So often in my life
I have been somewhere,
with someone, as well as alone,
when I have immediately understood
that I was witnessing something
that to me looked and felt extraordinary
in some way, shape, or form -
however, it was not until I became a poet
that I knew I had the skill set
to be able to put into words
and paint a picture with language
exactly what something in particular,
or someone in particular,
meant to me at a particular moment in time…
as time has gone by, some of the words
that I once used to describe something,
or someone, that seemed instantly amazing to me
have faded from memory -
like a photograph that has been
exposed to sunlight for too long -
and I have had to contend with
the fact that nothing remains
as they used to be forever,
because nature has a way of teaching all of us
that everything and everyone
has a purpose, a meaning,
and a reason for why they should be treated
as if it they are something unrepeatable,
unique, and a treasure like that of a rare find…
my heart has never ceased to want to
allow itself to live and breathe alongside
those of other likeminded souls,
but time and time again
my heart has been broken
and has had to repair itself
because the intentions of others were able
to override my own expectations and instincts
and lead me almost over a cliff…
my gift and my connection
to the universal muse has been able to
give me visions and dreams of places,
and my interpretation of the sound
of the orchestra of the cosmos
has allowed me to understand my place
in the grand scheme of things
when it comes to the reason why I am here -
and I must have had close to a million moments
in my time when I have seen something,
heard something, felt something,
and automatically picked up the means
to be able to carry out my destiny:
my innate ability to be able to
be witness to something and know
immediately in what way
I am going to capture it.
experiences
My Poem “Big Days”
Over the course of our lives,
each and every one of us
have days of significance
that we know will have an impact on
us
and will influence us
in ways that we may not know
until a long time after the fact:
our first day of school;
the first time we fall in love;
our first day of college or university;
the first time our heart is broken;
our first day at our first job;
the first time we lose someone close to us;
our first day behind the wheel of our first car;
the first time we find someone
we want to spend the rest of our lives with;
the first time we look into the eyes of our first child
and we see the most perfect thing
that we have ever seen -
and after every instance that we find ourselves
at a moment that feels
special and life-changing,
there are never enough words
capable of expressing just how much
they mean to us…
as we grow and as we learn who we are,
what we want to do,
and where we want to be,
we all feel as if something
or someone is whispering in our ear
and telling us that the path
that we have embarked upon
will be full twist and turns,
ups and downs -
but along the way certain pieces
of the puzzle of our lives
will fall into place and reveal a hint to the secret,
as well as an answer to the question
that everybody finds themselves asking:
“Who am I? And where am I going?”
Over the course of our lives,
as weeks turn into months,
as months turn into years,
as we transition from youth to old age,
everybody experiences the sensation of time
speeding up, flashing before our eyes,
and almost leaving us all in a daze -
because there are so many things that happen,
there are so many first times
and there are so many last times
that we all have throughout our lives
that we never forget about,
because they remind us of who we are,
where we were, and how much of our lives
we have seen change
because of a series of important,
and always necessary, “big days”.
My Poem “Writer’s Blood”
There are always things
that we want to talk about...
there are always things
that we want to keep to ourselves...
there are always fragments
of the past that return
and then are gone again
in the snap of a finger...
there are always people
who you want to forget about
but who come to mind
whenever we are alone
and wondering about life.
Within every moment of time
we all experience something
different and personal...
within every relationship
we all experience things that are both
wonderful and yet temporary...
within every day of our lives
we all learn from what came before -
even though we are still capable
of repeating the same mistakes of the past...
within every voice that we hear,
within every gaze that we share,
within every touch that we feel,
we all experience a transference
of understanding that may
take some time to fully
integrate itself into our psyche.
So much of life is remembered,
so much of life is forgotten...
only so much of who people are,
who people were,
can be captured physically
by using words and art -
because other people always want
to add their own ideas
of what made something
and what made someone
what they were...
so much of the world
has been remade
by humanity and by Earth itself
that there is no longer
an accurate representation
of what and how things used to be...
only so much can be retained -
but that is the sort of challenge
an artist lives for:
to make something
captured by their senses
endure long into the future,
to make something
that people genuinely love...
everything that we all live through
leaves a trace of itself -
just as everyone and everything
that once served as a source of inspiration
lives on within a writer's blood.
Short story: “The Man in the Mirror” (2018) by Mark Hastings
Episode #18: “The Mark The Poet Experience” – Recent Poetry
My Poem “Music/Food”
Just like the ingredients
that all combine to make
a meal look, smell, and taste
the way that it is supposed to,
a piece of music or a song
is also a multi-layered mixture
of individual components
that all harmonize to become
something greater that the sum of their parts –
as they are played by those players
capable of synchronising the gift within them
with the instruments that they have at their disposal…
the art of making a melody of music
that has a distinctive voice of its own,
that is immediately recognisable,
even after the first morsel
of ear candy has been heard,
is exactly like the signature of a dish
prepared by someone for
breakfast, lunch, or dinner –
because food, like music,
leaves an indelible imprint on all of us
that is always profoundly memorable.
Both food and music are both a key
as well as a gateway to memories
and experiences that may have become
compartmentalised by us over time –
but there is no denying how both
a song, and perhaps something
that you may not have tasted for years,
can have the instant power
to turn the gears of our minds
back to a particular place and a time…
food is sustenance for the body,
music is sustenance for the mind –
and when combined together,
while dining within a restaurant
or in a cafe, there is no estimating
the flood of endorphins that can rise
within our thoughts which can drive our emotions
in ways akin to a tsunami of waves
that have the ability to resurface
moments of merriment so meaningful to us
that they can make lost artifacts
of our consciousness once again easy to find.
Both eating food and listening to music,
to some people, can be like having
a spiritual experience that feeds
and rejuvenates something within them
that goes beyond the physical and the biological…
consuming certain legal stimulants,
such as chocolate or caffeine,
that have the ability to influence
the speed that our heart beats
and the way that we feel,
can affect us in the same way that music
can make us all involuntarily
raise our arms, close our eyes,
move our feet and dance around a room –
especially if the song that we hear
is one of our favourite tunes
that always has the effect of making us move
as if we are being compelled by a spirit
that we never want to be free of
that always takes us all to a place that feels
out of this world and utterly phenomenonal.
My Poem “Escapism”
Reality is tangible, and yet there are times
when reality can feel absolutely unbelievable…
the real world is sometimes managible,
the real world is sometimes even palatable –
but occasionally the “real world” can
at times feel too much to handle.
Reality is physical and undoubtedly
it can at times feel painful…
the real world, the outside world,
is where things get done,
where progress is made,
where we get to look people in the eye,
where we get to share a smile,
where we get to experience things
that are grounded in nature –
but the real world is also where
the weight of certain things
upon our emotions and upon
our thoughts and upon our dreams
can sometimes make us all feel fragile.
Reality is life – but every so often
everybody needs a dose of something
that they have never seen before,
or perhaps something that they
may have seen over and over again…
everybody needs a vision of a life
and of a world unlike the one
that they are daily familiar with…
everybody needs to have this place,
this time, those moments,
those out of body experiences
when they get let their imagination
run wild so that it can play along with all
of the fantastic possibilities of creativity
that they see – which may not be
a true reflection of the everyday world,
but which are always considered to be
a source of hope to help people cope
and to get some much needed escapism.
My Poem “The Kite Flyer”
Over time we learn more about the world,
we learn more about ourselves,
and more about how the biology,
the chemistry, and the physics
of the universe actually works –
by asking questions, by seeking connections,
by looking at our own reflection,
by making mistakes, by taking missteps,
by “going off the reservation”,
by doing things, by choosing things,
and by believing in things
beyond what we know that we need to grow,
but which can innitially seem
as ephemeral and as fleeting as snow,
and then slowly but surely
we build up within us memories,
experiences, recollections, and dreams
of a person, of a place, of a time
that can resonate like a beacon to guide us
and potentially save us in instances of twilight,
that we must hold on to and marvel at
like the stars but never let go of –
like a kite twisting and turning
against a blue sky on a day
when the force of the energy all around us
feels like it could easily
lift us off of the ground.
My Poem “Decennium”
Time goes by so fast…
life goes by like a flash…
one minute you are
starting down upon a path
and the next thing you know
an entire decade of years has passed –
and when you look back
you see now what you could not see
back then all the things that would
not work out, as well as all the things
that would grow beyond
your ability to truly grasp.
It’s been ten years since
I declared loud and clear
that I was a Poet and that
I was going to write from the heart
and let my poetic gift
dictate where I would go
and what I would write…
ten years since people from far
and wide started to read what I wrote
and began to tell me that I should
collect what I had written together
and publish all my hopes, all my dreams,
and all my feelings within a book
that could be held, read,
and which could be a source
of inspiration for people seeking out
a literary ray of light.
Over the last ten years
I have written hundreds of poems,
I have written and I have compiled
ten books of poetry and stories
that were creations of my own
imagination, as well as inquiries
into the heart, the mind, and the soul
of humanity through multi-layered
characters, supernatural tales,
and of course through poems
that were often both questions
and answers that spontaneously
came to me when I began
every verse of my poetry.
Over the last ten years
I can honestly say that I have
learned so much about the world,
about people, about myself,
about writing, about publishing,
and if I knew ten years ago
what I know now then I would hope
that I would not change too much
about what I wrote and why –
even the many mistakes that I have made –
because if I had not done what I did
then I would not have learned
why some things matter
and why some things do not,
and why some things are a matter of
being there at the right place
and why some things are a matter of
being where you are at the right time
to sit down, to open up, to write,
and to leave your mark in some way.
Mark The Poet 