Imagination

My Poem ‘The Book People’

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

Every book lover
has their favourite author;
every literary enthusiast
has their favourite book;
every storyteller,
every story reader,
knows that books
are really secret doors;
everyone with an imagination
can go on a journey
and cherish every word,
as if they had never read
a single sentence before.

I love hearing people say:
“oh my god, I love this book!” –
especially from the mouths of the young;
I always smile when I see
a fellow fan of an author
and a book that I love.
Stories have the power
to make you feel something amazing,
to greater depth and effect
sometimes than a song;
there are tales and characters
that shine for me and show me
the way to somewhere I have been looking for –
like the stars that shimmer like glitter
in the dark sky above.

A library is like a gold-mine of riches;
a bookstore is like a fountain of wishes;
a mind is a place where stories become a part of us;
a network of like-minded people is absolutely wondrous;
communication is the best way to feel free and boundless;
language is the supreme method
to teach someone about themselves;
sharing your dreams can inspire the dreams
and the imagination of countless generations;
the world that you live in with everyone else
is full of art that is truly timeless.

Books are meant to be opened and read,
and books are meant to share your life with you,
and they are meant to change as they live their own life –
being carried from place to place
and being held by person to person;
every book and every story, to me, is a limited edition;
any and every book has words and worlds within
that are uniquely special;
everybody has their own attractive qualities,
but to me their is no greater gift and attribute,
and no greater example of enlightened character,
than to be one of the millions of people,
of all ages all around the world,
who happily count themselves
as one of “The Book People”.

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My Poem ‘Deathly Silence’

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

It is very rare
to actually hear the voice of a writer;
every writer is known for their writing style,
their preferred subject matter,
and by the way that they describe something in words;
however, you don’t always get to hear a writer
‘speak’ in their own voice –
to tell you about themselves,
and to get the chance
to introduce yourself to a writer –
because, most of the time,
writers are what they write:
most writers are the characters that they create.
Who a writer actually is as a person
is something that, as a reader, we may never learn.

Most writers enjoy the solitude of their own space,
their own time, their own breathing room,
to be able to successfully descend the elevator
into themselves, and their imagination,
so that they can focus on the puzzle they are figuring out;
most writers have an idea
about what they want to write about,
and what they want to say,
as soon as they begin –
however, if you were to ask a writer:
‘did it turn out exactly as you planned it?’ –
they would most likely laugh in your face;
because writing is a journey,
and, like all great journeys,
unexpected things tend to happen along the way.
Things of great importance should never be rushed,
and a writer will tell you
that “something is done when it is done” –
and allowing for mistakes,
and accepting that sometimes
you might need to change things, is a big help.
In my experience, and in my understanding,
a writer writes much –
however never gets the time, or the opportunity,
to say exactly what they want to say.

Being a writer is like being a god –
who has the power to create new worlds,
and bring to life new characters
and people out of thin-air.
Meeting a writer is an exciting moment –
one filled with genuine adulation, awe, and love,
and you just feel so lucky, fortunate,
and it genuinely feels magical to be in their presence.
No writer will ever truly die,
no author could ever truly be forgotten –
because their stories and creations
will always be somewhere out there.
Even the most amazing, supreme, incredible,
inspiring, prolific, writers
only have a short time
to be who they were born to be,
and to let their voice be heard
by the few or the many,
before they say goodnight for the last time –
and following their sad,
and their always untimely passing,
there always follows a ghostly, magical,
and deathly silence.

In memory of Terry Pratchett

My Poem ‘Cogito ergo sum’

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

When I wake up every morning,
I know that I am poet,
and I want to be a writer;
when I see something,
I am inspired by an idea,
I become, I feel, and I connect,
with what fills and stimulates
my mind and my consciousness;
I take what has been inspired into being
and I run with it all the way
to the end of my imagination;
I find a way to connect the dots
in an imaginative way,
and express what I see
with undivided focus.

I can look at the world
and see any reality that I can imagine;
I can hear a song
and dream of a place, while still awake;
I can see something,
and then get this rush of excitement
deep inside me, that overflows from me,
that feels like I am
about to take a leap from a mountain;
I can feel things
that no one in the world,
no matter how good an actor they were,
could ever fake.

If I were not a writer,
I do not know who I would be;
if I did not write poetry,
I would not be me;
if I were not inspired
and excited about the world
as much as I am,
I think I would be missing a piece of my soul;
if I did not give myself fully
and wholeheartedly to what was right in front of me,
and what made me feel free,
then I would never know or remember
the feeling of the sun on my skin,
and every rainy day
would always be one that was cold.

The first place to start from,
and the first person to know,
is always the place,
and is always the person,
that you know better than anywhere, or anyone,
and you can always rely on the first instinct
and the first thought that comes to your mind;
there is no place you can go
and not see the person in the mirror,
from whom you can never hide;
if you want to know who to be,
if you want to know what to do,
if you want to have faith in something, or someone,
but you just can’t decide what to believe, or who –
close your eyes, know yourself,
and recite to yourself
one of my favourite, and one of the most profound,
latin phrases you could ever know the meaning of:
cogito ergo sum.

My Poem ‘Garden of Inspiration’

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

As everyone gets older life gets harder;
as we watch the changing of the seasons,
we are all reminded how short and precious life is,
for so many reasons;
if you can find happiness and contentment in your life
then you have found the treasure
that has always been meant for you,
and as long as you don’t take what you have for granted
your perfect composure will last forever.

When you have a moment to take in where you are,
and embrace what you are doing,
and why you are where you are,
when you feel like you have
all you could ever think of as amazing;
live in that moment for as long as you can –
because it will be gone before you know it;
keep every detail close to your heart,
like an old faded photo;
wear it like a charm around your neck,
on your wrist, on your finger, or in your pocket;
make every step one that is always worth retracing;
don’t ever let anything go.

The youth of today are used to seeing something,
saying something, experiencing something,
and then forgetting about it;
young people live in the moment,
but they mostly do not give what they are doing
any long-term thinking,
and the effect of their actions can sometimes be a curse –
but they can also and mostly are a blessing;
the days fly away faster when you are younger,
because you are always doing something.
I would encourage everybody, young and old,
to keep a diary, a journal, an album,
that they can hold and add to over time,
because the moments of our lives happen in a flash,
and remembering them in some way
is a way of never taking them for granted.

Everyone has their own escapes;
everyone does something everyday
that deserves to be recognized and talked about;
everyone, no matter how old they are,
should envy anybody who can still see the world
and be captivated by fascination;
everyone can find their idea of perfection
before it is too late;
everyone does not have to settle
for the cards in life they have been dealt;
everyone can plant and watch something
they helped bring to life
grow and become something beyond imagining,
while in the world and within
the garden of inspiration.

My Poem ‘Here be dragons’

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

Legends of dragons
populate and inflame
epics, stories, myths, and traditions,
throughout the world, and have done so for centuries;
dragons of every shape, size, and colour,
have took flight in tales,
and have been imagined in a myriad of ways
by some of Earth’s greatest storytellers of fantasy;
and the characteristic gift of the fire
that a dragon can produce
is something wonderful
that has always fascinated me.

Ever since I was a young boy,
I have known about dragons,
read books that had dragons, or a dragon,
as a character important to the plot of a story,
and I have watched dragons be brought to life,
and I have to say that not for a moment
have I ever felt any sort of fear
at the thought of such a fantastic creature
that perfectly symbolizes a world of magic,
mythology, sorcery, and other-worldly
wonderful creations, that burn in our imaginations,
and allow our ideas of the possible and the impossible
to be eclipsed by the veil
of something and somewhere extraordinary.

Dragons are characterized as spellbinding,
unstoppable, fierce, arrogant,
but also blessed with extreme intelligence,
in almost every story they have been featured in,
and their presence is not one
that should ever be underestimated.
There are many reasons as to why dragons
are still a very important symbol in many cultures,
and there are incredible works of art
that have been created depicting dragons
for thousands of years – and to this day,
the thought and the image of a dragon
is one that will forever resonate.

Every country has written its own literature of dragons,
and many heroes in such heroic and epic tales
of phenomenal bravery have seen the defeat
and the slaying of a dragon as the intended end-result
and the defining act of a quest;
some stories paint dragons as a sign of luck, wealth,
strength, the universe, existence, importance,
pride, and magnificence;
many dragons have been given names,
and their identities are known to more people
than at first might be guessed;
even on maps that were drawn to show
the cartography of the world, as it was thought to appear,
in the places on those maps that were still unexplored,
and may potentially be dangerous,
they had written on them for all the world to read:
“here be dragons”.

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My Poem ‘I Look Above’

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

Above my head,
caught in the branches of a tree,
I see a red balloon –
a former gift and token of love
from one person to another on Valentines day –
that had floated away,
so that it could be seen by me,
so that it could inspire me,
so that I could start a new poem,
while looking at it,
as I wonder where it came from,
who it used to belong to,
who bought it, and how long it will be as it is,
as it was always meant to be –
and as with most things that I witness and see,
I know that the red balloon in the tree
will only be a sight to see
that is temporary.

Above my head, I see clouds of white
that look like a frozen blanket of snow hovering in the air;
above my head, I can hear an invisible airplane –
invisible to sight but not sound,
and the unmistakable noise of travelers on their way;
above my head, there is always something
that I can look up at for hours, and simply stare;
above my head, is a dream of an endless, perfect, day.

As I look above, I remember being above –
I remember being among the clouds
and imagining the sensation of flying like a bird;
as I look above, just as when I remember looking below,
I am frequently lost for words
and in full belief and feeling
that I have all that I could ever want,
and there is nothing more to life
that I need to see or know.

I look above a lot;
I look above, because I cannot yet imagine
seeing or knowing enough;
I look above, because I am reminded
every time that there is more
to a small pin-prick of light
than there might at first appear –
just as there would be more to see
for an extraterrestrial astronomer
looking at the Earth from their observatory
and seeing only a faint blue dot.
The sky is just a veil
to many wonderful and magical things
that cannot be seen with the naked eye,
and that is one of the reasons
that I will continue to look above.

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My Poem ‘Sex’

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

The greatest thing about humanity,
the thing that excites me, inspires me,
drives me, thrills me, and always makes me happy,
is the thought of the infinite
and endless potential of everyone on Earth
to do and to be whoever and whatever they want to be;
no matter their background, skin colour, disposition, or sex –
man, woman, black, or white –
you can achieve what no one would expect;
you can work hard, and do what you love,
and be an inspiration to those who will see you
as a shining example to follow,
and who will want to emulate you,
stick a picture of you up on their wall,
and look at you as their hero.

The long-held misogynistic and sexist views,
opinions, and barriers, have for the most part
been replaced by role-models of both sexes to both sexes,
who give samples of wisdom and templates off possibility
that anyone can see and copy, if they want;
however, anyone who is looked upon as a star
in the eyes of someone else will tell
any budding emulator of their craft
that they first and foremost have to take their own path,
and try not to be too much of a carbon-copy of anyone,
because, as an artist will tell you,
the best art is one that is individual
and personal to the artist who creates it,
and if you just replicate a style, a voice,
a way of being, without your own spark of creativity
infused into the mix, whatever you do
will constantly be missing something:
your touch, your taste, your heart, your imagination,
and everything else that is vital,
that no one else could possibly bring.

Both men and women, of all ages,
can be writers, artists, teachers,
musicians, singers, politicians, magicians,
drivers, divers, astronauts, police officers,
entrepreneurs, builders, designers, chefs,
shop owners, hairdressers, presidents, prime ministers,
celebrities in their own right,
because they are capable
and because they have achieved something extraordinary –
because they felt like they could make a difference to the world,
and even the problems that they may envision
coming face to face with don’t feel too complex,
and as they get closer to the goals
that they and everyone sets themselves,
it will be like achieving something amazing in the best way you can:
by taking every opportunity to show the potential they have inside them,
and focusing, and working hard to steadily make the most
and appreciate every step.
The world can change in such a short period of time,
and what will happen next, and what people will achieve,
will have everything to do with what their heart desires,
and have next to nothing to do
with their colour, creed, upbringing, or sex.

My Poem ‘Let me go, and I will run’

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

It’s fun to let your thoughts drift away from you;
it’s good to let your thoughts run away from you;
it’s exciting to experience your thoughts changing;
it’s incredible to have an idea
that spontaneously pops into your head,
as if from out of nowhere,
which just takes over every other thought of your mind
and function of your body –
and which also becomes all that you can talk about,
and to you it is all that is worth saying.

I have a brand new idea for something,
usually for the title of a new poem,
every hour of every day;
however, of the sixty ideas that I have,
by the end of every hour, they have become one idea,
and by the end of every day –
usually just before I fall asleep –
the first words of a perfect thought,
and the first verse of poetry of my own imagining,
has been ingrained in my consciousness,
and is just waiting to be written,
in my own unique way.

Ideas are important;
every idea that I have ever had
has set my imagination on fire;
ideas are building blocks, as well as foundations;
of all the ideas that I have had,
deciding one day to write down
what was on my mind at the time
was the one muse that is still a constant;
ideas are the offspring of desire;
every idea I have had has enlightened me in some way;
and following the path of an idea,
and taking the journey of the eternal dreamer,
is my way of reaching a higher state of consciousness,
and in a way it is my own form of meditation.

Ever since I was a kid,
I have been used to exerting my body
and using every physical muscle at my disposal
to achieve feats of strength and speed;
as a child, as an adult,
I was off like a shot,
running my heart out to somewhere I needed to get to,
and perhaps to someone in need;
ever since writing has become my passion, my devotion,
my love, and one of the defining parts of my heart, my soul,
my identity, there has not been a day that has gone by
when the question ‘what am I going to write about next?’
has not been uttered by me –
and even now I am asking that question, and answering it also,
and to me there is no more perfect
and beautiful form of writing than poetry.

When I can be myself;
when I am not constrained by glass, brick, wood, metal,
windows, doors, walls, and locks;
when I can step out into the daylight
and feel the beating warmth of the sun;
when I am unaware of time, and I can move with stealth;
when I am thinking wholly, completely,
and tantalizingly, out of the box;
when I can cut the strings and the ties
of anything that might be holding me, my mind,
my imagination, back in any way –
I promise you, world: let me go, and I will run.

My Poem ‘Another Life’

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

Do I dare dream of another life?
Do I dare to think about what could be?
Do I dare to make real the dreams that I dream every night?
Do I dare to feel what I feel when I see what I see?

Uncertainty can be scary;
when you can’t see the other side of something,
you might as well be staring into a singularity;
if you don’t run, and jump head-first into the unknown,
you may never know what is out there;
if you don’t try your hardest at something,
you may not realize just how much you care.

Things can sometimes be covered over from view from you,
as if under a blanket of thick white snow –
and unless you dig deep there might be some things
you might not discover, and never know.
Life gives us all signposts to follow,
but most people miss them when they first look;
if you believe in something,
if you believe in yourself,
if you believe that you have something to offer –
then you can do and be anything:
a soldier; a teacher; a writer,
who has the opportunity to put his stories,
imagination, and dreams, on paper
and see them proliferate all over the world,
as the printed words of the author of a book.

Anything is possible.
The world, and the people of this day and age,
have made it so that anyone can achieve their dreams.
Life, and the human heart, is fragile – but also powerful;
and if you were to spend a day and a night
watching the cycle of life you would understand the calling
that doctors and nurses know, hear, and see,
when they work a shift at a hospital.
Just because something appears as if it is done, at first glance,
it doesn’t mean that the spirit of something
you thought was gone won’t rise again from the flames.

For the rest of your life,
you can keep asking why? until the day you die –
but while you are doing that
you may miss the answer you have been looking for;
sometimes in life you have to go out
and find that spark that you need,
because it won’t always and spontaneously knock on your door;
so if you are thinking about giving something a try,
by all means do it if it feels right to you –
because that just might be the first step that you need to take
to finding and having another life.

My Poem ‘The Missing’

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

We all deserve to be happy;
we all deserve to find what we have been looking for;
we all deserve to feel and to see;
we all deserve to have what we adore;
however, deserving something does not mean having,
and no matter how much you want something
there comes a time when we all have to accept life’s reasoning
for keeping something out of our grasp –
and that is why some things and some dreams,
no matter how heart-breaking the thought of letting them go is,
you have to allow them to stay where they are,
and the place where they must remain
and exist is solely in the past.

It’s hard to imagine what you can do
when life doesn’t go the way you had always planned;
it’s hard to see a new path
when you feel like you are trying to survive day to day
on a boat, floating on an ocean, miles away from land –
and when there is no land map that you can rely on
to show you the way, you then have to turn your head upwards
and use the light and the constellations of the stars
and the sun above in the sky to lead you
to the nearest rocky or sandy bay.

It is only in times of loss and confusion
that we mostly have to rely on our instincts
to be the source of our salvation;
it is only when we feel like we are going around in circles,
and spinning rather than moving, do we look for a route out
and away to a better place;
it is only when the mirror of our life gets smashed
do we see and realize that everyone’s life
sometimes has a time when it is in a state of reflection fragmentation;
it is only when we see, meet, and talk to those
who have had some troubles, problems, and worries in their life,
do we truly accept that we are human,
and struggle, hardship, perseverance, staying hopeful,
holding on to what matters to us, to keep going, keep trying,
never giving up, are the building blocks
of everything amazing and incredible and worthwhile,
and the defining make up and nature
of every member of the human race.

Have a dream to hold on to always;
have a motivation to make you want to achieve
what you want to achieve;
have an imagination, and try to see many avenues at-once,
because you can sometimes miss things
when you only travel in one direction all the time,
and explore and see things in multiple ways;
have the courage to hope for the best,
even when something seems hard to believe;
look, listen, learn, love, laugh;
try, trek, talk, take a chance to change things,
to smooth things over where before they were rough;
fail, fall, forgive, forget, be fearless,
and see the full meaning of everything;
make, mark, maintain, magnify,
and I promise you will find what you have been missing.