everybody

My Poem ‘Christmas Time’

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

“So this is Christmas,
and what have you done…”
sang John Lennon on the radio
as I sat with my pen and open notebook,
as the sun shone through the windows
and reflected off the chrome panels
of a nearby building;
I was near an open door all the while –
but not for a second did I feel cold;
the Christmas songs kept playing,
the air was cozy,
and everybody around me
was locked in their own world;
the Christmas colours and lights
were bright and bold,
and just as I got to the end
of the first verse of my new poem
a familiar voice sang loud:
“Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!”

I sit. I stare. I blink. I smile.
I write. I think about how much
I have in common with the life of a sundial –
because I too would be nothing
without the light of the star from afar
that gives my life meaning
and endows me with all that I need
to be who I am supposed to be.

As Louis Armstrong sings
of the “trees of green”
and the “red roses too”
and the blue skies of our “wonderful world” –
I know, I see, I remember
all that he sang about
and what I too believe makes out planet
standout from any other
in the entire universe;
so often, I become both lost and overflowing
with words to describe
all that I see and all that I feel;
I do not know who I would be
if I could not write the language of my heart
on a page in connected verse of poetry.

“White Christmas” starts to play,
and instantly I am back in time
and I am imagining things that happened
so many years ago –
I remember the snow of my childhood,
I remember the happy times I spent with my family,
I remember imagining that if anybody
were to walk on the surface of the moon again
then of course I would;
I remember seeing true beauty
in fallen snowflakes
and knowing that there was more to me and to life,
and twenty years before I would ever have thought
to write anything that I would now
consider in any way poetic.

One last song plays
before I have to leave the place where I am now;
where I am going next I do not know for sure,
because I do not have a fixed plan –
however, as I think of a title
to sign-off my brand new chain of rhymes,
I decide to use the last words
of the song that I hear…
and as my poem is about the world of today,
about me, and is in itself a snap-shot of life –
this poem is about this moment,
and at this moment it is definitely
Christmas time.

Advertisement

My Poem ‘Never Rest’

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

Everybody has their own outlet;
everybody has their own place of worship;
everybody has their own way of sharing;
everybody has their own way of caring;
everybody has their own time
when they feel their most alive;
everybody has their own favourite way
of passing the time:
if I could be anywhere at this very moment,
I would love to be in a Jeep Cherokee
traveling down I-75 with the one I love
all the way to Tennessee-
listening to music from the 1980s and the 1990s,
as we enjoy every second of our drive
and the perfection of our ride.

We can all feel young as long as we want to;
we can all do the seemingly impossible;
we can all marvel at the brand new;
we can all make that life-changing call;
we can all be seen, we can all be heard,
we can all be free, we can all be
all that we say so easily with words;
we all remember, we all forget;
we all have felt a rush,
like the feeling of uplifting air
underneath the wings of a bird’s feathers;
we all at one time or another
have had to pass a test.

Life is a series of borders to be crossed;
everybody everyday wants to be happy;
a life in which ever day there are things
that you can have any second at no cost
is the one that we would all always want;
everybody has expectations
of how they would like something to be,
and then when life surprises you
from time to time in ways
that completely eclipse anything that you thought
you realize why it is important
that some things only happen once.

A great journey is made up of small
but important steps;
a happy life should be measured on smiles
and memories, not by miles or kilometers per hour;
a beautiful vision is both soul- and solar-powered;
an imagination like no other
is one that can go all day and all night
while harnessing a single powerful idea –
and at no point, until that idea has evolved
to the next level of its existence,
does the powerful mind of a dreamer ever rest.

My Poem ‘Seasoned’

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

Like the trees of an old forest,
like the face of an old man,
like the smell of an old leather jacket,
like an old song that always making
new fans of its artist or band,
I feel both young and full of life
and yet mindful and seasoned;
life has been inspiring me
since I was a child,
but now I understand
that for everything to be
there must be a reason.

When I was a child
my imagination was always my super-power;
making my dreams a reality
have gotten easier
as I have got older;
when I first began making art as a boy
my head and my heart
knew even then that
being an artist was going to be
my life-long forte:
I remember spending hours
drawing and painting
and loving every moment
that I spent making
and creating something new every day.

Art has always been a fascination
and a passion for me;
stories have always been to me
the greatest of escapes;
I have done so much,
I have thought so much,
I remember so much –
however, sometimes my memory does
on occasion compartmentalize;
I truly do not ever forget a thing,
but I admit that there are times
when I lack the gift of instant-recall –
you could say that I have a photographic memory,
but that it takes a certain stimuli
to bring back to mind
what I heard with my ears
and what I saw with my eyes.

My family has always held on to everything,
the thought of throwing anything useful
or something draped in memories away is alien to us;
I have learned over time
that everyone at times must refocus;
my family has had so much happen to it –
if most of what we had all been through
were written down one day
it would definitely be a best-seller;
like everyone, I am guilty of making mistakes
from time to time –
however, I try to not make the same mistake twice
and I endeavour always to be a fast-learner.

Everyone has a passion –
music, literature, movies,
games, traveling, dancing,
performing, chilling, cooking,
shopping, writing, photographing,
caring about the well-fair
of another living thing –
and for that passion they would do anything;
everybody has dreamed
that they could do something fantastic
and everybody is able and are capable
of performing a miracle for someone else
in their life more than once;
everyone should always be looking,
seeing, listening, hearing;
everybody should embrace time,
not fear its passing in the slightest –
because with time comes many amazing things
that can only be fully experienced
and appreciated by someone
who is seasoned.

My Poem ‘Eccentric’

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

Everybody has their own quirks of personality;
everybody has something about them
that wonderfully singles them out;
everybody has the rite
to wear the crown of their own reality;
everybody is like the weather of the world –
depending on the temperature,
depending on the colour,
depending on the time of the day, or the year,
the forces of nature
and the thoughts of everybody close by
can combine to reveal wonderful
and phenomenal personal eccentricities.

I love the eccentric;
I adore the quirky;
I love the one of a kind
that are poetic and epic;
I adore the thrill of discovering a new find;
I love the unconventional;
I adore the extraordinary;
I love the language of the true individual;
I adore an oddity.

Everybody in the world is sometimes obsessive;
everybody on the planet is sometimes compulsive;
everybody has their own version
and vision of perfection;
everybody knows how to bring an oasis of peace
to a tumultuous storm of disorder.

Life is an infinite spectrum;
free-spirited and care-free people
are a bubbling cocktail
of many infusions of taste and inspiration –
like a mirror of life
reflecting the world back on itself;
life is a never-ending exploration;
the more natural that something feels
can only be something that is good for your health.

Some people thrive when in the spotlight;
some people would rather live in the shade;
some people are secret masters of life;
some people just want to heal the world
one person at a time –
even if the only thing that they can offer
is a smile to anyone and everyone
who needs one every single day.

There are some people
who like formality and predictability,
over improbability;
there are some people who act with serenity
when everybody else may have already descended
into a state of unbridled panic;
there are some people
who will never change who they are,
who will be amazing in more ways
than they will ever know,
always and indefinitely;
there are some people who are magnetic,
energetic, synergetic, kinetic, poetic,
who are in their own way prophetic –
because they are so wonderfully eccentric.

My Poem ‘The Changeling’

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

Everybody changes;
everyone has been changing
into someone else
since the day that they were born;
everybody goes through a myriad
of different faces;
everyone is a brand new dawn.

Everybody loves;
everyone cries;
everybody sometimes finds life tough;
everyone dies;
everybody has their moment to shine;
everyone sees the world slightly differently;
everybody sometimes has to cross a line;
everyone will never be you,
as you will never be everybody.

Changing is remaking;
knowledge is an endless forest;
thinking is daydreaming;
trust is a test;
interactions are fascinations;
some hello’s are also goodbyes;
reflections are misdirections;
everything is worth a try.

To care should never be thought of as a crime;
to feel should be thought of as a miracle;
to take your time should never be
thought of as a waste of time;
to miss something or someone
so much that your whole body hurts
is both hard and beautiful.

Memories replace other memories;
some people fall into shadow,
as others step into the light;
vision changes depending on the way
that you use your eyes;
stars can be blinding
when you are standing close to them,
and sometimes they are more beautiful
to look at, and to be comfortable with,
when seen from far away –
like the stars of the sky
that shine and arc through the veil
of the atmosphere at night.

Life is busy;
life can sometimes make you feel
like you are going crazy;
everyone lives different lives;
everybody has their own mind;
people should always strive
to find the thing that in all the world
to them has the power
to set off a chain-reaction
that will never stop being rejuvenating;
life is a puzzle in the making
that is amazing to those who understand
that everyone and everybody is a changeling.

My Poem ‘Good luck’

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

Everybody has their own
personal lucky charm;
everybody has something
to which they are
eternally grateful for,
and faithful to;
everybody has something
that they believe
protects them from harm;
everybody has a reason
for what they choose
and for the things that they do.

Everybody carries reminders;
everybody has a thing about them
that they are known for;
everybody is living a life
of ‘finder’s keepers’;
everybody sometimes has their doubts,
but everybody also has their own way
of assessing, testing, understanding,
and making sure.

Everybody has something
that they would not leave their home without;
everybody has their own comfort threshold
and their own comfort shroud
that protects them from the extremes
and pressures that they sometimes feel
bear down on them;
everybody has a moment
when their voice is quiet,
while their thoughts are loud;
everybody can do the best thing in the world
for someone in need, and that is to take the time
to stop, talk, and listen.

Some people who we know well
are like a good book;
some people who can make us smile
at any and all times of the day
are the true people who want the best for us,
and they are the ones above everybody else
who we should always trust;
some methods of attaining serenity
and peace in your life
are both abundant and rare –
however, you can tell them apart for who they are
with a simple feeling,
because they have a magic touch;
some people need lots of things
to complete their lives –
however, the secret to happiness
in anything that you do
is to take any and every pleasure in it,
and one day something surprising
might reveal itself to you
and hold you in good stead
for the rest of your life
and be a natural and true
charm of your good luck.

My Poem ‘Everything Flows’

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

You can’t ever repeat a moment,
we can’t ever step twice into the same stream;
you can’t ever expect the world to stay the same,
because nothing is truly permanent;
we are constantly changing,
and in time what is will become what was
and slowly flow past us, like a river of rain.

With a new day comes new memories;
with the changing of the tide,
new things come into our lives
and stay on the surface of our life’s sea;
with the changing of the seasons and the time,
the world looks slightly different –
just as when the leaves fall from the trees;
with the arrival of a new symphony
that is carried on the wind,
the world, even from space,
always looks like it has never been seen.

The universe is a continuum;
everything is in a constant cycle;
the very cells of our bodies are vibrating every second;
nothing and no one is immortal,
but everything and everyone
has their vital part to play
in the reshaping of the world, for a while.

Every form of life goes through stages;
everything has an inbuilt blue-print and memory;
every form of life throughout their lives changes faces;
everything can be inspiration for philosophy,
history, psychology, artistry,
beauty, stories, and poetry.

Everybody is constantly learning something new
that they didn’t know;
everything and everyone
all seem to be constantly on the go;
everybody is always changing their moods,
and adapting to new codes;
everything is a road,
and to get the most out of life,
and to live to the fullest,
you need to stop holding back,
and just let everything flow.

image

My Poem ‘Peach Perfect’

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

The wonderful thing about a person,
the thing that I find the most amazing, and inspiring,
is that, like a book,
you should never judge someone by their covers;
the greatest thing that I have learned about life
is that the people whom you meet,
who may have known for a while,
can surprise you at a moments notice
in ways that you can’t plan for,
and what someone is capable of,
and who they are on the inside,
you may not ever truly realize.

People are like fruit;
meeting and knowing lots of different people
is good for you;
everybody has something about them
that is beautiful;
everybody I have ever met
has been inspirational –
however some people will always
stand out from the crowd in my eyes,
because every time I think of them, or see them,
I willingly become blind,
as I bask in their light.

There are not that many people in this world
who can truly understand us –
the vast majority of people,
who look at us, and objectify us,
will never truly know us;
what we do to pay the bills
says nothing about our passions;
when we find something that we love doing,
we don’t ever want to see it rationed.

In life, we all walk a line;
inside, and to those closest to us,
our heart’s desires burn like a fire;
in life, we have to be a certain kind of someone,
most of the time;
in own space, in our own mind,
when it comes to expressing our true spectrum,
we can keep going without ever feeling tired.

I adore self-expression; I love art;
I look for individuality,
and seeing the depths of someone
is more incredible to me than I can mention;
everybody, no matter who they are,
has a heart – some may be scarred,
but it can still beat hard.

The more introverted you are,
in my opinion, the more creative you are;
the more expressive you are,
the more you can bring your hopes and dreams to life –
and, to me, that makes you akin to a star;
the more of yourself that you show and share,
says that when it comes to people valuing you
for you means more, and goes farther
and deeper than anyone can reach;
life, and people, can sometimes be deceptive;
and if I had to pick a fruit
to describe life perfectly,
it would have to be the perfect peach.

My Poem ‘New Beginnings’

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

Every day we all have to start again;
every day we all have to start over;
every day we all have to clear our vision
and readjust our lens;
every day we all have to make a cross-over.

There is no one on Earth who has never made a mistake;
there is no one in this world who has never been disappointed;
there is no one who has ever lived
who has been able to forget the moments
that their heart had cause to break;
there is no one of sound body and mind
who has not been willing at some point in their life
to do everything that they had to do
for something that they really wanted.

You cannot ever heal completely,
everybody carries a scar or two;
you cannot ever know everything
about life and people absolutely,
everybody sometimes feels like the life they live
is a slow-burning fuse.

Empires fall;
castles crumble;
relationships end;
every week there is a brand new trend.
Songs have a duration;
people have their fascinations;
crowns sometimes slip to cover the eyes of queens and kings;
nothing lasts forever,
because some things must make way for the arrival of new beginnings.