Dad would pack up the car
and we as a family would all go
plane-spotting.

My Poem ‘D.W.G.H.’

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

My Dad is the most caring
the most loving,
the most hard-working,
the most passionate,
the most incredible
and the most amazing man,
father, hero, Dad,
in the entire world!
My Dad has seen things,
my Dad has experienced things,
my Dad knows things
that I could never know,
or ever truly describe or put into words.
My Dad is a man of impeccable instincts;
my Dad is a man who is infinitely gifted;
my Dad is a man with the biggest
and the most open heart;
my Dad has a smile, a face,
and the bluest eyes I have ever seen in my life –
and within his eyes, many times,
I have seen a spirit and a light
that ever since I was a boy
has kept me from being afraid of the dark.

My Dad has been my greatest
inspiration and motivation
to never give up, to never stop hoping,
and to never stop working hard
at keeping what matters the most;
my Dad is not like any-other father in the world –
not only does he have a one-of-a-kind mind,
and an endless devotion and love for my Mum,
but he is also an amazing cook
and he is a master of a Sunday roast.

My Dad has taught me many things,
but I know that I could never match-up
to his shining example
of what it takes to be a great man;
my Dad has shed blood, sweat,
and tears for his family –
however, no matter all that he has been through,
he can still wear a smile
and can be to all who meet him
a wonderful and shining inspiration.

If it were not for my Dad
then I do not know who I,
nor anybody in my immediate family, would be;
if it were not for my Dad
then I would not be here –
I am the best of my father,
and my father is who brings out the best in me;
my Dad’s voice, my Dad’s laugh, brings me joy,
and my Dad’s strength is unbelievably inspiring;
my Dad has never given up
and would never give up on anything
that fills his life with happiness and joy –
and I too have been blessed with the same spark
within my soul, that flashes brighter than lightning.

There is so much more
that I could say about my amazing Dad –
but, for now, I just want to say
that I love him very much, and I want to wish
a very happy father’s day to him,
to my Dad – David William George Hastings.

DWGH-fathersdaypoem

My Poem ‘My Loving Parents’

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

My Mum and Dad’s love for each-other
is the most beautiful sight I have ever seen;
my Mum and Dad’s bond is the strongest
that has ever been;
my Mum and Dad would do anything for each other,
no matter what;
my Mum and Dad were always meant to be together,
and you can tell that fact
any time that you are with them
and you see them together –
they are not only each-other’s soulmates,
they are each other’s best friends,
who have both been through a lot.

Throughout my entire life,
I have been a witness to magic;
since I was a child,
every day I have seen my Mum and my Dad
go above and beyond for their children;
in my opinion, no other two people
who have ever been in love with each other
have given as much for one-another
as my parents have –
it is in both of their DNA to give;
to have parents who are as amazing
and as incredible in every way as mine are,
I know with all that I am
that there has never been a more blessed
or a more fortunate son.

I am the best of two hearts
eternally bound to each-other;
I am the art of two artists
whose life and love still lives
and will forever continue
to course through my veins;
I am in constant awe
at what my mother would do for my father,
and what my father would do for my mother;
I am sometimes lost for words
when trying to describe
the truly wonderful and heroic two people
who I am proud and so lucky
to be able to call my loving parents.

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My Poem ‘One of a kind father’

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

The real and true super-man of my childhood;
the one man while growing up
who could make anything and everything happen;
the hero of great strength,
whose greatest super-power makes us who we are,
because they are a part of us,
just as we are a part of them,
and because their life-force
is literally in our blood;
the man who we look to
and imprint on from day one;
our Dad, our father,
our sun who shines down and smiles upon us
when we are feeling sad;
our life-giving, caring, amazing, creator
who for us there could be no other.

Birthdays, holidays, unmissable moments
that would not be the same
without that one special person;
first words, first voices, first steps
that may never have been
without the man who watched over us,
and who called to us,
and who encouraged us to never stop;
mornings, nights, early rises, bedtimes
that always would have been missing
something and someone important
if we had not have had them;
the constant giant
who we all looked to
as our all-powerful god.

My Dad loves his family,
and my family love my Dad;
if it were not for my Dad
I would not be the man that I am,
nor would I have had the extraordinary,
happy, love-filled life
that I have been blessed to have had;
my father and my mother
were always fated to meet each other
and to be together,
and while there is blood in my veins,
and air in my lungs,
I will always feel the spirit, the love,
and I will always speak the name
of the best man in my life,
who will be with me everyday…
and that man is my incredible, wonderful,
amazing, one of a kind, father.

My Poem ‘Hard Rain’

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

It’s never too late
to learn something new;
it’s never going to be the case
that you are going to know
everything about everyone;
it is at times when you are not
expecting anything to come to light
that you invariably learn something
you never knew;
it’s never too late to ask questions
and get answers that make your thoughts
just want to run and run.

Music has always been important to me,
and to my family, for as long as I can remember,
since long before I was even born;
music has always had the key
to unlock the door into our soul;
however, it wasn’t until just recently
that I learned from my Dad
that he had once been a ‘roadie’
in the 1970’s for a rock-band,
and I am still enthralled and in awe
because (yet again) my Dad has surprised me
with an interesting and inspiring insight into him
which I love to learn and hear stories
told to me about –
because, to me, it just makes my Dad even more cool.

Hearing my Dad tell me how he used to help
transport and set up the equipment
of the band ‘Hard Rain’ –
a group that I had never heard of before –
I was inspired within seconds;
hearing my Dad reflect and remember
times that he enjoyed, as always,
brought a smile to my face
and made me feel emotions
that no one else could possibly understand.

As a child, I remember us as a family
having musical instruments around us:
a recorder, a keyboard, an organ,
an electric-guitar, an acoustic-guitar,
that my Dad used to play and strum
a song and a tune exquisitely with –
even now, my Dad knows more songs
and can sing every word of his favourite band,
‘The Beatles’, and he knows the deep meaning
within those magical lyrics,
and he has been moved by them
on more than one occasion – as have I –
and each song, and each piece of music,
I know when I hear them now,
are nothing short of amazing and incredible poetry.

I have always wanted to play an instrument,
write a song, come up with a melody,
bring my words and my inner music to life,
so that the whole world can hear it;
I have always wanted to take my poetry
and make my imagination and words
shine like no other poet;
I have always wanted to give something
back to people, and the world,
for reasons that I can’t fully explain;
I have always been someone
with a great eye and a great ear,
and, to me, seeing and hearing
as much as can be seen and heard
is a gift we are all born with –
and if you are someone creative,
or if you are someone who just
wants to be a part of something in some way,
then I can honestly say
that I too am there with you
in that want to be touched and changed,
and to remain connected to,
what makes my heart beat so long and so thunderous
as the music of hard rain.

My Poem ‘David’s Magic’

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

There once was a little boy called “David”,
who grew up in a small village
in the middle of the great forests
and the green fields of the English countryside,
who was the best son any father and mother could ever ask for,
who was always laughing, joking, smiling,
who had the most imaginative, amazing, and unburdened mind,
who loved his family so much, and who felt so lucky
to have the loving family he had, and the happiest of lives.

David’s enthusiasm for life extended in every direction,
and his passion for things, and for people’s well-being,
was one of great depth;
David’s natural caring nature was amazing to behold,
and his energy was like the locomotives that he loved
and looked at in-awe – unstoppable;
but David was never one to ever be seen out of breath.

On a weekend morning,
as the sun was rising over the nearby Chelmsley Woods,
David could be seen riding his bike with his basket on the front,
delivering loaves of freshly baked bread from the local bakery
to the houses of his home village – come rain, or shine;
David was well known to all who lived in this idyllic English hamlet,
where you literally did not have to at any time
think about locking any of the doors of your house,
but David was so trusting, and trusted by all who knew him,
anybody who you might ask to describe David in one sentence,
would most likely use the same four words, in the same order:
one of a kind.

David loved trains;
David adored planes;
David bred racing pigeons in his backyard;
David liked helping both his Mum and his Dad,
and anybody in need;
and if he truly wanted something
he wasn’t afraid to put every effort
into attaining what he wanted by working hard.

David was smart;
David was handsome, and charming;
David was exceptionally gifted at art;
David was a phenomenal ornithologist,
and he could identify any bird in any tree, or in any bush,
simply from hearing two seconds of their calling.

David was a self-taught boy, and young man,
and he learned things at lightning-speed,
and he had to learn how to cope with everything
that life can throw at a person, from a young age;
David lost his parents when he was still a boy –
but, even to this day, he has never thought that tragedy and loss
should ever be thought of as a lasting cage.

David was a boy who treasured life,
and who was always seizing every moment,
and making the most of every second;
David was a popular boy,
who had lots of friends,
and when possible he was always having fun:
whether he was helping someone,
putting together and painting Airfix models of airplanes,
or making something amazing out of wood;
there was always the opinion of David
that if anything could be done,
then David could, and David most definitely would.

As David grew up, he would see, hear, and do things,
and go places many of us would never contemplate,
and can’t imagine –
growing up, David would try his hand, and be the best at:
being a mechanic, a garage owner, an underground coal miner,
a JCB driver, a truck driver, an inventor, a designer,
a builder, a logger, a home-mover, the best husband,
and the most incredible father, and hero ever;
and even as an adult with children,
people still remember, talk fondly about,
think with warm memories, recollections, and feelings,
in their heart, for David;
and as his son, and as one of his lucky and loving children,
who have the happy privilege and honour, every day
to look into the blue eyes of our Dad in person, or in a photo,
there isn’t a second that goes by when I do not feel
eternal wonder and love of my Dad’s spirit,
my Dad’s smile, my Dad’s life, my Dad,
David’s, unbelievable magic.

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