mixture

My Poem “Skyline”

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

Every city is constantly
remaking itself and is a mixture
of the old and the new,
and Birmingham is no different.
There is always so much to see
and so much to experience,
and no matter what day of the week it is
I always look upon its many different
buildings and its diverse population
and I think positively
and optimistically about
what it has always been, what it is,
what it will one day be,
and how it and the people
who make it what it is
will be seen when looked upon
from the ground or from high above
and among the many buildings
that make up is iconic skyline.

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My Poem ‘Complexion’

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

With every step you take through nature,
with every minute in the sun,
with your eyes you can see
phenomenal, beautiful, fantastic,
incredible features,
with your ears you can hear
the rhythm and the natural music of life,
of which you could only previously recall but a fraction,
and your memory can only be a reflection.

The feeling of the sun on your skin;
the shape and the colour of every flower;
the aroma that is a mixture
between that of cut grass
and the most intoxicating perfume;
the time that can seem like a blissful eternity
that in reality is like a magical glass globe
of a world in which the blossom from the trees
floats and is carried by the wind
within a matter of hours –
on a sunny spring day
there is only one song and one sensation
you want to replay and replay.

The world would not be the same without us,
and we would not be the same without the world;
just as the molecules of our bodies
are bound tightly together to make us in a certain way,
just as our genetic traits slowly become noticeable
throughout our lives and will always be present in our DNA,
humanity is like a mixture of chemicals in a test-tube
and Earth is where the reaction happens
and can be observed in the galactic laboratory
that is always making and remaking
the definition of life’s mould.

There are skies of red;
there are seas of white;
there are stories never to be known or read;
there are birds that will never take flight;
life is no accident,
but it is an ongoing experiment;
things that were thought lost forever can return;
beauty can be different from person to person,
and can have different meanings
in different places on the same planet;
ice is cold, but it can also burn;
eternity can be an unimaginably cruel gift to some,
to live forever would be the most unnatural thing
to have to endure –
because every living thing lives and dies
so that all life can carry on;
change is fundamental in welcoming
the arrival of the future;
everyone must be both a balance
of different and the same;
to see the universal differences
there must be a spectrum;
everybody has an instinct about things
that can’t be easily explained;
biological life has its own natural colour
that is truly a miracle to behold
and to watch it as it defies explanation
every time while showing the simplicity
and in the same instant the complexity
of the infinite and the multi-dimensional
complexion of the universe.

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My Poem ‘Stations’

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

Kisses and hugs;
smiles and tears;
handshakes and long-looks;
happiness and delight;
sadness and fears;
every emotion can be witnessed
and seen every day at a station:
at an airport- in departures, in arrivals;
at a bus station, at a coach station;
on the platform of a train station;
people- friends, family, lovers, partners,
confidants, strangers,
say goodbye, and say hello,
to each other, alongside each-other,
about to start a new journey,
or who have just arrived at their destination.

Everything that could happen
happens in a terminal;
anything that could be said
can be heard while waiting in line;
something unexpected always happens
and sparks can always be seen
when you have a mixture
of different kinds of people;
the more information available the better,
and the more distractions people have
the easier it is when they are waiting
and need something to do
to pass the time.

Luggage going out;
bags of belongings, souvenirs,
and perhaps duty-free, coming in;
tests of patience, hopes, and doubts;
tickets firmly in-hand
to somewhere they are looking forward
to returning to, and for others
once in a lifetime vouchers
to a place they have never been.

Adults, and children,
have different coping-skills
and varying methods of keeping themselves
entertained, while waiting to board a plane,
or when they are waiting for a train
depending on their disposition
for both adults and children alike,
it can be either an exciting, wonderful,
heart-pounding, and amazing, time,
waiting to get underway
that they can’t sit still, or rest,
and cannot wait to leave;
or there are those who worry that they have
remembered everything that they need,
and that there are no problems,
and they don’t need to find someone to blame.

Departing somewhere is a great feeling,
and it is very exciting;
however, for me ‘arrivals’ in an airport,
or the moment that you see a loved-one
standing and waiting for you
on the other side of a window,
is the best place to be,
and, personally, I feel happiness
for everybody when I see people reuniting
it’s one of the best moments to witness;
it’s one of those close encounters
that fills you with fascination and elation;
it’s one of those magical, cork-popping,
emotional, time-freezing, eternities,
that just overflows with fizz
you see it all, you witness the wonderful;
you feel so much when you come back
from a holiday away;
and when you take the first steps
of your vacation,
there is always something to be sensed
and felt at every time of the day
in each and every person
departing, or arriving,
at a station.