life

My Poem ‘The Force’

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

The galaxy has no boundary,
the stars of our galactic family
are bound to each other by gravity –
but the real magic energy,
that makes everything what it is, we can’t see,
because the energy field that surrounds us all
and links every atom in our body
with those of the worlds trees
is the same that can be found
within the heart of every star
ever born that has ever shined,
which is a force that makes life,
the universe, everything possible,
which we can all feel everywhere every second
that stretches in every direction infinitely.

I have believed since I was a kid
that you should always trust your feelings,
and you should always reach
as far and as high as you can,
and never give up on being
who and what you want to be –
because anyone can do so much
and can have what they need
to bring them happiness,
if for all the days of their life
they never once stop believing.

The universe, like people, has a memory
that is the best there will ever be,
and it also thinks, plans, and experiments
from time to time, and ultimately
it wants everything and everyone to live in harmony,
in serenity, and to be free to be happy,
and understand that moments of contentment
and love are precious, and every moment
will never happen the same way again –
so you must embrace the world
and its gifts of wonderful
and phenomenal improbability.

Some of the best things
that have ever happened in your life,
perhaps even your birth,
were not planned –
but their effect will be long-remembered,
as long as the Earth is a beautiful blue light
in the dark for outer-space observers
and a paradise for those of us
who are blessed to walk its lands
and sail and swim its waters.
Nature is all about maintaining a vital balance
between the light and the dark,
between choice and fate,
between the river and the source,
and every time I feel something
that I know is special and powerful
I throw everything of myself around it
and I make it a part of me
and I feel like a sword of light
perfectly in balance with understanding
and with intense feeling
of the great and eternal
not to be underestimated
power of the force of life.

My Poem ‘Thirteen o’clock’

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

The clock has struck one too many times,
it is now thirteen o’clock,
there is a splinter in my mind,
time itself has stopped,
the past is a fantasy,
the future is an open and wide new country,
reality is broken,
the mirror of reflection has shattered,
I feel like I have awoken
and I am having to call into question
what truly matters.

There is an old riddle
about what you should do
if a clock strikes thirteen,
and the answer to that riddle
is to “get a new clock”;
there are many times in a person’s life
when they have to stand and stop,
look back, look forward,
not knowing where to go and where to turn,
as if in a state of shock;
revelations of ourselves
that occur to us should not be feared,
but they must be questioned;
mistakes are not always a bad thing –
sometimes they can be vital lessons.

There is a legend that says
that if a man hears a clock strike
thirteen times he can save his own life
or someone else’s;
I believe that the thirteenth strike
is when the true picture
of how the world truly is can be seen
by an instant amalgamation
of the fragmented pieces.

Today, right now, for me,
it is thirteen o’clock;
as I remember the road that I have walked and my path,
a shadow shrouds the events of my past as I look back;
it occurs to me that I have been here before,
and that perhaps the thirteenth strike
is the life I have been living within
every second for years;
time and life are like a time-piece,
and they can only function correctly
when going in the right direction –
and for every ‘tick’ there must follow a ‘tock’;
the spin and the orbit of the Earth around the sun
is constant, and I realize that I too
must keep my momentum going and I must
never contently stop.
There is only one way
to know true happiness:
to break free, however you can,
from the everlasting time
of thirteen o’clock.

My Poem ‘The Beach’

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

It has been a beautiful day;
it has been a day to remember
in so many ways;
the sparkling and the warm sand
beneath my feet that I am sitting on
feels amazing;
the glistening golden sea
that looks as if it could be
the surface of the sun –
because it looks in every way
like an ocean of pure energy –
is breathtaking;
as I look out and I see
the most beautiful and unbroken blue sky,
my heart skips a beat;
as I close my eyes,
I am transported in my mind
to a deserted island,
surrounded by palm trees –
in my imagination, I am a castaway
living a life free to be
whomever I want to be –
I have no worries,
I have no distractions,
I am self-sustaining
and I live off and alongside nature
and every day I walk my island paradise
and I swim in the beautiful blue sea;
I read the books that I brought with me,
and I daily write down what I see –
what I think about and what I feel
about life in my journal and diary;
I listen to the sound of the waves
and each one is like the voice of an old friend
stopping by to say ‘hello’;
I hear the music of my youth
playing from out of nowhere;
and when I think about the outside world,
and about my friends and family living their lives
far away, their faces appear
as if sculpted by the billion of grains
of sand that I see below me.

My hair is long;
my beard is substantial;
my skin is brown;
my home is a hand-built house
of cut down trees that has a roof of green
and hard-wearing leaves;
from my favourite spot,
looking out at my favourite view,
I have seen unimaginable sights:
dolphins, turtles, whales;
just off the coast, below the waves,
there is the most stunning
and beautiful coral reef.

To me, this place is heaven;
to me, this life could not be anymore perfect;
to me there is nowhere else in the entire world
where you could see the sun rise and the sun set,
and lay down on your back and see
a 360-degree view of the Milky-way galaxy’s
infinite and magnificent stars
shining their incredible and magical light,
in a place that is in every way
the definition of idyllic.

In my daydream, I look to the oncoming waves
and I see something bobbing up and down
before being washed up on the beach in front of me
and within touching distance of the toes of my feet;
I am not phased by the sight of the plastic bottle
and the evident message on a piece of paper
that is contained within –
however, when I reach down for the bottle
and I unscrew the lid and I reach in
and pull out the piece of paper,
it takes me awhile to realize
the messages’ meaning
because of how profound
the four-words of it are,
it takes a while to sink in.

I am brought back to reality in a flash!
As I look at the world, and to the sea,
everything looks even more stunning
and beautiful than it had appeared before.
Still with the message from my daydream
echoing in my mind like a bell,
I decide to write the same message
in pen on a torn-out page
from my nearby journal…
I write the same message
in the same way as it had appeared to me
only seconds before in my imagination,
and then I put the message
in an empty bottle of water
that I had brought with me earlier,
I stand up,
I run towards the ocean
and I throw my message in a bottle out
as far as I can
for someone to find in the future,
for someone to discover and read;
and then I sit back down
and I watch the sea again,
and I am again taken away
to a far-away place –
all the while, I am sitting in the sun
on the sand of this gorgeous beach.

My Poem ‘One of those days’

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

Today is one of those days
when wherever you look
the sun is in your eyes;
today is one of those days
when you want to walk
barefoot in the park
on the soft green grass;
today is one of those days
when nature comes alive for everyone
and anybody can bask
in the beauty of the world;
today is one of those days
when things happen that are beyond words;
today is one of those days
when people are having picnics;
today is one of those days
when the colours of the flowers
and the intense blue of the sky
glows as if they were exemplifying
the meaning of nature;
today is one of those days
that is perfect for a scoop or two of ice-cream;
today is one of those days
when children feel in their element;
today is one of those days
which feels like it is a dream;
today is one of those days
which feels like a constant banquet
to all your senses;
today is one of those days when everyone
should be outside in the sun;
today is one of those days
that is perfect for having all kinds of fun;
today is one of those days
when you can sit down and write,
paint, read, and listen to the world
and feel content;
today is one of those days
that is meant to be shared
because it is one of those days
that reminds everybody what is truly important;
today is one of those days
when I look around and I remember
memories of similar days
that looked as beautiful as today;
today is one of those days
which are precious to me in so many ways;
today is one of those days
when I feel intoxicated
by the energy of the sun’s rays;
today is one of those days…

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My Poem ‘Holographic’

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

Beyond what you see,
further than the horizon,
above the clouds,
above the trees,
in the art at the heart of the universe,
in the colours of the galaxy
that can only be seen from Earth with a telescope,
there is layer upon layer of light and colour –
particles of dust, laboratories of gas,
cocktails of elements,
when observed from a particular vantage-point
come together to make a picture
that is a piece of art
that has been millions of years in the making
that will slowly change over time
and evolve to be something else,
just as everything else must
that is connected to nature.

The things we see can sometimes be an illusion –
a hologram, a figment and a combination
of our vision and our imagination,
as well as our emotions,
and if you were to see the same thing
from a reversed-angle, looking back,
you would see a completely different picture
with radically different connotations.

Many things can be a trigger for great creativity;
many experiences can be spectacles
that can inspire great art;
many things must first happen in a poets life
for them to write epic poetry;
many life-changing infernos began burning
because of a well-time spark.

A face is always but a mask;
a book cover is but an entrance below
to a trove of treasure;
every planet with life
is a pearl of infinite complexity
in an ocean of dark;
a name is but a teaser
to something greater and deeper.

A library is a hive alive
with story-lovers, and story-tellers;
an art gallery is where those who
want to appreciate art and visual poetry
can go to be awestruck by a kindred spirit
that lived perhaps centuries before they were born;
everything has a story to it,
everyone has had to be a part of a journey
that may at times have been unpredictable and frenetic;
a market of any type is the best place
to see a snap-shot of an echo of something
that is primordially interstellar;
new artists rise with every new dawn;
everything that you catch with your eyes
is a layer of space and time
that exists in a universe
that when seen for all its components and projections
is fundamentally holographic.

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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 ‘For the record’

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

Like the Earth orbiting the sun;
like the solar system
spinning around the core of the galaxy;
like the sounds that can be heard
while listening to the noise
of the interstellar background;
like the racing heart beat
of somebody out on a run;
like the natural soundtrack of life
that you can hear and feel
which you can imagine with great detail
without needing to see it;
like the sound of waves crashing on a beach;
when you listen to the music
that sings to your soul
and inhabits your heart
that has been recorded
in the most exquisite quality possible –
in memory, on CD, on vinyl,
the spirit of the music, the artist,
the magic and the depth of the human mind
and body gives you back every time
something you wait with anticipation
to be found so that it may
again and again resound
and make you feel as if
your feet have left the ground.

People love music;
music is so adored and worshiped
it is like a religion;
music can inspire people to be
and to do anything:
to be brave, to be thoughtful,
to be artistic, to be prolific;
everyone knows what their favourite song
or piece of music is,
and everybody has a personal
and a profound reason for why
their song is their song.

Music has been a part of our lives
since we were born;
albums and artists have been talking to us
and taking us to our dreams
since we heard our first old-favourite;
music is at the centre of our universe
that rotates just as fast
as the grooves of a vinyl album on a turntable;
listening to music is always a blessing,
and never a chore;
there is so much music that has been created
that is epic and great;
music is a gateway to an astoundingly-beautiful
and magical world.

Music is the eternal and universal love
that everybody and anybody can enjoy
and be blessed with their entire lives;
music is what we all share
an invisible connection to
and are attached to every second
by an unbreakable umbilical-cord;
music is the abundant source of energy
that makes life what it is,
just as much as the sun’s light;
music is the single most important,
meaningful and memorable thing
that the human race will be remembered for
by future generations and fellow space-travelers –
and all we do will live on forever
as our greatest monument of ourselves
for the record.

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My Poem ‘Artistscope’

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

When you have a gift
you need to show it;
when you have a natural talent
you need to share it;
when you have a personality
that is wonderful and magnetic
you need to let your light shine;
when you look at life
and you are instantly attracted
to its amazing wonders,
especially if you are an artist,
then you need to capture
those miracles of the world
and of your imagination
and give them everlasting life.

Artists are the most amazing,
phenomenal, sensitive, wonderful
and expressive people you will ever meet,
and every time I make a connection
with a fellow artist I become inspired
just by seeing, sensing,
and touching their spirit;
some people understand art,
and some people don’t –
but one of the most incredible gifts
of an artist is their exceptional power
to distinctively emote;
there are artists living
on every continent on Earth,
and every one has their own
unique style and way
of expressing themselves through their art,
and every artist’s art is always influenced
and infused by what surrounds them
and the studio that is also their home.

You can watch an artist
make art wherever you are;
you can see the passion, the love,
the heart of an artist who creates
masterpieces one after another,
like the awesome LA artist Amanda Oleander,
thousands of miles away
thanks to the instantaneous technology
of the 21st century;
you can be witness to an immersive,
profound and defining moment for you
and for an artist and give them a part of you
and be with them in spirit
every second of every day of the week –
from Monday to Sunday.

Art is not bound by time,
nor are it’s artists;
art is happening 24-hours a day,
7 days a week, 365 days a year,
and art in so many of its forms
can make you smile, inspire your dreams,
make you feel something you have never felt,
and it can bring you to tears.
I feel blessed to have known
and to have met artists from all walks of life,
from all around the world,
who truly inspire me every day
with the amazing things that they were born to do;
I look to my fellow artists
when I want to see and feel empowered with hope;
art can and will always change the world,
and if you are not an artist
and you want to bring the most spectacular
rainbow of colour into your life
seek out an artist and prepare to be amazed
and awestruck by what you see
when you look through their artistic periscope.

My Poem ‘Heavy’

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

My eyes are heavy;
the time is getting late;
I have just enough inspiration
and energy to write something poetic;
I feel like I am going to be
‘out like a light’ any minute now –
but before I do drift off to sleep
like a boat down a river,
I wanted to write something
about life, dreams, and as always
something about me.

I come to everything
with an open mind
and an open heart;
I face everything
expecting a hopeful and optimistic resolution;
I always get up strong after I have fallen hard;
I keep going no matter what,
because that is my everlasting constitution.

Life, the world, people, fascinate me
and amaze me every day –
I learn something new about something
and someone daily;
one thing that I have learned
is that there is no telling
as you live your life
who you are going to meet
and talk to along the way;
one motto to live by
that I have always liked,
which is also the motto
of the U.S. state of New Hampshire,
is to “Live Free or Die” –
and if that motto could sum up a particular person,
it would have to be me.

I love to talk;
I love to share;
I love to walk;
I love to dare.
The freedom to be who I want to be
means more to me than anything,
and I think that most people take their freedom
to do, to love, to buy,
to express, to have whatever they want for granted –
but I don’t and I never will,
because at any moment anything could happen,
and taking an actual account of what you say
to me is very important.

Words are a promise;
words are a declaration;
words are indelible to some people;
words cannot say everything,
but that does not stop them
from being and sounding magical.
I have loved words since I first earned to read;
I have taken people for their word,
and I have unfortunately on occasion been led astray;
I think about words when I dream at night in bed;
I am always listening and remembering
the words that came out of peoples mouths,
even if they don’t themselves –
a single sentence has repeatedly
been read and recited over and over again
by me in the past for days after days.

I am about to fall asleep,
I can feel a wave of fatigue cover me like a duvet;
I am about to be carried away, and sink beneath;
I can’t remember all that I was going to write
and what I was going to say –
however, I don’t think that it matters:
I think and I believe that the simple act of writing,
thinking, remembering, and dreaming
is enough justification, if there needed to be one,
for me to be who I am, doing what what I am doing;
and if there is to be one last thought
that could become a monument of today
it would have to be this poem –
a piece of me, a method of madness,
a beating heart, which is also the source
of all joy and sadness –
which for me is always heavy.

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.