family

My Poem “The Heart of A Family”

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

There are some things in this life
that cannot be predicted…
there are moments in our lives
that we never want to see repeated…
there are some things and some people
that we all sometimes take for granted…
there are truly terror-inducing,
fear-filled, horrifying and shocking
things that happen to fathers,
to brothers, to sisters, to mothers –
to members of a family –
that have the power of a lightning-bolt,
the gravity of a star, and the explosive
impact of a bomb being detonated
to bring people to their knees.

When terror and tragedy strike
time is always of the essence…
when there is the fear that
someone could lose their life
every action of every second is precious…
when someone’s heart stops beating
the split-second instincts
of a stranger could mean everything…
when a chaotic event takes place
the present and the future
of a person’s life can depend upon
so many disaparate pieces of a puzzle
coming together, to work together,
to give something to someone else:
to restart a person’s heart,
to breathe life back into the lungs of someone, in my opinion,
is nothing short of a miracle,
because giving the gift of life,
so that someone may carry on
living and breathing once again,
is truly incredible and phenomenal in every way.

So many things run through a person’s mind
when they hear that something
out of their control has happened
to someone that they love…
so many different scenarios
are considered and so many
things are thrown into the air
in order to find out who or what
was to blame for what happened,
and for what mostly could not have been foreseen;
however, ultimately, the truth about every one of us is that
no one is untouchable,
everybody is vulnerable –
and when the life of somebody
who is important to a group of people
is threatened in some way
it becomes greatly apparent
whom it is who stands, sustains,
and is the driving force
at the heart of a family.

Dedicated to my Dad
My Dad

My Poem “Mum Love”

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

I love my Mum!
I love my Mum in so many ways…
I have loved my Mum since the instant
that I opened my eyes and I stared longingly
at her beautiful face…
I love my Mum and to me there is no one else like her…
I love my Mum and to me she
is the epitome of the perfect mother…
I love my Mum and she has loved me
since the day I was born…
I love my Mum and every day she gives
the gift of her loving soul to her family
while not expecting anything in return…
I love my Mum and I always will…
I love my Mum to me she will always be beautiful…
I love my Mum like a flower loves the sun…
I love my Mum, and just as my Mum will always love me
I will always love her
and I will always be her loving son.

My Poem “The True Meaning”

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

The true meaning of Christmas
isn’t about presents –
the true meaning of Christmas
is about the bond shared
between family and friends
and the love that binds
children and their parents…
The true meaning of Christmas
isn’t about money,
nor about what other people have –
the true meaning of Christmas
is about rising above the trivial
and looking around at your life
and being grateful for the truest
and the purest gift of all: the gift of love…
The true meaning of Christmas
isn’t about where you are –
the true meaning of Christmas
is about who you are with
and what certain people mean to you…
When I think about what Christmas means to me
I look no further for the answer
than to my family, to my fiance, to my friends –
those who give me so much every day
without asking anything in return
and who to me embody the true meaning of Christmas.

My Poem “Thankfulness”

Mark Hastings Poetry, Short-story , , , , , , , , , , ,

Thankfulness… Thoughtfulness… Hopefulness…
At this time of the year
it is everybody’s wish
to usher in a sense of joyfulness
like the feeling of youthfulness
that a happy child
experiences on a daily basis
when they are growing up.
It is good to be thankful…
It is good to think, to help,
and to give back to others…
It is good to marvel at
and share a source of glee
that shines when the clouds above are dull,
and it is good for one and all
to gather together.
So much of life is forgotten…
So much of time is lost…
So much of this world is beautiful…
So many people have
experienced something in their life
that they believe to be a miracle –
and though it can be hard sometimes
to see the good through the bad,
to see optimism through a cloud
of pessimism and scepticism,
each and every one of us
is lucky to have what we have –
because each and every one of us has things
both big and small that make us happy
and for which we are eternally
grateful and thankful for.

My Poem “Bonfire Nights”

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

I remember the nights
of the fifth of November…
I remember the times
standing around, feeling the heat,
and basking in the glow of a bonfire…
I remember being a child
and being completely hypnotised
by the flickering of the flames
and by the sound of the cracking
of the furnace that burned before my eyes…
I remember watching the giant behemoth
that brought light to the darkness
and warmed the heart of my family and I…
I remember being a child and reciting to myself
the rhyme “remember, remember, the fifth of November”,
and having my imagination filled with images
of “gunpowder, treason, and plot”,
and watching Guy Fawkes being burned in effigy…
it has been too long since I stood
and looked into the flames of a fire,
but I still remember and I will never forget
all those bonfire nights that were filled
with sights, sounds, smells,
memories and dreams that will forever
fuel the inspiration and the fire
of my occasional child-like wants and desires.

My Poem “The Pumpkin”

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

There is something wonderful
about watching children
and an entire family gather around
and participate in the carving
of a pumpkin for Halloween…
Everybody has an opinion,
everybody has an idea
about what image should be carved
into the skin of a ripe pumpkin
after its contents have been removed
and it now resembles an orange shell…
It seems as if it is only at this time of the year
when you actually get to see a pumpkin –
and they in themselves are what symbolize
Halloween as the season it has for longest time
been remembered for as being…
Halloween, like most public holidays,
is about family, about tradition, and
about enjoying the fruits of the world
that surrounds us…
Ghost stories, scary movies,
rides at fairgrounds that take us on
a rollercoaster of emotions is
what reminds people that they
are alive and kicking…
Halloween is the season that we are in,
and what better way to celebrate
this season of the human spirit
than to gather around and carve a pumpkin.

MyPoem-ThePumpkin

My Poem “My Basic Instincts”

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

My basic instinct is to love:
to love Melissa, to love my family,
to love life and all the gifts
and wonders that it provides…
My first instinct is to be optimistic:
to focus on the positive,
to look at things in a way that feels poetic,
profound, and as inspiring
as the sight of fire-light…
My basic instinct is to the think
about people and about things
and be inspired by them:
moments when a single thought
grows into the many words of an idea
are golden and they are as energizing
as a bolt of lightning
from the mysterious and inviting sky
that I see above me –
whether at night when it is dark,
or when the sun shines bright
and intensifies an already
beautiful blue sky…
In any sense of the word,
I am not a genius of intellect –
however, what and who I am
is a dreamer, a writer
and an artist who seeks out
and who follows the trails of breadcrumbs
and footprints that are there to be found,
until I find myself back where I began…
and it is then that I realize again
who I am and what are my basic instincts.

My Poem “Unconditional Love”

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

Everybody has a mother,
but not everybody is born
to a mother as beautiful,
amazing, and kind…
everybody is the best of their parents,
but not everybody is as lucky as I am
to have a Mum and a Dad as loving,
as caring, and as nurturing as mine…
my Dad is as strong in body as he is in mind,
and my Mum has the heart of an angel…
my Dad has given me the strength
to overcome every obstacle since I was a child,
and my Mum has given me
the life-long gift of love
and she has kept alive my creative soul
since I was boy – and together,
both my Mum and Dad have made me
the resilient and the loving person that I am,
and one of the greatest gifts of my life
has been to have been given from birth
the most caring, loving,
and amazing Mum and Dad,
and their unconditional love.

My Poem “American Dogs”

Mark Hastings Poetry , , , , , , , ,

American dogs
of every size, breed,
fur length and fur colour…
American dogs of the countryside,
of the city, and of suburbia…
American dogs – wolves of the domestic era…
American dogs who grow up with,
who know, and who would
protect their owner
if they were ever in danger…
American dogs who have been
taught and treated in the right way
since they were a puppy
never forget who loves them,
nor where their home is…
American dogs are an important
part of the family
that they have been adopted into…
American dogs, like children,
love to be shown affection
by their adoptive parents…
American dogs adore their human parents
and they worship them
as if they were gods…
I have seen multiple times,
in multiple ways, face-to-face,
how truly loving, social,
thoughtful, and protective
some animals can be to their
family and their siblings –
and, in my opinion,
there is nothing like the love
that is shown and given freely
by an owner, which is then
reciprocated by
an American Dog.

My Poem “Flamingo”

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

Your passion is like a flame…
an indomitable spirit beats within your heart…
a fire can be found in the blood within your veins…
your strength is inspiring…
ever since I was a boy I have watched you grow
into becoming a striking model of grace and beauty…
to see you as you are now is amazing…
you are loving to those who mean the most to you…
you have seen so much, you have been to so many places –
and yet you have not changed since you were a girl…
I am so proud of who you are…
there is no doubt in my mind that no matter what happens
to you in the future, my sister, you will never stop continuing
to be a beacon of hope for those who you love
and those whom love you…
to me, it is no coincidence that purple is your favourite colour:
because purple is the colour of royalty,
creativity, dignity, devotion, pride, independence, and magic…
to me it is fate that you like flamingos,
because “Flamingo” means “Flame-coloured”,
and Flamingos symbolize love and happiness
and someone who is accepting,
someone who opens their heart for others,
someone who can’t stop giving, and that is you to a tea –
because you embody all that a Flamingo symbolizes.
Happy Birthday to my wonderful sister!
Happy Birthday, Clare!