Ideas

My Poem “Ideas don’t die”

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

You can bury ideas,
you can file them away for a rainy day,
you can hide ideas –
but one day those same ideas
will return to haunt you,
to keep you up at night,
and continue to make you think…
Ideas come from places, from things,
and from people – sometimes randomly…
Ideas are like sharks –
and sometimes they are just too big,
too fast, and too strong, to get away from,
because they are so imposing
and so overpowering…
Life itself is an idea,
and many people have different
and varying ideas and opinions
on how people should choose to live their lives…
Art is mostly a nexus of many ideas
coming together to form a unified idea
that surpasses and eclipses
all the others that made it…
The creation of ideas is like
engaging in an act of reproduction –
and just like every spawn or offspring,
a song, a piece of music, a story, a poem,
has an idea running through it
that binds every note, every word,
every picture of imagery,
like a strand of DNA…
Ideas make “something” out of “nothing” –
but “nothing” in my experience
is ever truly “nothing”,
because everything does mean something…
Perception is everything…
Ideas are born from experience,
and by seeing, listening, and feeling
something that creates a connection…
Ideas are the greatest and the most powerful
source of fuel for any creative person –
however, even if do not deliberately make art,
I believe that certain ideas have a way
of changing someone in such a way
that they are never the same
after they have come into contact with them –
because, for some reason, some ideas just won’t die.

Listen to My Poem “Ideas don’t die” by Mark The Poet on #SoundCloud

My Poem “Always be a rebel”

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

Inspiration is the lightning,
thunder is the art…
writers and creators are constantly playing god,
creating new worlds, creating new people,
and giving reason and meaning to people
looking for an answer at a time
when they are willing to do anything,
to leap into anything, to experience everything,
no matter the cost…
every artist should be a rebel…
every artist should not fear going
where they have never been before…
every artist should take any and every idea
that comes to them and run, shape,
and make something with that idea
that burns within them like a flame…
that first idea is but the start, the spark,
the initial flash of light in the dark,
and it takes the passion of the beating heart
of a true artist to not be afraid
to watch that idea grow and change,
find its own identity and its own voice…
knowing where to begin with anything is never easy –
but the most important thing to do
is to make a start of any kind
that is significant and sets up
what came before, what is to come,
and why you decided to create something in the first place…
rebels are artists, and artists should always be rebels.

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 ‘Trailblazer’

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

Very few of us are the first
to do something…
most of us are following
in the footsteps of other people…
there are some people who can see things
that are beyond what they have always been taught
to believe in…
sometimes a one of a kind idea
can be enough to light
the touch-paper of consciousness
and reveal something so powerful
that in the wrong hands
could be truly lethal.

We are all the still pulsating and emanating light
of an epic spark – the moment of miracle
that began reality, a long time ago,
somewhere far-away…
orbs of fire, light, energy, and hope
shine every second in a dark-sky
all around us…
there are always signs,
there are always recommendations,
steering and influencing us all
to follow a certain path –
however, sometimes those paths
can be shrouded with the shadow of uncertainty…
the stars of the universe tell their own stories,
they have a life, and they burn brightly,
and they are secret keepers and teachers of all life –
and the most important lesson that they teach us is:
when life is as good as can possibly get,
then why would you rush any moment of it?

We follow others, others will follow us…
some roads are long and a clear-run
to a specific destination,
while others are bumpy and rough…
I have always wanted to be a pathfinder –
someone who knows how amazing
and intoxicating it can be
to be the discoverer of a thing
or a place of wonder…
it is always hard for anyone
to come up with a truly original idea –
however, I believe that in our own way,
and in our own fields of exploration,
with each step that we take
we become one of life’s true trailblazers.

My Poem ‘One Giant Leap’

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

Small steps… few words…
giant leaps… new worlds…
sometimes to do the extraordinary
we have to go to places
we have never been…
sometimes to see things
we have never seen
we have to rocket away
from what we know
until we feel the pull
of a new source of gravity…
writing and telling stories
is a gift that has always been me…
writing a poem is like expressing a daydream,
writing a story and inventing a brand new world
of unique characters and situations
is like nothing else:
to me it is like letting the inspiration wolf
inside me out so that it can howl loud and run free.

Things grow… things begin as one thing,
and when they are fully-formed
they are something else…
at first, when something or someone
is first learning to find their feet
and walk tall most of the time
they take things slow…
when something or someone looks
at their own reflection
and they recognize themselves for the first time
for what they are that is when
they know what they must do,
and they begin to feel things
that they have never felt about themselves.

An idea can start as a single sentence,
and then that sentence can grow into a poem,
and then that poem can grow
into being a short-story, a novella…
and then, before you know it,
that same single idea has become
a fully-fledged story of its own
of people, places, and experiences,
that are so potent and are so powerful
that they can fill an entire book…
it cannot be quantified,
there is no equation that you can follow…
a poem, a story, an idea can grow steadily
over time into being
a force of nature in and of itself
with its own ideas and voice
about where it should go…
when writing any kind of story
you need to allow whomever your story is about
to find their own heart, their own soul,
their own spirit…
every story has a beginning, and an end –
but, sometimes, there is no way of knowing
how, when, and where, until you take
a step back from it and you allow it
to talk to you from far away
as well as up-close and personal.

I have written a story…
I have written a book…
I have spent hours, days, months,
writing, reading, editing, understanding,
and learning about what who my characters are
and going on a journey of discovery and identity
exploring a different, but familiar, world –
and, most importantly, I have not been afraid
to take risks into a sometimes dark
ocean of imagination and wading deep…
some times you have to learn to not think
too much about what you don’t know
and stop worrying about what you might find
when the time comes for you
to let your mind, your pen, your fingers,
and your words do the talking
when you decide to take your life’s small steps
and turn them into one giant leap.

My Poem ‘Where did you come from? I wasn’t expecting you?’

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

Within the blink of an eye,
within the flash of a burst of sunlight,
within an instant of time,
within a single simple impression
that touches you
when you see something
or someone at first-sight…
have you ever considered
what that moment is made up of
and where it comes from?
Have you ever thought about
what all the world
and all life is built upon?

There is always a before,
and there is always an after…
there is always energy,
and there is always matter…
there are always things
that you can’t understand
until you go through them…
there are always realities
that you can’t imagine
until you see them…
the most undeniable thing about life
is that you can never know everything
about it, about everyone who makes it,
about the depths and the secrets
of the universe beyond the sky
and our galaxy’s periphery outer-limit –
because every sphere has its own world…
every place has its own laws of nature…
every planet, every region of space,
has its own history, creation, story,
leaps in evolution, and future.

There is a reason for everything…
there is a reason we are all here…
there is a reason why nothing
can suddenly turn into something…
there is a reason for hope…
there is a reason for fear…
there is a reason for why
there are things that we need to know,
and there is a reason and a meaning
behind what makes us smile
and what brings us to tears.

Some things in life we hope for,
we plan for, we expect,
and we need to happen
to give our life the drive
and the spark to fill the world
with all that we were born to give…
sometimes when you are not expecting
to find paradise or perfection
you can stumble upon an oasis
or someone who to you is the most beautiful…
some things are so precious and meaningful,
and in every way they must be held
close to your heart as a gift…
sometimes life can become so simple,
especially when you look up
and you see something new
and you say to yourself loud and clear:
where did you come from?
I wasn’t expecting you?

My Poem ‘A Novel Idea’

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

The search for new ideas,
for an artist, is a life-long thing…
the journey towards creating something
new and one of a kind
is like living a dream…
my own personal search and journey
started deep within my soul,
and my heart, my gift,
and my love of inspiration and writing
has taken me high and it has taken me far…
a phrase, a name, a thought, an emotion,
a smile, can be the beginning
and all the spark I need
to start the flames of a fire
that may lead to a picture I draw,
or a poem, or a short-story,
that I may write –
and then it is in the hands
of a force of nature
as to where I will go and what I will say,
and to what heights and depths
I will climb and explore.

Writing a poem, to me, is like
walking in the English countryside
on a sunny Summer afternoon –
inspiration and words flow easily
and unobstructed, and my thoughts
feel energized and wild…
I could write an entire poem
about how the clouds
move against the blue-sky, and how I feel –
or, perhaps, a musing about life,
the world, people, and why we all choose
in life what we choose;
but, when it comes to writing a story –
that is where the true challenge lies,
and where the true inspiration fulfillment awaits…
writing a short-story, to me,
is a true adventure that I never plan
or know too much about at the beginning –
which grows and constantly reshapes itself,
and can sometimes find
a new identity for itself day-by-day.

A word, a title – to me they could be a poem,
to me they could be a short-story…
and then, when it starts to find its feet more,
so to speak, and it begins to run-away with itself,
it can start to become something else –
and when that happens, as a writer and as an artist,
you have to keep going, you have to keep writing,
and do not stop and do not feel any trepidation, or fear…
because, everything that happens,
and everything that inspires every writer,
happens and inspires us for a reason…
there is no way of knowing where to go,
what to do, or if what you are writing is any good
or could be enjoyable to another person’s eyes,
imagination, sensibilities, or taste,
until you sit down, and you write,
and you embrace all that follows you
in the wake of you having
your novel idea.

My Poem ‘The life of an idea’

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

Sometimes it comes like water-drops;
sometimes it comes like a flood;
sometimes the idea is born
from that instant when the words
just don’t want to stop;
sometimes creativity takes time
to grow from the seed
that you planted or sowed
before it can be something
that you, or anyone else,
may someday choose to look with love,
and go with it on its journey
wherever it goes.

A writer waits… a writer looks…
a writer listens… a writer finds things
in the outside world
and then takes them inside their mind
and then generates and regenerates
all that they have seen, heard, and know,
and creates something brand new –
they write a story, they make connections…
they assume and they presume,
and then they fill their time
with the fruits of their imagination,
and they give their creations
a piece of their spirit,
and in doing so they give their idea a life.

Some ideas only have the life of an instant of time;
some ideas, no matter how hard you try,
you can’t let go of;
some ideas come into being from a single sign;
some ideas look up at us from below,
and some ideas look down at us
and are just waiting for us to notice them –
like the stars that can only be seen
when the sky is black above.

Ideas are like children –
sometimes you have to keep them
behind a boundary so that they don’t run away;
ideas can sometimes be like rockets –
they take off, but they do not know where they are going;
an idea can be like a loyal dog –
if you feed them, if you give them attention
and if you show them love,
every day they will always come to you when you call them,
and when you tell them to stay they will stay;
to an artist there is no such thing as too many ideas,
because to an artist no matter how many ideas there are
there is never enough.

There are Ideas that evoke and differing and varied reactions
depending on the person who is exposed to them;
for some people, their idea’s come more during the day
than they do at night;
there are ideas that come, and then they go in a flash,
and they are never seen or thought of again;
some people always have ideas every how of the day,
and there are some people who struggle
to come up with anything creative –
however, in my opinion, though at times
for an inspiration-starving artist
it might be hard to pull anything out of the fire,
no artist should ever feel discouraged…
because just as a new days
brings a brand new sunrise,
so does a new moment bring new ideas –
though each and every idea
may have a different time of life.

My Poem ‘The Blender Analogy’

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

Reality is fiction…
fiction is reality,
after it has been ingested,
digested, and blended-together
with the thoughts, the feelings,
and the memories that a writer
has been storing away for a rainy day…
when the clouds come together,
and when thunder starts to rumble,
and when lightning starts flashing and striking,
and when there is the most
almighty down-pour of creativity
that rains down upon a once blank page…
that feeling, that moment,
that perforation that happens
when you rip out a page from the book of reality
and you change a word here and a name there,
and you make it your own
and something completely brand new…
it’s intoxicating, in all honesty…
it’s poetry… it’s a thing of beauty…
it’s life in a nutshell… it’s wonderful…
and as the artist, it is an amazing thing to look at
and to marvel at when all is said an done,
and when it is now yours
as well as someone else’s…
I would think that it must be a similar feeling
to that one might have after they have
sampled a part of a song that already exists
and they have repackaged it as a purported “new song” –
people have been doing it for years, right?
It can’t possibly be wrong?
Call it a stew… call it a pie…
call it a soup… and see all the similarities
to all the things that contributed into making
or influencing something –
but also remember that every-thing in life
that happens, and everything that everybody does,
is inspiring – even the seemingly accidental mistakes
that happen can, and mostly are,
just the fertile ground from which
new things may grow out of…
just recently, I heard an author
recount something that his rock-star wife
had said about the creative-process of making art,
and what they essentially said was:
that creating something, artistically or otherwise,
is like throwing seemingly different
and unconnected things into a sort-of “imagination-blender”
and turning it up to full-speed –
and I love this explanation and description so much,
because – speaking as someone who has written
one or two short-stories in my time,
and more than one verses of poetry –
I can honestly tell you
that there is no better way
to describe the creative-process
that I have ever heard
than that of “the blender analogy”.

My Poem ‘Words of Destiny’

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

A sword of words,
a motto to be repeated today
and remembered tomorrow,
a race to find a cure,
an illuminated road before you,
a journey into the unknown,
a trek of discovery,
a tale to tell yourself
when you are alone,
one poem of one poet’s poetry,
can be life-changing,
can be scary,
can be life-saving,
and can be all that you have ever wanted –
sometimes the smallest things
can make us the most happy.

Diversity and difference
is what life is built on;
some people can’t help being individualistic,
and some people can’t help being
someone who follows in the same direction of a crowd –
everybody has an inherent nature
that is always turned on,
and everybody knows the power
of both silence and sound.

A whisper can be like a droplet of rain;
a message can be like the downpour of a storm;
an echo can be like a flood of water
that can’t be drained away completely;
an event of epic-proportions
can turn a once dried up river
again into a raging waterfall.

Not everybody listens to a warning
when they first hear it;
the sudden impact of something
can create a crack
that if not filled
will only get worse as time goes on;
it can sometimes be hard
to break a life-time habit;
everyone on Earth shares an irrefutable connection.

Words are an obsession;
music is the language of someone’s heart
made so that all can hear
the dreams and wishes of someone’s soul;
words of every language
can be a source of warmth
on days when the air is cold;
music does not require translation,
because it transcends time and race,
and it will never go out of fashion.

One person’s opinion
can be the deciding factor in something;
one word can mean more than a hundred;
one person can capture your heart forever
when they speak to you,
or when they open their mouth
and their words sing;
one compliment can be to you
the most beautiful poetry;
one war can be won by one knight,
and they can lead and unite an entire army
with one sword;
one seed of an idea
can be but the beginning
of a chain of words
that could grow to become
the most epic of destinies.