poem

My Poem “God Bless the N.H.S.”

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

I believe that we here in the U.K.
are truly lucky and should be
thankful to have a National
Health Service filled with
Health Care Professionals
such as Nurses, Doctors,
General Practitioners, Chemists,
and those who care for the frail
and the elderly of our society –
and in my opinion
since the outbreak of Covid-19
each and every member of the national
medical team has outdone themselves
tirelessly, physically, emotionally,
and psychologically
as they have daily sought to slow
the spread of the Coronavirus
as well as to help the many suffers
of this deadly disease fight it
and with God’s will survive it.

I believe that the men and women
of the National Health Service –
who so many people leave their homes
briefly for, stand outside their
front-door for, and clap for
every Thursday evening at 8 o’clock –
are some of the most remarkable
healthcare workers in the world,
and the sacrifices that some of them
have made since the start of this
world-wide epidemic will
never be forgotten and for years
to come they will be remembered
and memorialized for the part
that they have played in helping
to deliver a future
for all of humanity.

I am so proud to call
the United Kingdom my home
and in large part because of what
the Great British people
are blessed with in abundance –
and I think this crisis
that we are currently living through
is proof of how lucky we all are
to be able to get back
what we have given
when we need it the most,
and the fact that every British citizen
can walk into a hospital and be treated
with the best health care in the world
no matter who they are
or where they are from is an example
of just how much we here
in Great Britain are blessed…
the pride of the country
and the true heart of the nation
in which we live in, to me at least,
is undoubtedly the wonderful
and the heroic men and women of
the incredible National Health Service.

My Poem “Rain Brain”

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

I’m not sure what
this says about me,
but I have always enjoyed
walking in the rain…
ever since I was a child
I have always found it
thrilling and cathartic
to walk through puddles
and to watch streams
of rain water disappearing
down metals drains.

There is so much poetry to see
when you walk across
a wet pasture of grass
or when you walk through
a cathedral of tall green trees,
because you get to experience
and to immerse yourself in nature
at it’s most fertile
and at it’s most lush…
there is so much art to be found
when putting one foot in front of the other,
while making contact with the ground –
whether it is within the resplendent
colours of a flower dappled
with glistening rain droplets,
or accidentally when a droplet of oil
from a car engine falls onto the road
and explodes into a rainbow.

I know that getting wet
for seemingly no reason
isn’t for everybody –
but to me walking, seeing, listening,
and learning about the world
and the way that everybody
is connected to everything
and how everything is connected
to everybody is just as
essential as breathing;
and no matter where I am,
or whatever I am doing,
the poetic heart beating within me
will always see and feel
time after time how amazing
it is to welcome both
the shining rays of the sun
as well as the return of the rain –
as long as the price to be paid
from them does not result
in the rising of pools
of sadness and pain
from the deluge of thoughts
and emotions within our brain.

My Poem “An Angel In Blue Scrubs”

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

I truly do not know how you do
the things that you do,
night after night
effortlessly caring for others
while wearing your scrubs
the colour of Carribean blue,
wearing a mask and a pair of gloves
as you attend to the patients
who have been admitted to
the hospital you work at
with various ailments
that require medical attention –
but no matter who your patient is
your beautiful smile, your dazzling eyes
and your incredible bedside manner
is all that is needed
to instantly aid in any given
patient’s recovery and the improving
of their immediate mood.

Being who you are,
knowing what you do,
I know for a fact that
it is not always easy
doing what you do –
but the way that you can rise
above every situation and always
remain a consummate professional
is an example of what makes you
so special and so perfect at
performing the role which your
life-long calling has guided you to,
and I believe that true Angel’s
like you find themselves
in places in their life
where, when, and with people
who are the most suited
to benefit from the gifts
that a Health Care Professional
like you were born with
and what you excel at sharing
while doing what you were born to do –
you are amazing, you are phenomenal,
you are perfect, you are a miracle,
my breathtaking blue scrub wearing Angel.

My Poem “The Spirit of a Poet”

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

Right from the start
it was the words of The Bard
that started the spark
that grew into the light in the dark
that is the poetry of my heart
and the gift that I use
to leave my mark…
I will bow before the master of language
that is William Shakespeare
for as long as I live and breathe –
and whenever I write a verse of poetry
I will always remember where I was
when I first read the Sonnets of The Bard
and the spirit of a poet was born within me.

Rest In Peace, William Shakespeare


My Poem “Thirty-Nine”

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

The direction of time
is something that we
have no control over –
but what we choose to do with
the time that we have
is ours and ours alone…
time flows in one direction
like the stream of a river –
and sometimes the currents
that we encounter propel us
into the future both fast and slow,
but the answer as to where
we will ultimately find ourselves
no one can know.

Throughout my life
I have had to make choices
that would lead to influencing
what I would do, where I would go,
and who and what I would love –
and, in reflection, as I look back
upon my life and how I feel like
I have been remade time and again,
I realize now more than ever
that although I cannot deny
that there are things from my life
that if given the chance I would change
I am blessed to have the life that I have,
I am thankful to have the people
in my life that I have,
and I am grateful to have been given
the opportunities that I have had
to see the world, to have experienced
all the joys of life that I have experienced,
and to have walked a path that has
seen me realizing dreams come true
and finding answers to questions
that I never knew.

There is so much from my life
that I will always remember fondly…
there are so many moments from my life
that are still crystal clear in my memory…
there is so much from my life
that makes me who I am
that was gifted to me by those
who know me and by those who love me
who are inexorably entangled
with the poetry of my life…
there are too many things that I could
mention that stand out for me
and constantly remind me of why
I feel so lucky to be alive –
but I am eternally grateful,
thankful, and I am happy to say
that although I do wish
that I could do more to help people – especially at this time –
I am fortunate to have been given
the life that I have
and I am glad to have made it
to the fine age of thirty-nine.

My Poem “The Gift of Freedom”

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

The beat of the raindrops falling
outside my bedroom window
sounds like someone is playing
a drum solo of some kind,
and the tune that I hear
is one that is unique to my ears
because it is being slowly conducted,
created and performed by nature itself
randomly and yet beautifully
and at a time when individual
creativity and ingenuity
seems to be at its most prized.

Grey clouds obscure the blue sky above…
people queue in their droves to go
shopping at their preferred supermarkets
and convenience stores –
however, there are definitely less people
walking, cycling, and driving from place to place
than there normally would be…
people are naturally trying to use
their time inside their homes wisely
by making things and by doing daily chores
while spending the majority of their time
surrounded by the same familiar four walls.

It’s good to do things…
it’s good to have routines…
it’s good to focus your attention
on what you can do to keep
the light with you and within
everybody around you shining…
it’s good to start something,
it’s good to finish something,
it’s good to repeat something,
it’s good to find meaning in something –
because sometimes by doing something
you can discover that that which
you have been looking for
has been present in your life
and has been secretly
inspiring your dreams for some time…
sometimes it is not until people
have to surrender to living a life
of incarceration, lockdown,
isolation and quarantine
that they realize what the true gift
of freedom is and what it truly means.

My Poem “Ramblers”

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

In the warm embrace
of the shining morning sun
I walked through a forest of trees…
in the bright and beautiful open air,
as I breathed in deep,
I found myself enraptured
by an instant sense of peace.

As I walked amongst the flora
and the fauna that surrounded me
my eyes were opened wide…
as my eyes were drawn
to all the colours that I saw
I experienced the sensation of
a door opening within my mind
and I felt as if I were somewhere
completely removed from time –
and it was this feeling of contentment
that made me close my eyes,
smile, breathe in, and sigh.

Within nature is where I feel
the most at home…
when I am blessed to see
a bumblebee collecting nectar,
or when I am fortunate
to hear the sound of birdsong,
or when I inhale the infinitely
complex fragrance of nature,
I wish that I could share exactly
what I see, what I hear,
what I experience, and what I feel:
rejuvenation, elation, and,
most importantly, overflowing
waves from an invisible ocean of hope.

I like to live in hope…
I like living close to nature…
I like to immerse myself in
whatever I find wherever I go…
I like wandering down a path
while wondering about the future.

I thrive on the beautiful poetry
of the natural world…
I am always inspired
after spending some time
visiting oases of life…
I feel like I can converse
with the blossoming trees,
the green fields, and with whom
and with what I do not see
without even having to utter a word…
there are times when everybody needs
to leave the beaten path and explore
what gives the wonders of the wilderness
its enamoring allure to those of us
who are commonly described as “ramblers”.

My Poem “We’re All In This Together”

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

The sound of pots and pans
being banged together
ring out at 7 o’clock every evening
from roof tops, from open windows,
from the doorsteps of houses
and apartment blocks
all across New York City,
and in many parts of
the United States of America –
and it is an amazing, humbling,
and emotional thing to behold.

The sound of clapping hands
echoes from street to street
all over the United Kingdom
every Thursday at 8 o’clock at night,
as people of all ages recognise
the hard work and the sacrifice
being undertaken by healthcare
professionals and “key-workers” –
from nurses to doctors,
from grocery store workers to bank clerks –
who turn up every day to their respective
places of work and who do their best
for those in the most need
at this time of great anguish –
and the sound that is produced
always generates a wave of emotion
that is, in my opinion, an example
of the best of humanity.

Every day the world loses people
who are irreplaceable…
every day we all mourn the loss
of our fallen brothers and sisters…
every day humanity loses
a member of its family…
every day we all have to keep
our distance from our loved ones
and from those people who
we may not know but who
we would not want to suffer
at the hands of the virus
that we all want to see the end of
as swiftly as possible so that
we can attempt to reevaluate
our lives and the reality
in which we find ourselves
that often feels as if
it has been shattered
like the shards of a broken mirror.

Life is not as it was,
and nothing will ever be the same again…
each and every death of everybody
who has lost their lives
is a scar upon the heart of us all,
and I hope that when this virus
has been finally subdued
from doing any more harm
each of us who are blessed
to still be alive and have reached
the other side of this massacre
will be able to find peace
and a deeper connection
between ourselves and all of humanity –
and especially when people are finally
able to overcome their fear
of keeping their distance
and physically interacting
with one another.

What is essential to life
is sometimes invisible to the eye…
what makes life worth fighting for
and worth living for is present
in the heart of every family member
who loves one another…
one of the most important things
in life is to be kind
and whenever we all find ourselves
presented with an opportunity
to show the depths of our humanity
there is no greater way than to
show a sign of hope –
in the form of a painted rainbow
or within the resonance of a sound
for all the world to see and to hear –
that is a clear and present example
of how everybody in this world
is bound to one another,
and no matter what we have to go through
we can get through anything and everything
just as long as we remember that
when it comes to staying alive
we are all in this together.

My Poem “Wonderful World”

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

Black crows flying against
a bright blue sky,
as butterflies dance in the air
seemingly joyously
as if they had just emerged
from their cocoons
and were learning how to fly,
as daisies, dandelions,
and the leaves of every tree
gently sway in the breeze.

There is the welcome sight
of many different types of life
that has been absent for some time –
including what must be
one of the busiest insects
on planet Earth:
the always buzzing,
the always working,
the vibrant and the unmistakable
black and yellow bumblebees
who are all out and about
collecting nectar and pollinating
as they hover from flower to flower.

Life is resilient…
nature has it’s own cycles…
sometimes the most defeaning
of sounds is silence…
change is often the hardest thing
for people to deal with –
especially those changes
that leave echoes and reverberations
that can last for a good long while…
nothing complicated can be rushed,
nothing simple is as uncomplicated
as it at first appears.

Sunrises, sunsets, birdsong,
language, communication
between two separate
and yet connected sources
is ever-present and ongoing,
no matter the time of the day,
the day of the month,
or the month of the year,
the past, the present, the future
of everything and everyone
is contained within our pristine
crystal ball of a planet
that is the most beautiful of them all
because of the compelling complexity
that binds every form of life
of this wonderful world.

My Poem “Pool of Contemplation”

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

As I sit looking at the ripples
upon this pool that I have been
familiar with since I was a child,
I contemplate so much about what I know,
about what I don’t know,
about what has happened, about life,
and about what will happen
when all is said and done
and when the world feels like it has been
put back together after such a long
period of feeling as is if
the seams that held everything together
were beginning to become undone.

I know this place…
I have stared into this water
more times than I can remember…
I have a connection to this place…
I once sat down and painted this very pond
long ago when I was a child –
and then, just as now, I felt compelled
to see and to find shimmering
sources of inspiration, of connection,
of that something about nature
that feels indefinable, magical,
wonderful, and phenomenal.

There has always been something
calming to me about staring
into a pool of water…
there has always been something
ethereal about the thought of
what may be found within the depths
a puddle, a pool, a pond, a river,
a sea, an ocean –
beyond the surface, below the waves –
where nobody can venture to
without external oxygen
or without an imagination,
to explore things that have
a life of their own,
where things remain unseen
until they are explored,
and where things which always
spark into life
the fire of inspiration:
things that I always find
whenever I look
into a pool of reflection
and contemplation.