Ever since I was young,
capturing moments of time
with a camera has been important
to me and to my family -
especially to my amazing Dad:
who used to record home movies
of us when we used to go on family holidays
to Orlando, Florida,
in the United States of America...
when I was a boy,
my Dad used to take photos of us
whenever we would go somewhere together -
because to my Dad photographs
were like memories,
and because my Dad loved his family
and he loved sharing his life
with his adoring wife and his children
whenever he would look back upon
the joyous instances that he had captured
you could see in his eyes
what every second with us
meant to him.
Children grow up so fast...
families change,
especially when things happen
that are out of their control...
no matter how old someone is
everybody always daydreams of the past...
as we all move from place to place,
and as we all meet new people,
we all adapt and to wherever we are
and we all find ourselves
undertaking new roles -
and there are always things
that we hold on to
which always gives us a jolt of nostalgia
every time we hold them again:
perhaps something that we had
forgotten about that feels like
the piece of a puzzle
which reminds us of something
that once meant the world to us.
Family photos are both wonderful -
and yet bittersweet reminders
of who we were, where we were,
and with whom, once upon a time,
when things were different...
memorable songs are great to hear again -
but whenever you hear a certain song
playing somewhere, at some time,
everybody always has an emotional reaction,
and sometimes a particular song
can make you think of someone
you have lost but also someone
whose soul still feels close enough to touch.
The stories of things and people
often times outlast and endure
beyond those who they are about,
because everybody loves to be entertained
by the exploits and the adventures
of someone whose memory
and spirit is indelible
and sometimes tangible -
and there are times when
the image of something or someone
can say even more than
a thousand words about them could,
especially when someone who
is a natural storyteller shows
what and who meant the most to them
through whom they chose
to record and to remember
whenever they picked up a camera
and captured in every second
of their home movies.
family
Short story: “The Man in the Mirror” (2018) by Mark Hastings
My Poem “Dear Dad”
Whenever a beam of sunlight touches us,
whenever a red-breasted robin
comes to visit us,
whenever we see a white feather
on the path before us,
whenever we feel someone
standing beside us,
whenever we see your face within our mind,
we know that you have returned to us
to make sure we are OK,
as you put your hand upon our shoulders,
as you continue to smile
your one of a kind smile,
as your blue eyes continue to shine
brighter than the stars of night sky,
as you continue to give us the gift of you,
as well as your amazing presence and radiating spirit,
as we all continue to feel
your everlasting love.
I can not believe that it has been
a year since I last saw you,
I can not believe that it has been
a year since I last heard your voice,
I can not believe that it has been
a year since I last held your hand;
every day, I still feel our bond and our connection...
every day, I can still feel your presence
and I have felt comforted by the knowledge
that I know you are now living a life
somewhere beyond what can be seen -
because you have visited me
and you have spoken to me
now multiple times in my dreams.
Life will never again
be the same as it was...
every day I think about you,
and I can still recall how
devastated and distraught
I was when I found out
that you had been taken from us...
I am not the same as I was,
nor could anyone hope to be
following the loss of someone
who meant the world to them,
as you will always mean to me...
I will always remember all that
you gave me and all that you taught me,
and I will continue your legacy
for as long as I live...
to me, you will always be
the best father anyone ever had
and you will always be
my inspiration and my hero,
my incredible and my always
near and dear Dad.
David William George Hastings
6th January 1949 - 8th December 2022
‘The Wolf In Us’ by Mark Hastings – Prologue: “The Wolf In Us” – part 7
My Poem “The Insight”
My father, my mother, my family, my friends, and I have shared many amazing and wonderful gifts of shared experience together - however, on more than one occasion, above all the gifts of reciprocation, the psychic and empathic bond that I have had with certain people still continues to thrill me and to further convince me that what we think, what we feel, what we say, what we share is sometimes inaudible and only known by those who we have opened up to and those who we have given a part of our soul. Since I was a child, I have put my trust in people... since I was a child, I have put my faith in fate... since I was a child, I have put my heart into a circle of family who became my world... since I was a child, things have changed in some ways - whereas, in some ways, some things have remained the same: one of which being, I have always preferred to be early for something than to turn up to something, somewhere, late. I have always had heightened senses that told me that something was happening or that something was about to happen that though it would be out of my hands whatever it was would have a profound effect on me... I have always had this gift to be able to feel what and who lies beyond the invisible veil that separates the different versions of what is called "reality"... I have always had this instinct about certain things, even before I knew what they meant - and I have had experiences with certain people when we gave something to each other, and I know that what we had, though perhaps short-lived, meant something at the time. I have always loved having the secret knowledge that I could do the seemingly impossible - that I could go back to the beginning, relive moments when I was younger, and revist with the people who mean the most to me, as well as return to the places and to revist the people I knew from days and relationships gone by, where, when, and with whom I am certain I was fated to have known and to have been given the blessing of perspective because of that has only given more power to my one of a kind insight. Happy Poetry Day! 😊
Mark The Poet 