earth

My Poem ‘Penumbra’

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

The moment that you see the sun
darkened and obscured in any way,
takes your breath away;
the instant that the daylight fades,
your heart truly begins to race;
as the moon passes in front the sun,
the world feels colder,
the time seems later,
and everyone stops what they are doing,
because something wonderful, magical,
and undoubtedly celestial,
is about to happen.

Watching an eclipse is a special event
that everybody in their life
should hope to be witness to –
even if it only happens once,
and even if you only see it once;
being there on a clear day,
when one minute the sun is shining brightly,
and the next it is shrouded in darkness,
is something that you never forget –
because it isn’t every day
that you get to see
the celestial bodies of the universe
show the perfect timing and synchronicity
of their orbital gravity dance.

Those of us who are Earth-bound
rarely get to be at the centre of,
or be in the path of,
something profound that captivates us and reminds us
that we are a part of something bigger
than we can see, feel, be amazed by,
but can’t touch –
however, we can be touched by them;
seeing the spectacular colours of a mesmerizing aurora;
watching a total-eclipse,
or a partial-eclipse, of the sun –
everybody, anybody, everywhere, anywhere,
on the day of an eclipse,
can be left stunned, ensorcelled,
mesmerized, and humbled,
while standing in the shadow of a penumbra.

My Poem ‘Science’

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

As one cover closes,
another cover opens;
as one world freezes,
another continues to never know
the feeling of what it is like to be frozen;
as one story ends,
another adventure begins;
as a stranger becomes a friend,
another friendly acquaintance
is off to see something new
that they will declare when they see you next
that they had never seen such a thing before, or since;
as one road changes,
another connects with the one before
but simply with a change of name;
as one fire rages,
another dies until it is no more
than the after-glow of an extinguished flame.

Starts, and finishes;
beginnings, and ends;
birth, and death;
life’s phases of change and transformation;
thoughts, and wishes;
fresh air, breathing, cleansing;
right, or left;
chaos, order, belief, science;
everything in balance,
and happening for a reason,
like the variable in a perfect equation.

When things recur in nature;
when things are born, twinned with another
instead of singularly and alone;
when the present is also the past and the future,
that is when we all should take notice
with all our senses and instincts –
because it is then that we realize
that it is always better to be a designer
of your own life and style,
instead of simply being the same as someone else
and acting like a clone.

The seasons of Earth,
the names that we have given
the phases of our planet,
are never the same from one year to the next:
some winters are mild,
some winters are unbelievably harsh,
some summers are as golden as those
we always remember having when we were a child,
some summers are like being bitten hard
by a tyrannosaurus rex.
The sun continues to burn, and shine;
the water level of our rivers and lakes rise
and they fall, unexpectedly;
life is what it is,
and can never knowingly be kind, or unkind;
things happen again and again, invariably,
wonderfully, and sometimes surprisingly poetically.

Life is a continuous moment,
that our time existing in which
could be balanced on the tip of a needle;
our voices are but a whisper
in the cosmos of perfect silence,
and it is life’s precious finality
that empowers me the most,
and inspires me to the deepest of depths
and to the greatest of heights –
because once our lives are lived to their entirety,
we expire and then begin again anew,
and with another life to live and slowly reveal –
and that is the great journey,
and that is the great discovery of life,
of the universe, and the answer that follows
the equality sign posed eternally
from time in memorial by a meaning of life,
that is both a religion to believe in,
as well as the refined tried and tested
practice of a science.

My Poem ‘I Look Above’

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

Above my head,
caught in the branches of a tree,
I see a red balloon –
a former gift and token of love
from one person to another on Valentines day –
that had floated away,
so that it could be seen by me,
so that it could inspire me,
so that I could start a new poem,
while looking at it,
as I wonder where it came from,
who it used to belong to,
who bought it, and how long it will be as it is,
as it was always meant to be –
and as with most things that I witness and see,
I know that the red balloon in the tree
will only be a sight to see
that is temporary.

Above my head, I see clouds of white
that look like a frozen blanket of snow hovering in the air;
above my head, I can hear an invisible airplane –
invisible to sight but not sound,
and the unmistakable noise of travelers on their way;
above my head, there is always something
that I can look up at for hours, and simply stare;
above my head, is a dream of an endless, perfect, day.

As I look above, I remember being above –
I remember being among the clouds
and imagining the sensation of flying like a bird;
as I look above, just as when I remember looking below,
I am frequently lost for words
and in full belief and feeling
that I have all that I could ever want,
and there is nothing more to life
that I need to see or know.

I look above a lot;
I look above, because I cannot yet imagine
seeing or knowing enough;
I look above, because I am reminded
every time that there is more
to a small pin-prick of light
than there might at first appear –
just as there would be more to see
for an extraterrestrial astronomer
looking at the Earth from their observatory
and seeing only a faint blue dot.
The sky is just a veil
to many wonderful and magical things
that cannot be seen with the naked eye,
and that is one of the reasons
that I will continue to look above.

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My Poem ‘Beautiful Extremes’

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

There is more happening
every nanosecond in the universe
than we could ever conceive
in a lifetime of imagining:
there is life emerging, evolving,
taking their first steps,
communicating, aspiring,
inventing, and understanding,
brand new concepts,
leaving the atmosphere of their planet,
seeking, meeting, interacting,
inspiring, believing,
knowing that they are not
the only intelligent life in their galaxy,
on a planet orbiting around a star,
existing with a purpose,
dreaming about other beings of life and light,
who are as inconceivable to us,
because we are in the dark about them
and who they are, as they are about us –
however, no matter how different we are from each other,
and no matter how we choose to express ourselves
in our own individual ways,
one thing unites everyone and everything in the universe,
and to all but who will be there at the end of all things,
and who will see the last few seconds
before everything starts again,
the knowledge of what it is that binds us all
will for now, and most likely for a few eons to come,
remain a tantalizing, compelling, inspiring,
driving, enlightening, fascinating, exciting, mystery.

The nature of planet Earth teaches us
that life will find a way to exist and thrive
in great extremes of environment,
even in a vacuum, even in a toxic soup,
even somewhere where the temperature is so low
and so past absolute zero that most things would die,
and even somewhere where a living thing
would spontaneously-combust
because the temperature is beyond
that of the hottest fire;
why things work out for some, but not for others,
is a constant cosmic question
that does not have a simple definitive answer,
because everything revolves around circumstance
and timing, and everything finding its match –
however, the meaning of life can be found
when you find the balance between what you have
and what you desire.

Believing in what we cannot see,
imagining what is impossible to imagine,
witnessing and remembering the light of what has been,
reading and interpreting the world and it’s moments
and years, like epic words and verses of poetry,
finding infinite connection, experiencing perfection,
holding in your hands, imagining in your mind,
feeling in your soul and in your heart,
that which is made in a place, and at a time,
is a miracle of beautiful extremes.

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My Poem ‘The Shard of Hope’

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

London called, and I replied;
London is like a beautiful city from another world,
and the whole time I am there
I feel like I am on a magical ride.

I have always been drawn to inspiring places –
that is why I love going to cities,
because they are filled with so much energy, life,
and a myriad of interesting, fascinating,
fascinated, voices and faces.

London is something else, though,
and like another unbelievable city, New York City,
London is a hive of intense and magnetic activity.

Riding the Underground,
feeling the beating vibe,
while walking and traveling overground –
whether on the tube,
or going from place to place on the city streets –
London takes you and shows you things
you have been imagining and have seen in your mind
in all there grand and epic scales,
and around every corner, or on the skyline,
there is a constant gallery of treats.

Standing outside the gates of Buckingham Palace;
being next to the Houses of Parliament
when Big Ben struck two;
bowing my head while facing the Poppy-wreath flooded Cenotaph,
and remembering the fallen in silence,
as countless people walk past;
crossing Tower Bridge, and marveling at everything about it –
from the sandy colour of it’s castle-like towers,
to its suspensions of white and blue.

The biggest thrill,
and the sudden appearance that wowed me and struck me the most,
was the towering and phenomenal sight of The Shard
shooting up to the sky,
as I was standing outside the London Bridge tube station –
I truly could not believe my eyes;
when I saw it, and every time I could,
I took a chance to look at it,
and be completely lost in instances of fixation,
adoration, and gravitation.

When I reached the Tower of London,
and when I walked around its high walls,
and finally reached the place where the final pieces
of a memorial of red ceramic poppies remained to be seen
and marveled at,
I felt that I had reached the end
of my amazing London journey of discovery;
however, I also knew in my heart that that wasn’t just that.

I came to a realization, as I was looking at the sun setting
behind the city skyscrapers on the other side of the River Thames;
and as I looked at the majestic Shard against the blue and golden sky,
I knew that this time was both a beginning and end:
I realized that London, Great Britain, my home,
was, is, has been, will always be,
one of the most beautiful, gleaming, and timeless, jewels of Earth,
and one of the most important beacons of acceptance
and greatness on the globe;
I realized that London, and our world itself,
is a constant spark in the dark of the universe,
and a powerful shard of hope.

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My Poem ‘Lucky to be here’

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

Miracles are real.
Survivors are meant to survive.
Some people are strong enough
to withstand the grumbling of a world
without a scratch to feel.

Accidents happen every day in which someone dies;
however, when the same kind of accident reoccurs,
to someone else, they may unbelievably walk away without a scar,
and are able to tell others the tale
of how lucky they are to be alive.

The world can be a dangerous place,
there is no more chaotic and destructive force on Earth
than the Human race;
no one knows why or how long ago
the first domino of serendipity fell,
but the bones, cards, tiles, tickets, and stones,
that connect everything to everything,
still continue to fall,
and who will win at the end of existence’s game
no one can tell.

The reason our solar system formed and emerged
from the gaseous, rocky, and chaotic, cloud,
that orbited around our sun when it was yellow and young,
was not by chance;
the reason that Earth bloomed and became the flower of the planets,
and even gave birth to its own offspring, the moon,
is because the universe itself is in the middle
of a very fast, beautiful, and energetic, dance.

The reason human beings emerged from the ocean,
evolved, multiplied substantially,
and spread themselves around the world,
was because they had to diversify, learn, think, discover, dream,
and want to explore everywhere in order to discover
their defining nature and destiny,
and one day look and travel to the stars above
in order to forge a new link with their celestial cousins;
the reason why we are still here,
the reason why I am writing this,
and the reason you are reading this,
is because it was meant to happen –
and even now, from our actions and choices,
there will be repercussions.

I look up at the duck egg coloured blue sky sometimes,
and I think to myself ‘I have never seen anything more amazing’;
I look out at a sunset at the end of a day,
and I think, sometimes out-loud,
that I have never seen anything more breathtaking and beautiful,
and a sight that is truly worthy of a tear;
I look around at the people in my life,
and I see what connect me and keeps me alive
to enjoy the wonders of everything;
I look at myself, from time to time,
and I remember, as I look into my own eyes,
that I and countless people all around
are here for a reason –
because each of us is incredibly blessed and lucky to be here.

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.