magical

My Poem ‘Autumn’

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

The summer serenade has come to an end…
the leaves are changing colour
and are spiraling to the ground…
the door of a new, but familiar,
season of nature opens…
the outside air is growing colder –
even the tone of the music
that the wind blowing through the trees
and the buildings makes a different sound…
Autumn is with us now…
it is now ‘Fall’ as they call it in North America…
in some states and in some countries
they are beginning to take off the covers
and dust off mighty snow-plows,
and some of the birds in the trees
that have been nesting in the same nests
all summer-long and have been singing loud
their morning and evening songs
are taking flight and are heading
thousands of miles south.

Pumpkins are being harvested;
winter-coats are coming out of the closet;
when walking through a still leafy woodland
at the right time of the day,
when the sun is shining bright
and blissfully in the sky,
you can find yourself in the middle
of a shower of golden light;
when it is dark later in the morning,
but still breathtakingly beautiful,
and in the evening time,
the new season heralds the arrival
or darkness and stars far earlier
than at the same time on a Summer night.

Now it is the favourite time
of the year for some people;
now, when the children return to school,
is when there is a great buzz of enthusiasm
in the air – just as intoxicating
as the smell of a forest after a rain-storm;
now is when a great anticipation of delights
begins to build;
now, when change is at its most tangible,
is when, if are lucky and out among nature,
you can come up-close and see with your own eyes
marvels of the world like that of a baby fawn.

All is in transition;
a new filter to view the world through
descends before our eyes
as the Earth is now at its farthest from the sun;
moments experienced and shared
are like magical miracles sent from above;
now is the season to embrace what comes to you
while you are among the wilds of the open
and make the most of one of the most
magical seasons of life on Earth… Autumn.

My Poem ‘A Part of Me’

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

You’re the picture in my wallet…
you’re the woman of my dreams…
you’re the star I daily orbit…
you’re beautiful beyond belief…

You make me who I am…
you make me smile and you make me laugh…
you make me happy when you hold my hand…
when you look at me you make me feel
like I am 20 feet-tall,
and taller than the tallest giraffe…

When we look into each-other’s eyes…
when we both say ‘I love you’…
when we walk together under an unbroken blue-sky…
when we kiss and the Earth feels like it moves…

I want the moments we are together to last forever…
I want every wish that we share to come true…
I want to be the one who to you always makes things better…
I don’t ever want to stop giving all my love to you…

Because without you, to me, life would not be worth living…
because to me you are the most beautiful angel of paradise city…
because to me you are the magical light that opens my eyes
every day when the dawn is breaking…
because I have never met, and I have never known, anyone like you…
because, Melissa, you will always be a part of me
and the best thing that has ever happened to me.

melissa-Mark-picture in my wallet

My Poem ‘Lightning Days’

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

Where does the time go?
Sometimes it seems
and it feels like
time is like water rushing like a river,
and like a waterfall falling off
into the great unknown.

I wish that I could live my life
over and over again –
but only those moments that I love the most
and could never let go…
because, to me, home is a place
that you could never forget
and which feels like a part of you
and where you know with all your bones.

There is no better way to travel
than to travel with someone…
there is no better person to travel with
than with the one who you love…
there is no better time to travel than right now…
there is no better destination to travel to
than to the place where your heart belongs,
and the time that you spend there could never be enough.

Over the past two weeks
I have had the best days of my life;
over the last 14 days
I have experienced moments
that literally rocked my world;
over the past two weeks
I have made memories that I will live and breath
every day for the rest of my life;
over the last 14 days
time has flown by so fast,
it is as if I have been flying
with wings as if I were a bird.

Love, family, music, sunshine,
beauty, lightning, thunder…
so many amazing things were painted upon me
as if they were a rainbow of colour;
hugs, kisses, faith, belief…
I know now more than ever
that if you leap into something
and with all your heart
that the things that will follow
will be beyond anything
you could have before believed.

Lightning bugs…
lightning explosions of colour
brought upon by exploding fireworks…
lightning nights…
I will never forget a moment
of those magical lightning days.

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My Poem ‘The Morning Person’

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

I wake up even before the sun has risen;
I am thinking about the day ahead,
while others are still dreaming;
I am there to witness a divine sight
every time I open my eyes
and I watch the sunrise,
and I feel with every beat of my heart
as it races that I am here for a reason;
I see hope in the daylight,
and in the blue sky that follows
I see a beautiful purpose
being reflected back like a mirror…
as one half of the world says “goodnight”
and the other says “good morning”.

I reveal my true colours
when I imagine and I am inspired…
I see the universe’s path for me
when something occurs to me
that I had not thought of or considered before…
I wish I could help people see
that each and every one of us
is the beholder of,
as well as in constant orbit of,
a life-giving and life-changing fire…
I wish every-thing and everyone
had the instinct to share
all the gifts that Earth blesses us with every day –
and there would be no greed, no hunger,
no richer, no poorer.

I thrive and I feel energized
by the light and the bright
of a beautiful morning;
I have stayed up through the night,
and I have been shrouded by the dark of the night
and I have walked under the silver shimmer of moonlight;
I love a night-owl dearly –
however, to me, it is not after the sun has set
that the dream-world that awaits me starts calling;
I am the one who listens to every solemn sound
that only slightly breaks the silence
of a new day’s dawn, and who looks for,
and who sees more –
however, that is just me…
I cannot help myself from being a “morning person”
who smiles at the instant that I see
the first breath-taking burst of daylight
and the golden flash
that is our sun’s magical star-light.

My Poem ‘The Purple Flame’

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

The Purple flame, the purple prince,
the purple reign, the purple spirit,
the purple light, the purple love,
the purple sight, the purple angel
who now flies free like a dove…
the purple revolutionary,
the soul, the purple poet, the purple poetry,
the purple energy flow,
the purple art, the purple artist,
the purple icon, the purple tempest…
we are all going to be basking in your glow
today and for all of the days of tomorrow…
I am imagining you right now
racing down a highway in heaven
with David Bowie and John Lennon
in a little red Corvette
against the backdrop of a purple sunset,
wearing a raspberry-coloured beret,
on your way to a place
where there is an ocean of inspiration
that is constantly being remade
by the diamond and pearl-like
droplets of purple rain.

You have left us,
but you are still here…
you have blessed us,
and we will remember you
every second that we hear
your transcendent music,
as we shed a tear…
you may be far away now,
but your message of love
still echoes all around the world…
you must be looking back at us now
through the clouds
and smiling to yourself
because you know that the magical gift of music
that you were a master of
is one of the universe’s must powerful cures.

The purple bird…
the purple fire…
the purple star…
the purple flower…
the purple dust…
the purple pulse that will always
flow back and forth through our veins
from our feet to our brains…
the purple night…
the purple day…
the purple life that we will always cherish
and we will always be in-awe of…
of the one of a kind prince of the purple flame.

Prince-thepurpleflame-date

My Poem ‘Love is an understatement’

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

Could a single word
every truly describe
the sparkle of belonging
and the beautiful infinity that you see
in the love of your life’s eyes?
Is it ever possible to understand
the reason why the stars shine so bright
and yet are so far away?
Is there anything more incredible
than sharing the miracle vista of a sunrise?
What can you say when you have said so much
and yet there is so much more to say?

There you are…
there is your face that I always see;
there is my star in the dark,
there is my heart’s desire,
there is my soul-mate
who makes me Me;
there you sit staring back at me;
there I go imagining myself with you
and you with me;
there you are, my incredible angel;
there before my eyes
I see the love of my life,
and you are so phenomenal
you are beyond beautiful.

A look can speak volumes;
words only have power
when they are understood;
true love is like a flower
when it blooms;
when your heart beats for someone else
you feel like you are in the middle
of an intense emotional flood
that gives rise to tears,
makes your thoughts form
and then pop like soap bubbles,
and makes you feel like you are on fire,
and you literally cannot hold back
the rush of your blood.

The moment that I saw you
something changed in me;
the moment that I told you
that I loved you
was only eclipsed in my mind
by the moment when you told me
that you loved me;
the moment that I first heard your voice
all that completed me
and guided me from that instant
was the melody and the lyrics of your song,
and I have replayed that magical moment ever-since;
you are my princess,
and I will always be your prince;
thinking back to the start of everything,
I always knew that our meeting each-other
and us being together was no accident –
in fact, I have proof that you were heaven-sent;
to use only one word to describe what you mean to me
and how you make me feel would be impossible,
because the only word that comes close is ‘love’ –
but just saying that Love is what I feel for you
ultimately would be an understatement.

My Poem ‘Percussion’

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

The pitter-patter of raindrops
against a window early in the morning;
the foot-falls of steps
outside your door;
the dial-tone of a phone ringing;
the rumble of a crowd of people
reverberating over a floor.

The sound of drums;
the strike of lightning;
the impact of hand against instrument;
the synchronous movements
and almost-balletic arm accentuation
that make the musical performance of an artist
that much more exciting.

The voice of an instrument
that is brought to life by its player
as it was always meant
to be played and heard is magical –
the tone, the depth,
the range, the indistinguishable
call to rise of emotions
that only they can elicit
and evoke is phenomenal;
like the vocal-cords that vibrate
that allow someone to speak,
the unmistakable beat,
like that of a heart,
is its most effective
when it is allowed
to reach its natural peak.

No two ears hear the same;
no two players share the same gestures,
nor the same emotional connection
to a piece of music;
no two pieces of art
can coexist within the same frame;
every member of the same band
shares the same feeling
of being carried-away
and drifting like a flurry of snowflakes
on the wind.

The music of interaction;
the melody of harmony;
the natural cycle of repetition;
the actions of fluidity;
the language of notes;
the knowledge of keys;
the memory that never leaves;
the gift that comes with ease.

While there is still music playing,
while new songs are still being created,
while there is still the sound of waves crashing,
while new lovers of music are born
and want to become instrumentalists and percussionists,
the world will go on,
the Earth will play on and sing as-one,
the sources of all joy sadness
will continue to drum –
and those fluent in sharing
the music of the spheres of the universe
will want to continue to play
with all their heart the music
and the instruments of percussion.

My Poem ‘Her Magical Powers’

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

I was listening to Johnny Cash,
“The Man in Black”,
when a shiver of cold ran down my back;
it was night time and the stars were out,
and I had no idea what the shiver was about –
but as I looked out my window
and I saw the streak of a shooting star
in the sky above;
I make a wish to the one I love,
and I saw her face as clear as day –
and as soon as I did a song began to play;
and as I listened I heard a voice:
three words spoken with no background noise,
and I heard everything
that I have ever wanted to hear…
I closed my eyes, as I shed a tear,
and into the air I said a prayer
to the one I love
that for her I would always be there;
I said to her that I loved her too,
I heard her say my name and my eyes flashed blue,
and all I wanted was to have her near –
so I let go of all my fear…
and I wrote a poem for her to read,
one that would tell her
that she is the only one that I need –
and I typed it up with my own two hands,
and I sent it to her with my heart
beating as if I were in the middle of a dance;
I waiting out of breath for a whole two seconds,
and then my love replied to the message
in which I had beckoned:
she said that she always wanted us to be together…
I jumped for joy and I told her that she was my heaven!
And later that night, I went to sleep,
I dreamed that I was with the woman
who I wanted to keep:
we hugged and kissed,
we laughed and promised;
and the next morning when I woke up
I picked up the phone
and I called my love…
I told her that she was my world,
that no matter what happens
I would do anything for her;
and then we spoke for hours upon hours,
until I had to say goodnight to her…
and I told her again that I loved her
and that I always and forever wanted to be
under the spell of her magic powers.

My Poem ‘Our Magical Opus’

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

I want to tell you a story,
about a prince of poetry
and a princess of unfathomable beauty…
who met and who fell in love
after being drawn together
and to each other
by their love of music,
who long to live happily ever after
in each others arms as-one
and forever enjoy and revel
in each others’ magic.

There are forces at work all around us;
there are unstoppable alignments at play
like the perfect orbits of planets;
there are electronic, spiritual,
biological, magical opuses;
there are seemingly random fragments
combining and attracting each other like magnets.

That first picture;
that first message;
that first peak under the cover;
that first expression of love;
that first digital kiss;
that first shared dream;
that first face to face;
that first smile that eclipses
all others that you have ever seen;
that first touch;
that first look;
that first first embrace;
that first loss of control
when hands and fingers and lips
come together in a lock.

There are modern day fairy-tales;
there are people who are meant to be
together forever all around the world;
there are stories of synchronicity
that are as beautiful and amazing
and as breathtaking as they are incredible;
there are some fires
that are always meant to burn.

The story of this prince
and this princess…
the story of the American beauty
and the English poet…
the tale of the Englishman
and the American woman
who love one-another
more than they could ever confess…
the tale of the two hearts
who grew up worlds apart,
but who one day found each other
as if discovering a life-changing
and priceless treasure…
is the story of the beautiful destiny
of my angel and I –
that is deeper, richer, and more amazing
than words could ever describe,
because it is the most phenomenal, epic,
unbelievable, poetic and magical opus.

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My Poem ‘The Night Owl’

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

You stay up all through the night;
you see the shine of the moon,
as well as the rise of the morning sunlight;
your natural environment is darkness;
your natural instincts come alive
when the world is quiet
and you can spread your wings
and use to the best of your ability
your finely-honed senses;
you see more than most others do;
the daylight You is more beautiful than words,
but the nocturnal You allows you
to show parts of you
that can only be seen
by they who can see that you are
the most wonderful and magical miracle
in the entire world.

You look, you see, you hear, you know;
you take flight into the air
faster than a firefly;
when you hear the heartbeats
and the pulses of energy
of the music of the night,
before you can think
you are following your own heart,
and away you go!

When I see you,
you glow and draw me towards you;
when I look into your big,
gorgeous, dark-brown eyes,
my thoughts burn like the sun;
when you call to me,
I feel like I may soon
turn into a mythical wild animal –
like a werewolf howling at the moon;
when I take in everything about you –
when I watch you, when I follow you,
I feel with every fiber of my being
that you are my true heart and soul desire,
and I feel like I would not and could not
be me if I did not have you.

There is life that thrives
and was made to have an innate connection
with the twilight;
there are people who only know
the tranquility that can be found
in the dark when the stars can be seen shining bright;
there is life with gifts
that mostly show themselves
only when the sun has set below the horizon –
with powers to them that, to me, are in every way
amazing, epic, magical, and mythical;
there are people who feel comfortable
in their own skin who feel serene and wonderful
when they can be their natural self,
when they are up all night long
and enjoying every moment
of being the quintessential night-owl.