friend

My Poem ‘Guardian Angel’

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

Your guardian angel,
your true soul-mate,
the most beautiful,
the greatest of the great;
your loving, sharing,
caring, best friend,
your inspiration, your hero,
the path with whom that has no end;
the person for whom
your love you can’t ever not show.

You cannot always see them,
but they are always there;
you cannot always hear them,
but it is to your picture
that they always stare;
you cannot always be with them,
but they are always thinking about you;
you cannot always put into words
how much they mean to you –
however, you can always guarantee
that the feeling is beautifully mutual.

The poetry that they write
is the life and soul of their heart;
wherever they are, whatever they are doing,
a part of them and you
are creating invisible
timeless masterpieces of art;
the hopes and dreams that you share
make each of you who you are;
the light that shines
when you both combine
is brighter than any star.

Sometimes the less you say
the more you say;
sometimes the most beautiful flower in the world
grows in the wildest of gardens;
the most priceless jewel in the world
can only be found
and it cannot so easily be given away;
those who save us every day
are the angels that walk the Earth
and are a part of our lives,
and they are our eternal and loving guardians.

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My Poem ‘Sympatico’

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

It truly is good to share;
it truly is great to communicate;
it truly is epic to marvel at the most beautiful,
as you look, stop, revel, and stare;
it truly is miraculous to find someone,
and to know someone,
who from minute one
you instantly feel that they are
your long-lost soulmate.

Associations bind the planet;
relationships keep the heart of the world beating;
inside everybody is a secret poet;
there is no such thing
as an accidental or chance meeting.

The moment that you make a friend
you create ripples in their life,
and they create waves in yours;
the moment that you establish a rhythm with someone
you can always count on what drew you to them
in the first place, because to you
they are like a beautiful sand-covered beach shore;
when someone first makes you smile,
when someone makes you laugh for the first time,
there is an instant and growing synergy
and an energy that becomes spectacular
and breathtaking – like the scenery of a country mile;
and without having to try
there is a melding together
of hearts and minds.

True understanding does not always come from explaining,
true learning mostly comes from interacting and practicing;
true love for someone which is also mutual
is something that you really and truly just know;
the true pull of the universe
that holds everything together
is as mysterious as dark matter,
it is as beautiful and as shining as the stars –
and whether you realize it at all,
that which is the most important of them all in life
is to feel, to understand, to cherish,
and to realize that life is meant to be lived,
and as long as you have life
you have it all.

My Poem ‘Fallen Friend’

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

A fallen friend, a fallen star,
a friendship that will never end,
a familiar face to be remembered
always as if they were still by your side
as well as always in your heart.

We meet so many people in our lives,
but the special ones we remember forever;
we make so many friends,
but there are only a small group
to whom our fate and their fate
will always be tied together.

It’s hard to say goodbye to a friend –
especially when their spirit
can still be felt, heard,
and seen where we always remember them being;
it means everything to never forget someone,
and it is comforting to always believe
that one day you will see them again;
it’s hard to put into words
what someone truly means to us
and what about them we always found amazing;
it always hurts to think that a friend of yours
had to endure a time in their life
that caused them such pain.

To recall a shared memory,
to say a silent prayer,
to light a candle,
to say goodbye,
to never forget,
to believe that they who we have lost
we be looking over us
as long we continue to remember them.
Earth angels and heroes never die,
nor do great fighters who keep fighting
until the bitter end…
so, to all the dearly departed,
this poem is for you,
this poem is for all of our
indomitable and special
never to be forgotten
fallen friends.

My Poem ‘Journey’s Friend’

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

Journeys are more memorable when shared;
journeys are more meaningful
when they are unexpected;
journeys are more special
when you care about every moment
that you are somewhere;
journeys are more fantastic
when you do something epic and amazing
with a friend.

A journey does not have to take place
in a fantasy world for it to be thought of
as magical;
a journey to somewhere,
a journey to something,
can take an hour, or even a lifetime,
and can be just as profound
as watching a new star being born,
which irrevocably changes
the features of the face
of the night-sky forever;
a journey that gives you a gift
every minute and every step along the way
is one that is truly inspirational;
a journey that takes you far and wide
but also close and deep in the same breath
is a miracle in every sense of the word
beyond measure.

A companion to lean on;
a mate to understand you
and pull you through the twilight nights;
a partner you can always count on;
a sidekick to have adventures with;
an ally and a buddy beyond any doubt;
a Butch to your Sundance
you would want by your side if, when, where
you had to make the decision
to jump off a cliff.

A reader of your stories;
someone who you would walk into a burning building for;
a comrade who is one of the best things in your life
who sees the world in the same way that you see it;
a familiar face, who you wish
was always standing at your front door;
someone who you have an unbreakable bond with
that will still be there and strong, even after death;
the best person you know
who is always there for you,
because they are, as you are,
your journey’s friend.

My Poem ‘Birthmark’

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

34 years, 408 months,
1,774 weeks, 12,418 days ago,
on the 21st of April, 1981,
a little boy was born
and two of the most wonderful
and amazing parents
anyone could ask for
were blessed with a son –
that was the day
that I arrived in the world,
and that was when the tapestry of my life
slowly began to unfurl.

Mark James Hastings,
that is the name that I was given at birth
and that is who I have been
since it was printed for all time
on my birth certificate;
son, brother, friend,
wanderer, wonderer,
dreamer, hard-worker,
and 99.9 percent of the time
a lover of life and a writer
in the form of a poet.

People are always telling me
that I don’t look my age;
people are always asking me
what my secret is to having
an old soul inside someone
with such a young face;
people ask me all the time
where I get my ideas from
when I am writing,
and my response to that question
is one word: life –
because that is the epic adventure
that is eternally and limitlessly
exciting, enlightening, and inspiring.

I have flashes of memories of my childhood
that regularly come back to me;
I have emotions of experiences from my life
that daily make me smile and make me cry;
I have mental and physical photos
that I look at with glee;
I have questions that I ask
that begin who…? what…? where…?
when…? how…? why…?
But I will always know and remember
what is important and I will continue
to spread the word about what I have learned
in my life, and sometimes I secretly wish
that I could replay certain special moments
that I have had, even though I know
life is meant to be so that I can’t.

Today is my birthday;
today is a day that is close to my heart;
today is a day when I have so much to say;
today is always the day when I think back
and I talk to my younger self,
and even at the moment that I am born
I visualize myself in the mind
of my infant-self and I leave myself
a message and a question that has no end
that I know I will carry my whole life –
like a defining and indelible birthmark.

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My Poem ‘Dear Friend’

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

Dear friend,
how have you been?
What have you heard?
what have you seen?
What have you been doing?
How have you been feeling?
It’s spring here,
and the days feel longer;
it’s starting to get steadily warmer,
I have to say –
and every day, just recently,
has been sunny and bright,
and above my head has been
an endless blue sky.
Winter was cold,
however we had no snow –
and it felt like everything
was holding its breath;
but now everything and everybody
can breath regularly,
because everything now is clearer.

I saw a magician last week,
and I am still amazed by what I saw
and what I felt during their show;
I began reading an old favourite book of mine,
‘The Hitch Hikers Guide to the Galaxy’,
and I am convinced that wherever I look
I am seeing the number ’42’ –
the answer to ‘Life, the Universe, and Everything’;
I went to London again a few weeks ago,
and I had the most fantastic and inspiring time;
I have been going from place to place,
and I have been compelled to take pictures,
ask questions, and write a poem or two;
it has been weeks since I went to the cinema
to watch a film – however there are a few movies
that I am looking forward to seeing –
every time I go to the cinema
it has mostly been a special experience for me:
it always has, and always will be.

My life has been a roller-coaster
for a while, as you know,
and I have been through a lot –
not as much as some,
but I think my fortunes
may be on the rise again, like the rising sun.
I must go now, but I hope to hear from you soon.
Whatever you are doing,
I hope you are happy and having fun!
I hope you continue to live a blessed and happy life,
and I wish only the best for you,
my dear friend.

My Poem ‘Writing the blues’

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

Writing the blues
is writing about what you feel
deep in your heart;
writing about your feelings
is sometimes like telling a story
that you don’t know how, or where, to start;
writing is one of the most important things
in the life of a poet;
writing poetry is sharing your soul beautifully,
and seeing your dreams travel to the stars.

Only a fellow poet can know what it takes
to put your emotions and memories into words;
only a fellow artist can understand
what it means to create something important,
as a gift to the entire world;
only a fellow dreamer
can possibly go on a journey with you,
and give you hope when you need it the most;
only a fellow friend
with the most amazing generosity of spirit
can pick you up and bring you back to life
when you feel lost.

Things in life happen for a reason;
even the most beautiful and gifted of humanity,
some of the most gorgeous people that we know,
have to go through pain and confusion –
however, those friends, those dreamers,
those artists, those poets, those kindred spirits,
I pray will always remember that,
no matter how near or far away we are,
we are all on this planet
and we all live in this world
to be there for each other.

To you, my fellow poet of the blues;
to you, my fellow poet of the universe;
to you, from me the poet of the sphere;
to you, for you, because of you –
in the form of this poem,
I just want you to know,
that I am here for you.
Let your tears flow,
collect them and let the wave of life take you –
but stand tall, stay strong, think of me,
and continue to dream beautiful poetry;
when you sleep, and when you wake every morning,
continue to write from the heart,
and, as if you were singing,
continue writing the blues.

Dedicated to the wonderful poet Zula Blues Poet

My Poem ‘Elise Jené’

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

My beautiful, wonderful
and talented friend, Elise Jené,
is, and has been, an inspiring light
for everyone who has ever met her –
and that was something that I saw,
felt, and knew, when I first met her,
all those years ago,
when she became my friend on that first day.

Elise is a musician, a teacher,
a healer, a divine messenger;
Elise is a singer, a song-writer,
a lover of life, who I once described
as a “jewel of Canada”;
Elise is a friend, a warrior,
a believer, a world-traveler,
and an extra-dimensional explorer –
who has not only seen the world,
but she also understands the world;
and until I met her,
I had never met anyone like her.

I have been listening to Elise’s music for years;
I have been listening to Elise’s beautiful voice
and been literally been brought to tears;
I have thought of Elise as a spiritual guide for me,
ever since we first traded messages;
I have seen Elise rise higher and higher,
and I truly believe that her spirit and mine
have been communicating for ages.

When Elise plays her guitar,
when Elise plays a song on a piano,
when Elise sings a song of hers,
I am instantly reminded of the meaning of the heavens,
the universe, and the music of the stars;
when Elise performs, and talks,
I am always captivated by her voice –
and I can even imagine seeing her sing and play,
even if I can only, merely, and wonderfully
hear her voice on the radio.

My friend is great;
my friend is beautiful and amazing in so many ways;
my friend is so close to me in spirit,
even if she is physically far-away;
my friend is incredible,
and I am so lucky to have an infinite friend
like my friend, Elise Jené.

Check out my friend Elise Jene’s amazing website SuryaDevi.com and check our her amazing music @ Mantrasforthemasses.com

My Poem ‘From Scratch’

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

How do you build a house
without a blue-print?
How do you piece together a puzzle
without first seeing a picture
of how the completed image appears?
What makes a true friendship?
Where do you go
when you have caught all of your tears?

You can’t ever truly go back,
some things are meant to be broken and stay unmended;
some things are just not meant to last;
if we didn’t care,
then there wouldn’t be times when we feel offended.

I am like my Dad,
I am a man of deep feelings;
if I have been hurt by someone,
or something, I do feel sad;
if you start to believe what other people say
and think about you,
one day you might discover that while you were listening,
thinking, and obsessing, you were overlooking
the real thing that you have been missing.

If you had never heard music before,
and someone played you a song,
would you know what it was?
Would you still be able to feel
the same flood of emotions,
and be transported away in the only way
that music knows how to, and always does?

If you had never written a single poem before,
and then one day you sat down and wrote one for someone,
could you say what you wanted to say?
If someone meant the world to you,
how would you tell them, and in what way?

If I had to start from scratch,
if I had to reset and make the same choices over again,
if I could turn back time as easy as you can
with the hands of a clock, or a watch,
if I could talk to the dearly-departed who I once knew,
there are some things that I would love to say
for the very last time, and truly say a fitting goodbye
to an old friend.

Times must change;
everyone must meet their match;
you should never run away from a moment of rage;
when you think you have lost it all,
pick up the pieces that you can see scattered around you,
go home, and start again from scratch.

My Poem ‘It’s a tradition’

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

I love reunions;
I love keeping traditions;
I love catching up
and reconnecting with old friends;
I love being there when a friend of mine
is sharing their gift with me
live and in person,
that instantly transports me back
to a time way back when;
I love giving all the support that I can;
I love the feeling of hearing someone I know
remember me, mention me,
care that I am who they always know I am going to be:
a passionate, supportive, friend,
moon in orbit around them, life-long fan.

To forget a face is impossible for me;
to not be there when a friends calls out to me,
even from far away, is beyond imagining;
to overcome anything in my way,
to be where I am needed, is what I do;
to believe what I know and what I feel
deep in my heart and soul
is something I am proud of;
and if you know me,
then you will know that
that is nothing new.

Time-traveling is a passion for me.
I may not be able to physically travel through time,
but I have perfected the skill
that everybody has to quantum leap
back into the body and mind of their younger-self.
Time travel is not just something
that people can do in science-fiction –
it is a gift that for me is easy to do
and use to remind myself,
without changing anything
that might affect the present in any way,
what the most important things about life there are to remember,
and to hold on to them so they can’t ever drift away.

I do forget sometimes
how much I do share, and have shared, with people;
I often need reminding
who I am, and how lucky I am –
however, as soon as I hear a certain voice,
as soon as a particular song starts playing,
it is a moment for me that is beautiful,
and I again believe with every fiber of my being
that the universe does indeed have a plan.

I have always believed that traditions are important;
I will remember as much of my life,
for as long as I can, with a passion;
I am constantly learning about new and old ways
of not allowing things to be forgotten –
every day, in every way, everywhere on this planet;
I will continue to return, repeat, keep,
and remember that things and the places I am remembered for;
and for as long as I can, I will be there,
doing what I do, and keeping my own
meaningful and amazing traditions.