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My Poem “A Stream of Starlight”

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

As I slept last night
I composed the poem of my life –
but when I woke up
and I opened my eyes
all the words and the imagery
that I dreamt about
disappeared and returned
to the world from whence
they came, locked away
deep inside where I can
never find again,
without form, without memory,
without words, without time…
each and every one of us
live every day of our lives
riding the waves and existing
in the wake of dreams
that are as wistful
and as ethereal as the rainbow
of colour that comprises
a stream of starlight.

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My Poem “Multicolored”

Mark Hastings life, music, Poetry , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Everybody is an individual,
a person, a spectrum of many colours
throughout their life…
no one can help what body they are born into…
everybody constantly hopes to be able
to one day express themselves
in the way that they want to
without feeling abnormal and as if
who they are on the outside
is not meant to fit in with
how the world is, how it is meant to be,
and how it is meant to look…
no one has the right to be able
to tell anyone that they cannot
be who and what they want to be.

Music is life, life is music –
and people in all their many colours
and with all their individualistic
facets are who make the music of life
as rich as it is, and without all
the many pioneers of individualism
and the proponents of staying true
to what you believe
then the world as we know it would not exist.

The best of humanity, the icons of history
who will be revered forever,
the ground-breakers who knew
even before they learned how to talk
that they were special, different,
anomalous, and exceptional
because they saw the world
and the question posed to them
without the jadedness of a dark cloud
of preconceptions hanging over them –
they are the ones who have always been
responsible for giving our world
the gift of pure inspiration,
ingenuity, and innovation
in the many levels of every day life
that different people live upon.

The best stories ever written
are of extraordinary people
overcoming a stereotypical boundary
that ultimately leads everybody
who learns of their story
to be inspired and choose to emulate them
and follow in their footsteps…
I believe that if you are someone
who is “different” from everybody else
then you should feel proud…
monsters, trolls, and bullies are different
and they are treated differently –
which is why people who suffer
from being singled out
often plague others with the same toxicity
as they are daily exposed to.

In my opinion, if you are different
from everybody else then
you truly are “special”
in every sense of the word –
and I have always believed that
when you embrace you own
individual eccentricities
then you may find that you share
more with other people around the world
who already know who and what they are
and who choose to let the light of their
multicolored soul shine like
the constituents of depth
that give light to a star.

My Poem “Personal Heaven”

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

Heaven is a moment of time…
Heaven is a person of love and light…
Heaven is a song of truth that
touches your heart as well as your mind…
Heaven is a source of passion and inspiration
that artists constantly mine…
Heaven is a cloud of thoughts,
impulses, memories, and observations
that combine to make an internal
ocean of infinite depths
to which anybody can dive.

Heaven can be found within the soul of a person…
Heaven can be found in the way
that a someone makes you feel…
Heaven is whatever someone considers
to be breathtaking, magical,
wonderful, and beautiful.

Heaven is often not just
what someone can feel
but what in truth cannot be touched
or put into words…
Heaven is the world within you
that you discover over the course of your life
which stays with you and which unfolds
before you when you fall off
the precipice of this life
and you start living the life
within the world of your own personal heaven.

My Poem “Broad Daylight”

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

From the moment that sunlight touches something,
from the instant of sunrise
when the first waves of energy
crest above the horizon,
from the first golden halo
that shines like that of an angel’s light –
every day, everybody witnesses a miracle,
a new beginning, an encore, a beacon of truth,
a light as old as the universe,
a super-star in every sense of the word,
that gives everything and everybody on this planet
a means and a reason to be
who and what they want to be…
the sun that shines above us
is more powerful and more influential
than we sometimes realize…
the sun is so potent,
and yet so destructive in so many ways,
that when we are outside and we are incorporating
its energy into our biology –
similarly to how a plant uses the sun
to convert its light into chemical energy
by way of photosynthesis –
we sometimes have to protect our skin
and shield our eyes to protect our vision.

During the hours of moonlight
colour is at a premium
and the limited sources of light
that can be found
often make everything appear
as if they were straight out of a
black and white film or a photograph…
from morning to evening,
even on a cloudy afternoon,
the light of day is bright
and perfectly exemplifies
the beauty of nature in all its glory,
and the colour spectrum of the universe
truly comes into its own
and is able to display
so many things in so many ways.

Light is a means of survival…
light gives birth to life,
and life gives birth to light…
some people can live in some places
where it is dark and find contentment
surrounded by distant stars –
but the best time and the only time
to truly experience the kaleidoscope of life
is when you open your eyes
and the world opens up to you,
when there is blue sky above you,
when there are dreams coming true,
and when there is an unending
overabundance of broad daylight.

My Poem “The World keeps going”

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

Heading down the highway,
as a black and yellow Ford Mustang flies past me,
as a blue and white airplane flies overhead
and comes into a landing at a nearby airport,
as the early morning sky glows bright blue,
and as the early morning sun breaks through,
shines its light, and creates places
that glow and are warm, and also places
that are colder because they are cast in shadow…
There is such a hive of activity for such an early hour…
There is such a palpable momentum
in so many people’s actions…
There are so many examples to be seen
of people repeating the same cycle…
There are so many examples of people
acting without having to think…
There are so many early birds out and about…
There are so many people with a job to do…
There are so many people driven by a purpose…
There are so many people driven by a thirst…
There are so many people
compelled by the same energy
that drives everybody on Earth…
There are so many people with a gift…
There are so many people with a curse…
There are so many people with intentions,
plans, ideas, who embody
the same creative aspirations
as I believe God had when he created the universe…
The day has only just begun –
but already the travellers are already traveling,
the homeless living on the streets are already begging,
the shoppers are already shopping,
the readers are already reading,
the writers are already writing,
the actors are already acting,
parents are already looking after there children,
friends are already sharing their time with one another,
and the world is already doing
what the world does best, no matter the snow,
no matter the cold – like Groundhog Day:
the world keeps going.

My Poem “Orb”

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

Orb of light, Orb of life,
Orb shining brightly in the sky…
Orb of wonder, Orb of power,
Orb that makes the world go round…
we dare not stare directly at you…
Orb of worship, Orb of beauty,
Orb of warmth –
even from far away
your dominance over all of us
will forever be unmatched…
Orb of blessings, Orb of day,
Orb of celestial fire,
we who live under your glare
are here because of you –
but we know that even you
will one day see the moment of your death
when the cauldron at your heart
has burned its last
and you will be reborn anew,
and consume this blue and green planet
that has never ceased to orbit you,
and you will take all that has ever been with you –
and the cycle of life will begin again
when a new light begins to shine
and light up the darkness like a match…
Orb of morning, Orb of afternoon, Orb of evening,
Orb of every colour of the rainbow
that colours our world in all its beautiful ways…
Orb of seasons, Orb of phases,
Orb of reasons, Orb of storms,
Orb that we are forever bound to,
who we are all grateful for
and who we respect and adore –
we, the human race, are a part of you,
just as you are a part of us,
and no matter if one day our ancestors
reach out into the great unknown of space
and make a new home for themselves
upon a planet circling a star
far away from here, in another part of the galaxy,
you can rest assured that within the soul
and the dreams of humanity
there will only be one light guiding our way:
and that light will be you –
our sun, our beacon, our sphere of illumination,
our perfect and indomitable Orb.

My Poem “Birthplace”

Mark Hastings Poetry , , , , , , , ,

After they are born,
most people do not return
to the place of their birth…
most people have no memory of,
nor any connection with,
the one place on Earth
where they arrived in this world…
it is only as we get older,
when we start asking questions
about who we are and where we come from,
that we find out more about
the place on our birth-certificate…
sometimes, for some people,
returning to the place where the first person
saw their newborn face is a difficult experience
and not one that they which to repeat…
where we are born is integral to who we will be,
how we will think, and the direction in life
that we will take…
everybody is shaped and molded by the world around them –
but the place where a person’s story begins
has an impact that cannot be overstated…
whether someone is born in a hospital,
on an airplane, in a forest,
in the back of a car, in a lift, or in a pool of water –
that first point of interaction with the world,
that first inhale of air,
the first sights, the first sounds,
the first light of life that we see
are the first things that welcome us
into this world of gravity,
meaning, purpose, interface –
and that is why I believe that there is
something special and meaningful
about the exact when and where
that was, and will always be,
our birthplace.