My Poem ‘Countryside’

As I dream about a city across the sea,
there is someone over the ocean
wishing that they were walking
the fields of the English countryside;
as I sit and hear the sounds
and the accents that I remember so well,
there is someone in the very country
where I wish I was now
thinking about what it would be like
to be where I am, doing what I am doing,
completely untroubled and free.

As I write I think about that friend of mine
telling me about their wish,
and I wish that they and I could trade places,
even if it were only for a few minutes,
and even if it was only a momentary
swapping of minds and lives,
so that we two could for moments
walk in each others shoes
and know the taste and the smell of each others air…
if they were here and if I were there.

If my friend were here at this moment
they would cry at the beauty of the sight of my home;
if my friend could see with my eyes,
their entire vision would be met by
all the colours of the rainbow
represented by the colours of the surrounding
and blooming flowers;
if my friend were able to take in the perfection
that I have known my entire life
which never gets old,
they would never be able to describe verbally
what their eyes cannot look away from –
even if they were describing the landscape
to someone on the phone;
if my friend could follow in my footsteps,
they could and they would never stop exploring
and seeing something new and beautiful
everywhere they looked,
even if they kept walking for 24-hours.

Even when it rains,
and the leaves of the trees are speckled
with droplets of cleansing water from above,
the green that is England through and through
only becomes even more striking,
and when the clouds part
and the sunlight comes blazing through
there is no view anywhere
that is more amazing, nor breathtaking,
than the sudden explosion of colour
that is nature accentuated by the golden rays
of the most important star in the sky
that always makes my home
look like a real life landscape of art
that could never be fully explained,
because it is what it is:
a true, heart-breaking, paradise,
that is so beautiful
it will never stop bringing tears to my eyes.

There are people who I have not yet met face to face,
but who I want to meet;
there are places where I have been
that I want to return to some day,
where when I left them I cried;
there are friends of mine in other countries
who I can’t wait to fully introduce myself to
in the flesh when we first meet and greet;
there are places that I see every day
that the sight of makes me smile,
that if I could I would share with the entire world –
where I have done my fair share of walking,
thinking, contemplating and imagining,
in the most heavenly place on Earth
that is the great, glorious, gorgeous
and beautiful English countryside.

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Me

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Check out my books ‘Poet of the Sphere’, ‘The Sound of Mark’, ‘The Eternal Boy’, from Amazon.com and Amazon.co.uk right now! Click on my picture to check out my Amazon authors page! 😊📖📝

My Poem ‘Birthmark’

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 ‘Artistscope’

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’

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 ‘My Dream’

When I first started writing poetry
my dream was to touch someone;
when I first began this adventure
my dream was to tell someone
that I loved them;
when I first started writing poetry
I wanted someone to read,
feel, and understand that my words,
my poetry, were me –
and that I was giving
a part of my heart to them.
Not one of my poems
could ever have been written
by anyone else,
my poems are my dreams in black and white
and the things that I have seen,
the places I have been,
the people I have met.
Everything that I have felt
is the most important thing
anyone could ever know about me;
I am a dreamer, and I am a dream;
I am the writer, and I am the story;
my life is my own;
my poetry is my voice, my echo,
my world, my universe –
but there is so much I still have yet to see;
I will write until my dying day;
I will continue to embrace
the wonderful, the intense, and the extreme;
I will be me in every way;
I will never take for granted for a second
my life, my gift, my moment to live my dream.

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My Poem ‘Here’

I am where I have been
a thousand times before –
but this time it feels different,
this time I feel different.
When I write, I like to write
about exactly what is on my mind
at a particular moment in time –
however, where I am right now,
I have never been her before.
We can all go off and enjoy adventures
and make mistakes,
but we should never forget
what and who is truly important –
and I think, for a little while, I did,
and I have, and I realize now
the cost that our actions can have,
and there are always consequences
to going off like an outlaw
off the beaten-path.
I feel, looking back,
that I made the mistake
of forgetting who I truly am,
and chasing after a mirage
that never existed.
That is what happens
when you find yourself in a desert
and you lose your way –
when you want something so badly
you can accidentally find yourself
in the middle of a game
that someone else is playing.
Now I feel like I have come through the dust,
and the wilderness, and I have found myself
back where I started –
I am a different man to the one
who set out so long ago,
but seeing the familiar places and faces
who were a part of my life for so long,
I feel like I have come home.
I feel like ‘the man with no name’;
I feel like I have returned
after taking a treacherous trek
through lands where no one would ever
knowingly choose to dare;
I feel like I have found an old photograph
and I have stepped inside the frame;
I feel like I have come out
the other end of a dark tunnel
into the light of the day,
and I need to find out who I am again.
Where am I?
I am where I should have stayed all along,
I am where I belong: I am here.

My Poem ‘The Book People’

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 ‘The Fox’

In the early hours of the morning
when everybody, mostly,
was asleep in bed,
I used to walk the streets
while the sun was still rising,
and I would see and hear the world –
and there are things that I saw,
and things that I heard,
that I have never before confessed.

I used to listen to the silence,
and, as when I was a child,
I believed that I could hear
and feel the Earth turning;
I used to see the sun
and instantly feel the hairs
on the back of my neck stand on-end,
and I could feel the heat of the sun –
as if my skin was about to start burning.

With the moon still in the sky,
and the stars still shining bright,
the streets, the houses,
the trees, and the flowers,
looked in a stage of rest
as the people sleeping nearby –
and even though it was a new day,
it still had the look
and the feel of twilight.

I used to hear the first birds,
in the trees and on the rooftops,
begin the symphony of song
that is the dawn chorus;
I used to look up at the sky
and see the colours
and the canvas of the clouds
change and paint a unique picture,
with the sun acting as both
an inspiration of natural art,
as well as a back-light.
There were mornings
when I just used to stop and stare,
and feel a part of each
and every beautiful moment;
some mornings were absolutely
stunning, incredible,
phenomenal, and magnificent.

I was witness to true wonders of nature;
I lost time, because I used to forget
that it even existed;
I used to have this feeling
about what a day would consist of
right at the beginning –
like sampling an unfinished meal
and trying to get a sense of it’s flavours;
the times when I felt like
the only person left on Earth,
as if I were its eternal guardian
and destined to walk the miles
of this wonderful sphere forever,
were the best.

Many mornings, many hours,
the only other living thing
that I would see was wildlife –
and the amount of animals
that are already up
and doing what they know,
and what their instincts tell them to do,
without even thinking, is amazing;
and every animal that I used to see
was a moment, for me, that was truly magical:
from deer, to rabbits;
from hedgehogs, to badgers;
from frogs, to cats –
however, the species of wildlife
that I saw the most, and the animal
that I used to see
and would see looking back at me,
the beautiful creature of the night and the day,
which knows the true value of family,
which knows what they have to do to survive
and provide for their family,
that I used to read stories about as a child,
and the animal that I used to see daily
and be captivated by,
was the animal with the most warm and fiery fur on Earth,
which I used to see casually walking down the road,
which I was not for a second afraid by,
and which was and still is one of my favourite animals
of the night and early morning,
and that animal is the fantastic fox.

My Poem ‘Don’t Panic’

Don’t panic, if you ever find yourself
in an unfamiliar place;
don’t panic, if you are a writer
and your pen suddenly runs out of ink;
don’t panic, if you don’t win in a race;
don’t panic, if you find out that life
is not what you think.

Don’t panic if it’s raining –
because the sun will eventually come out;
don’t panic, if you lose something
that means something to you;
don’t panic, if you don’t have unlimited wealth;
don’t panic, if there are clouds above –
because above those clouds
there is a sun shining in a sky the colour of blue.

Don’t panic, if you don’t know everything;
don’t panic, if you can’t do what you want;
don’t panic, if something feels like it may be ruined;
don’t panic, if you want to be somebody – but you can’t.

Don’t panic, if you’re late for something –
because you are meant to be there when you are there;
don’t panic, if you feel that something
is sneaking up on you by surprise;
don’t panic, if someone looks at you and stares;
don’t panic, if your plans might need to be revised.

Don’t panic, if the house you built is blown away;
don’t panic, if you are in the middle of a city
and you don’t know where to go;
don’t panic, if someone comes into your life
but they cannot stay;
don’t panic, if you feel like things
are building up around you too much for you to cope.

Don’t panic, if every light you come up against is red;
don’t panic, if things feel like they are going in reverse;
don’t panic, if you gambled and lost –
or you put something on what seemed like a ‘sure thing’,
and you eventually lost the bet;
don’t panic, if you don’t see everything in life –
because there is no one alive
who will ever know everything,
or will ever have seen everything in the entire universe.

Don’t panic, if you are ever running late;
don’t panic, if everything feels manic;
don’t panic, if you have to wait;
whatever happens, whatever you have to do,
don’t worry about the things that happen
in the world around you that you can’t control –
because the universe has its own plans;
and even though you and everyone has a part to play,
the best thing you can do is to do what you know,
and don’t panic.