future

My Poem ‘The First of Many’

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

They say that how you spend
the first day of the year
is also how you will spend
your last day of the year,
and vice versa;
every year for as long as I can remember
I have spent the first early hours of every year
doing the same thing
that I did the year before on January 1st;
some people make resolutions
and vow to stick by them
and repeat the same steps
over and over again like a novice dancer;
every year on day one I set out into the world
and I seek to quench
my ultimately unquenchable poetic thirst.

‘Happy new year’ is a hope for the best;
a smile and a kiss when the clock strikes twelve
at the first second of new year’s day
is like the important first move
in a game of chess;
a thought about someone else
can be like a torch
to help guide someone through a fog;
your constant companion
and your best friend
will help you overcome anything
that you may be dealing with –
and they could be your partner,
your hero, or they could be
your ever-faithful dog.

This is my first stepping-stone of hope;
this is my first promise to stay true to myself
in the form of my poetry;
this is my foray into a new future
I do not yet know;
this is my first new year’s resolution, of a sort,
and I can guarantee already
that it is but the first of many.

My Poem ‘Feelings’

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

As one book closes,
another story begins;
as a new book begins,
the eternal story continues;
as eyes open to greet new light,
eyelids fall under the weight of the stars
that shine above at night;
and while some rise high,
others cannot help but fall deep.

Every day we understand
more about our own lives;
every minute we wonder
what happened to all of our time;
every second our heart’s keep beating
to tell us that we can do more
with our gift of life;
every spark of thought
that comes to our minds
can be like the lure
on the end of a fisherman’s line
calling to, and connecting with,
both the past and the future,
the unforgettable
and the one of a kind.

The pages of time
flick back and forth
like leaves on the wind;
if you look closely around you
you may even see who and where
you were when you were younger;
whatever, or whomever, brings light
and joy into your life
will always be your best friend;
every moment only comes once;
every experience has a half-life;
everybody follows in the foot-steps of another;
embrace every chance of happiness;
enlighten the world with your smile and your grin;
live your dreams day to day and night to night;
in your life there will never be nothing,
because all that you need
will always be that which is closest to you –
we all have hands, fingers, eyes, and a mouth
to grasp and to show
the colours of our feelings.

My Poem ‘Back to the Future’

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

Wednesday,
October 21,
2015

There are things that silently inspire us;
there are things that we can call back to
that can have the effect of being
a time-travel flux-capacitor;
there are things that truly have a hand
in making us;
there are things from all of our pasts
that we constantly strive to bring back
and make them a part of our future.

For everybody,
every day of our childhood
is a playground that we always want
to make the most of;
when we are children
we all look up and are absolutely captivated
and hypnotized by the sight
of an airplane flying through the sky above;
everybody uses their imagination
and the memories of the things
that they have seen and heard
to build dream-landscapes and new worlds
of all hues and colours within their mind;
we all have a date that we always say
that if we could go anywhere
at any specific moment from our lives
that we would always choose to go to
and to go back to, if at any instance
it were possible to travel through time.

The idea of time-travel –
just as with the possibilities of space-travel –
is a wondrous fantasy that we have all
entertained more than once;
the amazing prospect of being able to go back
and come face to face with a direct relative
or ancestor of ours,
who we share a miraculous similarity to,
is one that we would all embrace with both hands
if we were given the chance;
some people would rather live in the future,
while others would prefer to know the future –
especially their own personal future;
I, personally, would love
to be able to flash back
and see myself, and perhaps introduce myself
to myself at a young age,
and reassure my adolescent self
that if you/I believe in yourself/myself,
and if you/I continue to be
who you/I know you are/I am,
and as long as you are happy,
every day of your life will contain within it
a glistening and shining jewel
like the pearl within an oyster.

Everybody wishes
that they could meet their parents
when they were younger;
everybody watches movies
that depict a potential future
and they hope that that imagined world
would come true sooner rather than later;
everybody wishes that they had a time-machine
to use at their leisure;
everybody sees things
or witnesses something
that they wish hadn’t happened
that they would definitely
change the outcome of,
or stop from happening entirely,
if they had the means
and the time to do over.

We are all time-travelers;
we are all traveling every second
into an unknown future
that we have next-to-no power over
to control beyond the actions
that we choose to make;
we are all effecting the world around us
with every step that we take;
we are all able to travel
without the need for roads
and discover our reason to be:
where we are going and why –
just like Doc. Brown and Marty McFly did
in one of my favourite films from my childhood…
Back to the Future.

image

My Poem ‘Song of the Mockingbird’

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

Far away from Tennessee,
as my ears anticipate
and my eyes look forward,
my heart and my thoughts
are thousands of miles away
across the sea –
and even though I cannot say for sure,
I swear that I hear a song calling to me,
and even though I have yet to see one
outside of the still of a picture,
I believe with all my heart
that the song that I hear
is the true call of a Mockingbird.

In my dreams,
fireflies and lightning bugs
dance and fly through the air
around my love and I;
I dream that I am standing in the dark
outside in the Georgia heat,
locked in a tight embrace
and in awe with the one
to whom I am bound
as we fall under the spell of each other,
and with the beauty of nature;
my dreams, I believe, are also shared dreams
that serve as a doorway to bridge
two thresholds, at any time –
morning, noon, and night;
I believe, and I know,
that you, yourself,
with someone else
can not only tell the future,
but you can make and you can grow
a future that will last forever.

I wish I could take flight right now
and fly across the ocean;
as I write this,
my eyes are drawn to the west;
I wish I could write a poem or a song
to sing so that everybody
could not only read, but also feel,
all of my emotions;
as I gaze out and I see
what lies beyond the horizon,
I feel true love,
and I know that I am blessed.

There are some songs
that are easy to learn
and sing for all to hear, word-for-word;
there are some voices
that are so distinctive
it would take all the gifts of a vocal mimic
in order to make them seem
as if their call were one spoken
by someone of a native tongue
or a particular language who is fluent;
there are some feelings and some spirits
that can freely and easily
fly through the air
over borders, expanses, and fences;
there are some people
who are so beautiful and amazing
in every way that their plumage
and their meaning is one that is known
the world around for being
as one of a kind and as special
as the song of the Mockingbird.

My Poem ‘This New Day’

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

Each new day presents new challenges;
each new day we all leave new footprints;
each new day relies on its connection
to the day before
so as to rhyme with the day to come;
each new day is a choreography
and a mix of infusions
of many styles of dances;
each new day we see people pushing their limits;
each new day our closest star shines and burns
and keeps alive life on Earth,
and until we reach our dying day
that important star will always be our sun.

This new day, this new start,
this new time to play,
this new chain of moments
are ours to do with what we choose;
this new awakening, this new cycle,
this new rising, this new drum-roll,
is ours to make something vibrant and amazing with
just as glorious as the sky above is blue.

Every new day is a new poem;
every new poem is an entry in a diary;
every new page is written on
with the ink of inspiration and fascination;
every new thought is the first step
of a writer along the way
towards the penning of a brand new
creation of poetry.

One good morning;
one good afternoon;
one good evening;
one good night;
one new drawing;
one new moon;
one new inhale and exhale of breathing;
one new burst of beautiful sunlight
will lead and will be an important seed
that will grow like vines in a jungle
in many new directions,
and the more that we all follow
these extensions of our actions
the more new ground we too will lay –
and this process will continue
and it will go on and on forever,
and the future of tomorrow
will be made of what we all do
on this new day.

My Poem ‘Found’

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

I am so lucky,
I am so fortunate,
I am so blessed,
I am so grateful
to be able to say
that I am happy,
that I am in the place
in my life that I am at,
that I am able to sit here
and feel like I am at my best.

We all need light,
we all need hope,
we all want life,
we all want to show,
we all want to share,
we all want to care,
we all have a love in our life
that we surround ourselves with
which we hold on to tight;
we all have that something
or that someone
that we dream about at night;
we all have the right
to fight like a knight;
we all have to sometimes
run through fire
to get to the place
and to the person
that we most desire.

The world is not a solid sphere;
the people of Earth are as in motion
as the tectonic plates below the ground;
hope for a peaceful future
is the glue that keeps humanity
from completely fracturing
into a state of fear;
the people who choose
to leave their birthplace
and search for a better place
to call their home
should be allowed to find
and somehow regain
what they thought for the longest time
was forever lost and gone.

I see people looking for something;
I see people everyday
doing the best that they can;
I see people everyday tethering;
I see people everyday trying
to formulate any kind of a plan;
I see people on the move;
I see people standing still;
I see people with the optimism of youth;
I see people in search of a thrill.

Our planet is a beautiful place to live;
our planet is a beautiful place
to enjoy for all its glorious beauty;
our finite existence is a beautiful opportunity
for all of us to find and share
the meaning of all life
with that very special someone;
our lives are as they are for a reason,
and even though there may have been times
when life has been indescribably rough –
the true strength that you can have in life
is to keep believing that one day
you will be given the gift of total clarity.

A tree must shed its leaves;
a parent must let their offspring fly free;
a prosperous life must have both rain
and sunshine to thrive;
a person should not have to hide;
a kite must be lighter than air
to fly high and true;
an astronaut who braves
the outer limits of space
must also have a desire
to return to the ground;
a contradiction of differing emotions
and feelings is everybody and you;
a thing must sometimes be lost forever
so that one day by someone else
it can be found.

My Poem ‘The White Rabbit’

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

I sometimes feel like
I am akin to the white rabbit of Wonderland;
I almost always find myself late,
because even in my mind
I am always rushing off to somewhere;
I sometimes feel like I am in an hour-glass
being slowly rained on by a constant dusting
of falling grains of sand;
I sometimes struggle to know
when to go and when to stop and wait;
as I watch time tick by,
like the hands of a clock,
I am very rarely seen standing still –
when I am writing,
when I am talking,
when I am thinking,
are the most likely of times
that you will ever see me motionless,
and even then, my muscles are on the move –
in some way, shape, or form –
and, to be honest, for me to be in any way
like a statue I would have to be ill.

Some things do take time
to fully come to fruition;
some things can happen
and must only happen in the moment;
some things that are what they are
are driven by emotion;
some things are so important to us
their effect on us is incredibly potent.

I have learned over time
that you have to follow your heart;
I have always looked for the rabbit hole
to the unknown, and ran down it at full-speed
without any thought of stopping myself, or looking back;
I have always been enamored by every sentence
that I have read that has ever ended
with a question mark;
I have always considered every opportunity
as if it were a doorway to somewhere
that is so full of inspiration and wonder
it would and will always be impossible
to ever pin-point the location
of everything there on any kind of map.

I have always believed
that there is no such thing as coincidence;
I have proof that every thing
and every person comes into your life
and is a part of your life for a reason;
I have vowed to myself to never stop
doing what I do, and to will keep going –
to keep walking through every open door,
and to keep jumping over every fence;
I have watched people leave others behind
when they feel like they have to
if they want to have the thing that they most desire –
I, however, do not give up on people
or on anything that matters to me lightly,
and if I could I would be there
when and where I am wanted and needed
for those who need me
through all the colours and shades of every season.

Anything can last forever,
if you don’t give up on it
and if you don’t forget it;
while you are looking around
and taking in life and your surroundings,
try to see the signs that you should follow,
if you want to experience
your eyes being opened wide
by a thought as amazing
and as dazzling as a bright light;
the things that may happen to you
if you choose to sometimes not worry
about all the things that could happen,
and if you learn to grasp the secret of everything:
that everything happens all at once,
and that the past, the present,
and the future are all one and the same –
and, if and when you do, that is when life
will feel even more beautiful and epic…
so, make sure you look around from time to time –
so that you may see, and perhaps choose to follow,
you own personal, life-defining and enlightening,
white rabbit.

My Poem ‘From the top’

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

My time, my days,
often see me surrounded by people
on an infinite, overwhelming,
incalculable, unfathomable scale;
there are days when the thought
of how many billions of people
there are in the world
literally boggles my mind;
the obsessive observer in me
wants to see everything,
and wants to meet everyone,
and sit down with them,
so that they can tell me their tale;
the dominant writer in me
wants to discover and convey
the meaning of the entire universe
and the meaning of life
and wrap it all up in a story,
or a poem, and leave a message
to live and to love life by
for all of mankind.

I cannot help but look out and see more;
I cannot help but listen and hear
a symphonic opus;
I cannot help by feel drawn
in multiple directions,
while still keeping my feet
firmly on the ground –
like a rocket of potential
waiting to launch;
I cannot tell you how much love means to me,
and to me the meaning and the feeling of love
is the most important thing in and of my heart
that I wholly trust.

Most things occur and are where they are
according to a plan;
everyone is defined by their own unique chemistry
that, to some degree, dictate the things in life
they can’t have and the things that,
if they want to, they can have;
knowing what to do and when
is one of the key indefinable instincts
in attaining your dreams;
some things, no matter how simple
they are on the outside,
are not what they seem.

Trillions of stars,
billions of planets,
millions of galaxies,
thousands of possibilities,
hundreds of variations,
tens of directions –
but only one of each of us;
each of us bound,
each of us free,
each of us still connected
genetically to ancestors
and to distant family members
who once spent a great deal of time
thinking, adapting, understanding,
and swinging from the branches of trees.

The farther back in time we go
into the history of Earth,
and the more we read of humanities
relationship with the planet
we are blessed to live on,
we can tell and we can see
the direct effect that we as a species
have had on our environment,
on life, on ourselves,
and the most fundamental fingerprint
of humanity is the ability
to deliver change globally –
both quickly, and slowly,
quietly, and sometimes boldly –
and because change is in our nature,
we sometimes do not know when
or how to stop.

One thing that I have learned about life
is that nothing is predetermined in stone –
but a prosperous and a hopeful future for all
can happen if people work together,
and if hope can be promised, assured,
and delivered every time it is spoken,
or shown by those who in the pyramid of the world
lead from the front as well as from the top.

My Poem ‘Children of Tomorrow’

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

Children always adapt to change quicker;
learning new things to a child is always easier;
children are always asking questions
in search of answers –
sometimes even from strangers;
there is no one as braver as a child,
because to them there is no such thing as danger.

Even though I am slowly growing up
I still share the same fascination
and the same keen interest in the world
and in people as I did when I was a boy;
I can still remember who I was –
what I saw, what I thought,
what I heard, what I felt –
and when I hear a child of today
ask the same questions as I did
when I was younger it fills me with joy.

A city is like a playground to a child;
to a child all the different people
and everyone’s amazing eccentricities
are both wonderful and confusing
at varying times of a given hour;
a city is like being on a great adventure,
when a child is with their parents
and guardians, and to them
it is like being out in the wild;
to a child in a city
every skyscraper is like a magical tower.

The sights and sounds of the world
echo louder and are more profound to a child
than to the ears of an adult;
as we grow older our minds and our hearts
become filled with so many memories,
feelings, and emotions that sometimes
only serve to distract you
from seeing the wonders of the world;
adults are constantly comparing,
where as children never stop seeing,
imagining, and dreaming.

Children know what it means to be alive,
and they never waste a moment to let it show;
a child knows things that some adults have forgotten
and unfortunately no longer understand and know;
children – in body, mind, and spirit –
constantly crave to be on the go;
oh what I wouldn’t give to be a child of today
and one of the lucky children of tomorrow!

My Poem ‘The Silence’

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

I hear nothing.
Life is as it always is,
but something just doesn’t feel right;
all I can focus on,
and the only sound that breaks the silence
is my breathing;
all that I am certain of
is that I am still alive,
because I can still feel my heart beating.

The stars are in the sky;
the moon is full;
everything looks as it has appeared before –
however, I just have this feeling that I can’t shake:
that there is something lingering in the air,
something building in the darkness of the night,
that makes tonight feel like it is not just any night.

It’s probably my mind playing tricks on me;
it’s probably me thinking too much;
it’s probably something completely logical
and easily explainable, as to why I am feeling “funny”;
it’s probably my emotions running away with themselves –
however, usually when I do so,
my emotions tell me exactly what is happening,
or going to happen –
but my emotions are the thing
that I have learned to trust the most.

I have had feelings like this before –
as if I am watching a huge wave,
while standing in the ocean,
and in-awe of it and unable to move,
because I feel like I can’t look away,
and because I need the wave
to come crashing down on me somehow.
My thoughts race,
my instincts go into overdrive;
I swear in my mouth there is this odd taste;
I try to see past the darkness, and the wave,
but I cannot see beyond what hasn’t happened yet –
these days, the future feels as if
it is an ever-changing cloud.

I feel like I am looking up at the night sky
through a telescope, seeing something bright and blinding
approaching in the lens,
that looks like a meteorite
that is coming straight for me,
that is going to fall right where I am,
and the thought that I might not be touched by the impact
is one that holds no hope;
and, as I watch, as I wait, as I feel, as I listen,
I know that something is coming,
there in the silence.