patterns

My Poem “Maelstrom”

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

Nature is always showing
its utter dominance
and its powerful influence over humanity…
the nature of the world
is constantly acting independent to,
and without any thought of,
how the after effects of its actions
will impact upon all of its inhabitants –
however, some inhabitants of the world
sometimes seemingly act
with just as much disregard
and impunity for how their actions
will ultimately impact upon nature.

When a huge storm rages
there always follows intolerable
damage, destruction, and loss,
and it can sometimes be hard
to pick up the pieces and recover
from what no one and nothing
has any control over –
namely the ever changing weather
and the cocktail of elelments
that all build up to such high levels
of instability and volatility
that they naturally have to create
and generate that which must be
expelled in order to once regain
a sense of order and stability.

Severe storms can literally
change the face of nature –
and so many meteorological phenomenon
have been observed and have
been carried out by nature
since the weather patterns of Earth
began to take shape,
and a long time before humanity
in any form rose to become a vital
and influential voice in the future
of our home planet
and how nature will treat
humanity as a response.

The influence that we have on nature,
the way that nature can influence us,
the equilibrium that we must have with nature
if we are to survive,
is fundamental and it must be recognised
and respected for being what it is:
namely the greatest example
of symbiosis that has ever been observed –
which is why we should all do
everything that we can to think about
why things are the way that they,
how humanity collectively effects
itself and the world that it is
lucky to call home
and all the gifts and the opportunities
that our little blue sphere affords
every form of life on this planet.

We all need to be more concerned
with where we are all going and why
before it is too late
to turn back the clock entirely,
and we must all do our part
to attempt to heal the wounds
that we have scarred nature with
before the high tides of the seas
that have been littered for years
with the fragments of lasting modernity
return to humanity a maelstrom
of their own making.

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My Poem ‘No Filter’

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

A beautiful, gorgeous, sunny, warm morning –
with blue sky above, multiple reflections all around,
people coming and going, living, breathing,
seeing, experiencing, and music playing everywhere you are,
and a different voice for every hour that you hear.

I am sitting with a wonderful cup of coffee,
at a table next to a wall of windows
that stretch as far as the eye can see;
I am looking out at the city,
basking in the daylight of sunlight,
feeling energized and inspired
by the atmosphere of outside and inside;
I am seeing, listening, drinking,
thinking, dreaming, feeling,
and doing my favourite thing: writing poetry.

I am in plain sight, and it is as if no one can see me,
or is interested in me, or what I am doing –
nobody would ever think to approach me,
and ask me what I am writing;
however, if someone were to ask me what I am doing,
or how I was feeling, I would tell them that
the only way that I can describe how I am feeling
at this exact moment, is to say that:
I feel as if I am a bird in the sky,
hovering above the rest of the world,
not even needing to flap my wings too much
in any way at any time –
because I know that there are times
when instead of exerting yourself
with a lot of flapping about,
sometimes you can get to where you need to be
by simply using the external forces that surround you,
and using them, if you have the means,
to simply and silently glide.

As I look at the world,
the natural daylight instantly highlights the colours,
the details, the resonant aura of everything,
and the reason for things to be the way
that they click into place;
as I see the spectrum of existence and life jump out at me,
I have the biggest smile on my face;
as I look to the horizon,
and then to what I see right in front of me,
the scale and the impact that hits me
of certain things, that for some reason interest me,
instantly inspire me, and I see patterns repeating,
and shapes that have meaning;
I see and read emotions, attitudes, interests, tastes,
on the faces and in the actions of everybody,
and I am intrigued and fascinated;
and I also see things that I would change, if I could –
if I could just blink, or snap my fingers,
and change someone’s direction,
or show them another choice to make,
or an alternative to something I can see they are about to do –
however, I am merely an observer, a poet,
someone who can only say what he sees,
and express how something makes him feel,
and, though sometimes I wish I were,
I am far from omnipotent,
and that is a good thing.

Life is what it is;
the world is many things,
and is in many states of being, all at once;
some things that happen can feel like a magic trick;
everyone can believe anything they want.
Whether in the bloom of spring;
whether in the cold but beautiful light and air of winter;
whether you are doing something you have done before,
or whether you are being blessed
with the sight of something you cannot ever remember
at any time before seeing;
whether you are sitting, standing, lying, waiting,
and you have a chance, a moment, to look around
and take in life and the world,
do so if you can with perfect vision
and with no need for a filter.

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