journey

My Poem ‘The Light of Me’

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

The light of my eyes,
the light in my heart,
the light in my mind,
the light of my soul,
the words of my poetry,
the beautiful perfection of my muse,
the hope that I feel and see,
the rhyme, the reason,
the redemption, the revelation,
for everything that I do;
the way that I write;
the way that I walk;
the voice that is all mine;
the phenomenal and the inspiring
answer that always returns my call.

When I first began writing,
I knew that I had found my path;
when I first sat down
to write that very first verse,
it felt so natural,
and yet I was nervous;
when I first discovered
that I had something inside me
that could touch the heart of someone else,
it only made me want to feel,
think, and write more and more –
I knew that my first poem
would not and could not be my last;
when I first opened my heart
and I saw my words come to life
and grow one by one
until they become a poem
and a part of me that I loved,
I knew that my instinct
for seeing the hopeful and the good
in almost every and any situation
was one that, above every other,
I should listen to and trust.

As soon as I knew that I was a poet,
at that instant my entire world changed –
it was a perfect moment
when everything fell into place,
it was a time in and of my life
that I will never forget;
it might sound silly,
but I did not know what to do –
I did not question
my newly discovered super-power,
however it was like starting a journey
to somewhere and to something
that was to me beautifully brand new.

My thoughts changed, my feelings changed,
and I felt like a new man;
I met new people, I made new friends,
and I felt like I now had the happy thought
that would allow me to fly
with joy and excitement, like Peter Pan.
The universe opened up like a natural history book,
and so many details and secrets
that I had missed before about the world
started to pop up;
people started to speak to me
and say so much to me
with the power of a single look;
my dreams became epic adventures;
my experiences felt more profound
and worthy of being shared in poetry;
my creativity was met with love
and gratitude which alleviated
any and all of my fears;
my entire life as poet began
when I looked into a mirror,
and I saw looking back at me
was who I really was,
and what I saw was the light of me.

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My Poem ‘Imagine like Lennon’

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

Dreamers never stop dreaming,
dreamers take great comfort
and they feel great joy
in the knowledge
that they are not the only ones;
imagineers never stop imagining,
and because their thoughts,
dreams, and hopes never stop coming
and flowing, miraculous new discoveries
and ideas come to light
and are allowed to shine
all over the world on the eyes
and from the hearts of countless people,
as if they were new born stars and suns.

An artist in an artist from birth;
a storyteller is a reader of other stories
by other writers, who has always felt
compelled to create stories of their own
and take people on a journey;
many artists have sought inspiration from above,
like the first drop of rain
that began all the oceans of Earth;
to be who you are meant to be in all walks of life,
and in all stages of creativity and evolution,
everybody must be able to just be.

There is a moment, there is a spark,
there is a light, that brightens the dark,
there is an instant of change,
there is a time to step back
and rethink and reinvent,
there is sometimes one perfect expression
that is beyond any and all words
that could ever fill a single page;
there must be a world within you
where you can go to that is even more
limitless and boundless than the universe,
where your inner identity can run free;
there must be an outlet for you to do what you know;
there is always someone who has a great many things
in common with you, in any and every direction
to every degree;
there is always a side to you
that you cannot completely show.

Being a poet is like being a player
of an imaginary instrument
that only you have the knowledge
and the gift to be able to play
as exquisitely as it can possibly be played;
musicians of physical instruments
are able to play their music
and give rise to vibrations
that literally can touch and speak
to the blood, the heart-beats,
and the very core and source of who someone is;
if some things were tangible,
instead of being unbelievably fragile,
and if not everything that meant the most
was not sometimes a struggle,
then there would always be something missing –
however, that is often the case
when choosing a course that is the most
untroublesome and easy;
to dare to dream is to take a chance on a risk.

Heroes are important;
music is a miracle;
every experience is a lesson;
you cannot always have, or get, what you want;
life is too phenomenal to shut yourself away from it –
to enjoy living to the fullest is essential;
greatness cannot be attained alone,
nor can you know or call yourself great –
those who truly know us are the only ones
who can describe us and tell us who we are;
to me, music is where inspiration lives
how we are all supposed to live;
to me, music is heaven, and anyone and everyone
who can feel the meaning of music
deep inside them knows how life-changing
and world-changing it is in all its infinite forms;
and that is why music is so important to me –
because it inspires me to dream like Dylan,
to think like Einstein,
and to imagine like Lennon.

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 ‘Wanderlust’

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

I am a ‘wanderbird’,
I am a traveler;
when I look up at the moon,
and I see it split in-two –
one side as white and beautiful
as the colour of snow,
and the other side of the moon
obscured by shadow –
I imagine a writer, or an artist,
in the future on the surface of the moon
looking back at the Earth,
trying to capture its magnificent beauty
in photography, in a painting,
or in a verse of poetry;
and I wonder what a poetic astronaut
would think about themselves, where they are,
and what the sacred home of the human race means.

Whenever I have looked up at the moon,
I have never been able to stop myself
from wishing that I were there;
if someone were to offer me
a ticket to the moon,
so that I could look back with love
at our beautiful blue marble,
I would suit-up,
and be in the cockpit of the rocket like a shot!

I am an explorer,
I always have been – even if it were only
imagined journeys that I embarked upon,
every expedition was one that I was excited about,
and nothing was going to stop me;
I have always been a great navigator –
I have always been able to find my way
to where I wanted to go,
and even from a young age
I understood there where you are going
is not the important part:
the thing that makes you who you are is the journey.

Looking at the stars
has always made me want to travel between them
and see interstellar sights
that would defy explanation, or description;
the sky, the heavens, the galaxy, the universe,
is where my head has always been –
because, above the clouds and on other worlds,
to me that is where adventure awaits;
the thought of what lies in the dark
has always filled me with fascination;
the future of humanity
is something that I care about,
and where we are all going as a planet
is something that I think a lot about.

The Earth is special;
our world is the only one we have;
no matter how many planets we discover,
nor where our star treks take us,
the planet we live on will always be
the most wonderful and beautiful,
and the life that is unique
and can only be found
on this blue and green sphere
will always be the end of our celestial path.

There is more to the universe than we know;
there is more to life to be learned
than can be taught in a rush;
there are things that are universally important
to remember, no matter who you are or where you go;
there is a word to describe people like me
who live every day with an impulse in their heart
and a love for life like no other:
I am constantly in a state of unbelievable
‘Wanderlust’.

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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 ‘Where art endows’

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

As soon as I boarded the train to London;
as soon as I set foot on the bustling platform
at Euston Station;
as soon as I rode the tube to Bakers Street;
as soon as I looked down at the wet pavement
shining under the shadow of a statue
dedicated to ‘The Great Detective’,
I saw art in everything above me,
everything around me,
and everything underneath my feet,
and the art that I saw left me breathless
because it was so epic.

When I was a child,
I used to look at the cover of The Beatles’ album
‘Abbey Road’ and imagine that I was John Lennon –
dressed all in white, and the one to lead
Ringo, Paul, and George over the crossing
to the other side of the road;
and, while in London, I decided
to follow in the footsteps
of the greatest band that ever was
and go to ‘Abbey Road’,
walk over the famous zebra-crossing –
and I swear that while I was there
I felt incredibly emotional
and so privileged to be there,
and I absolutely felt an abundance of love:
because even though I was walking across by myself,
I didn’t for a second feel alone.

The London Underground is like a warren of rabbits,
a hill of ants, or a hive of bees –
there is so much activity,
and there are so many people
traveling from place to place all over the city,
and everybody is in such a rush;
if you are a daily commuter,
keeping calm and knowing where you are going is a must.
Traveling on the tube is exciting –
everything and everybody I saw
were different from each other,
and to me wonderfully inspiring:
my fellow commuters fascinated me –
all the conversations that I heard,
and all the faces that I saw looking back at me,
were like feeling the pulse of the city,
and it was like the people were the blood
and the plasma of London
traveling down tube tunnels
that made me think of a human bodies
blood-vessels and arteries.

When I first arrived at Trafalgar Square,
and I looked up at Nelson’s Column
towering above two giant statues of Lions
that were the size of two large cars,
as soon as I saw the sight
of the beautiful National Portrait Gallery,
I could literally see hundreds of people outside –
and each person looked to me
like the peaks and waves of a multicolored sea.

While in the National Portrait Gallery,
I found myself completely in-awe
at the beautiful artwork within
which can be found through every open door,
and when I stood in front of Vincent Van Gogh’s
“Sunflowers” painting I was completely entranced
by its magnificence – and every second that I spent
gazing at Van Gogh’s masterpiece of art,
I felt connected to it, and to Vincent Van Gogh
so deeply and profoundly, that I am still engulfed
in the power and the feeling that comes
when you touch something that is
the source of so much inspiration and energy.

From the gallery, I then searched,
and caught a train to Soho,
and eventually came across a wall
that had a piece of art painted on it
by the graffiti artist “Banksy” –
and as soon as I looked at the amazing
piece of modern, incredible,
thought-provoking art that symbolized,
at least to me, the creation of beauty
through self-expression,
in the form of the painted outline of a yellow flower,
I was reminded of another incredible artist
that I had seen earlier,
and the day at that moment came full-circle,
and I knew that everything was connected,
and the world was, and is, a gallery of artistic destiny.

On my way home from London,
I mused and I could not stop thinking
about what I had seen and what I had heard,
and what I had felt during the time
that I had been drawn
from one side of the city to the other,
and I wondered what it all meant.
As I sit here now,
I know, as I have always known and believed,
that things in life do not happen by accident:
I know that the world and I
are connected in ways
that no one else but me will ever know.
In this world there are places with many people
living and working in them
that are fountains of inspiration on so many levels,
and every day I see sources of energy that inspire me –
and that is why I return to certain places time after time,
because these sources and places are exquisite art
that will forever continue to endow me and everybody.

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My Poem ‘One for the road’

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

When we are about to set out
and head down a road somewhere,
we all need something to take with us
and drive us forward as we go;
when we are about to make a move
into the wild open air,
we all sometimes need a talisman
that, as our journey evolves,
may become more important to us
than at first we could ever know.

I have always been fascinated
by the sayings and the slogans
of “bumper-stickers” that you sometimes see,
and can read, on the outside of a car, a van, or a truck –
mostly on the roads of the United States of America;
I cannot remember all the insightful things that I have read,
however most of the bumper stickers’ messages
that have adorned the vehicles that I have seen,
to me, are the things that perfectly capture
their drivers, and give a small insight
into who they are.

A favourite book to read along the way;
a memorable album of music to listen to
that always carries you like a wave;
a favourite drink that can keep you wide-eyed
and ready for what awaits you;
the memory of someone, whose face makes you as happy
to see them as a sky of bright-blue.

The road ahead could be anything;
where you are going could be anywhere;
the road ahead could mean anything;
where you are going might be
just the beginning of a story
that you may one day want to share.

One thing can come to mean everything;
one moment can spark into life something amazing;
one word, one phrase, can come to have
profound significance to you,
and can even become your own personal code;
one totem, one symbol, can be all that you need,
when what you want is simply
one for the road.

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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 ‘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 ‘Reading is Believing’

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

Libraries are closing everywhere I look;
the doors of places of knowledge and wonder
are being closed shut, like the covers of there books;
our breathtaking banks of inspiration are no longer protected;
I one day fear that children will miss out
on a magical and life-empowering experience,
should our libraries evaporate into a cloud of numbers and frequencies,
and as a result the future of the world will be affected.

Every day I hear about another library
under threat from being turned into a “used to be”;
every day I see people reading and entranced in a story;
every day I see people in bookstores being drawn to books
by their title and the incredible art of their covers;
every day adults and children fall in love with books
and characters for the first time –
thanks to teachers, friends, family members, fathers, and mothers.

Every second a new writer, a brand new story-teller, is born,
and continues the story of humanity;
every baby who is brought up to loving parents,
in an incredible family, is introduced to reading,
and sharing ideas, from almost the day
that they get to sleep in their own bed;
every experience has its own voice,
and some have even been reinterpreted in the form of a novel,
and then adapted into a movie.

There is no more sad or depressing story, to me,
than that of a nearby town thinking about closing a library;
I never want to see a day when the only way that words can be read
is strictly and exclusively electronically –
digital books are great, but they will never have the life-span,
or the story and journey, of a physical book,
and that is the way it will always be.

Libraries are islands of tranquility;
books are the legacy of hope, history, tragedy,
that also still carry the story and the DNA of its parent tree;
reading a book is a personal passion for some people,
and to me there is no better place to see the belief
that reading is believing than in paper books,
that are like reading every person who has ever lived’s diary;
and that is why I believe it is everyone’s duty and responsibility
to do all they can to save the libraries.

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