poem

My Poem ‘Voilà!’

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

Have you ever thought about something,
and then there it was?
Have you ever thought about someone,
and then there they were?
Have you ever asked a question,
and then got an answer?
Have you ever seen something,
and thought to yourself:
“nothing could ever be better than this”?

I have always liked
the magic of the “spur of the moment”;
I have always loved
the illusionist’s favourite trick
of “now you see me, now you don’t”;
I have always longed
to be a man of surprise;
I have always made the most of every moment
that has filled my eyes.

The gift to spontaneously create something
is unbelievably amazing, to me;
the ability to be able
to make something out of practically nothing,
is like a verse right out of nature’s
magic book of poetry;
the imagination that shows itself in a piece of art,
is as phenomenal to see and to witness
as the expression of a random thought.

A magician would not be as entrancing
if he did not have the most amazing sense of timing;
a chef would not be the best they could be
if they did not know, and have an instinct,
about what ingredients go with what;
a musician with a natural talent
might need to the learn the art of refinement,
however they do not need to go through
too much intense training;
a true creative person
can do anything with whatever they have got.

I have seen the most amazing sights
when I had no expectation of seeing anything exciting;
I have heard a piece of music that has moved me –
from the strings being played by a stranger,
who plays as if they were born
holding and plucking the cords of a guitar;
I have felt enlightenment
that felt like being struck by lightning;
I have had my own moments of reveal;
and I love being there whenever there is an instance
when someone can show their magic,
and have their moment of voilà!

My Poem ‘Cogito ergo sum’

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

When I wake up every morning,
I know that I am poet,
and I want to be a writer;
when I see something,
I am inspired by an idea,
I become, I feel, and I connect,
with what fills and stimulates
my mind and my consciousness;
I take what has been inspired into being
and I run with it all the way
to the end of my imagination;
I find a way to connect the dots
in an imaginative way,
and express what I see
with undivided focus.

I can look at the world
and see any reality that I can imagine;
I can hear a song
and dream of a place, while still awake;
I can see something,
and then get this rush of excitement
deep inside me, that overflows from me,
that feels like I am
about to take a leap from a mountain;
I can feel things
that no one in the world,
no matter how good an actor they were,
could ever fake.

If I were not a writer,
I do not know who I would be;
if I did not write poetry,
I would not be me;
if I were not inspired
and excited about the world
as much as I am,
I think I would be missing a piece of my soul;
if I did not give myself fully
and wholeheartedly to what was right in front of me,
and what made me feel free,
then I would never know or remember
the feeling of the sun on my skin,
and every rainy day
would always be one that was cold.

The first place to start from,
and the first person to know,
is always the place,
and is always the person,
that you know better than anywhere, or anyone,
and you can always rely on the first instinct
and the first thought that comes to your mind;
there is no place you can go
and not see the person in the mirror,
from whom you can never hide;
if you want to know who to be,
if you want to know what to do,
if you want to have faith in something, or someone,
but you just can’t decide what to believe, or who –
close your eyes, know yourself,
and recite to yourself
one of my favourite, and one of the most profound,
latin phrases you could ever know the meaning of:
cogito ergo sum.

My Poem ‘From Scratch’

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

How do you build a house
without a blue-print?
How do you piece together a puzzle
without first seeing a picture
of how the completed image appears?
What makes a true friendship?
Where do you go
when you have caught all of your tears?

You can’t ever truly go back,
some things are meant to be broken and stay unmended;
some things are just not meant to last;
if we didn’t care,
then there wouldn’t be times when we feel offended.

I am like my Dad,
I am a man of deep feelings;
if I have been hurt by someone,
or something, I do feel sad;
if you start to believe what other people say
and think about you,
one day you might discover that while you were listening,
thinking, and obsessing, you were overlooking
the real thing that you have been missing.

If you had never heard music before,
and someone played you a song,
would you know what it was?
Would you still be able to feel
the same flood of emotions,
and be transported away in the only way
that music knows how to, and always does?

If you had never written a single poem before,
and then one day you sat down and wrote one for someone,
could you say what you wanted to say?
If someone meant the world to you,
how would you tell them, and in what way?

If I had to start from scratch,
if I had to reset and make the same choices over again,
if I could turn back time as easy as you can
with the hands of a clock, or a watch,
if I could talk to the dearly-departed who I once knew,
there are some things that I would love to say
for the very last time, and truly say a fitting goodbye
to an old friend.

Times must change;
everyone must meet their match;
you should never run away from a moment of rage;
when you think you have lost it all,
pick up the pieces that you can see scattered around you,
go home, and start again from scratch.

My Poem ‘The Game of Life’

Mark Hastings Poetry , , , , , ,

Life is a game –
or so it can seem, feel,
appear, and sometimes sound like;
life is a game,
that is full of players, users,
journeys, questions, and answers –
and as I get older and wiser,
and as I happen upon one person after another,
and as I have encounter after encounter,
I see people playing a game
that they might not even be aware that they are playing,
or participating in;
however, I see things that most people
might not think to think about, or look for:
I see plans, strategies, intentions, and manipulation;
people are generally creatures of habit,
and when I see someone doing something
that they do not always do
I know to prepare for a change in the pattern
and in the behavior of someone or something I know
that I might not completely have seen before.

Life is constantly changing –
however, the rules of life stay the same and cannot change;
life is a constant moment
that is continuously taken for granted –
as are people, and that is why life and time
can sometimes feel like a cage.

There are always different lives, different sides,
and everybody is dancing to a tune;
there are people of all colours and kinds –
there are some people who feel like their best in the sun,
and there are some people who prefer to be out all night
and bask and even howl wild
while under some kind of influence
under the light of the moon.

Light, and dark;
night, and day;
Clown fish, and sharks;
dies, and cards;
snakes, and ladders;
extremes of colour
that appear more vibrant
in a world that shifts constantly
through every shade of grey.

People can get used;
people can get hurt;
people can get treated one minute
like an exciting front-page story,
and then the next they can be relegated to yesterday’s news.

As someone who watches the world,
as someone who watches people,
as someone who wears the scars of a battle,
like someone who has been cut by knife,
I have seen so much,
I have felt so much,
I have done so much,
and I am starting to understand so much,
and though I do not wholly believe yet
that all the world is a game of players,
I do believe that someone people
are actively playing a game
that to them is a way of life.

My Poem ‘Your Thing’

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

Whether its writing, or dancing,
reading, or believing,
capturing, or speaking,
photographing, or modeling,
driving, or treating,
walking, or exploring,
making, or faking,
acting, or searching,
mixing, or fixing,
painting, or crafting,
counting, or adjusting,
growing, or assisting,
building, or remembering,
caring, or sharing,
copying, or exercising,
thinking, or feeling,
moving, or playing,
watching, or listening,
whoever you are, whatever you do,
we all have something that we do
that is close to our heart,
and something that is
as much of your soul and your identity,
that will always be a part of you.

Some of the most important things to know about us
are hidden from view, most of the time;
we all wear a mask
that covers our secret thoughts and feelings;
some of the things that spend their life
tentatively waiting to show themselves,
sometimes appear unexpectedly;
no matter how passive we are most of the time,
we all do our share of relating
to the things about other people
that are not exactly the things
that we would say define or describe us;
however, I always find the discover of something
new about someone I thought I knew,
that sometimes comes out of the blue,
enlightening and inspiring;
and a new question is always a mystery
I cannot ever decline.

Whether you sing,
or whether you express yourself in another way;
whether you are comfortable in the limelight,
or perhaps never like being the centre of attention;
whether your perfect day is being with your friends,
spending time with your family,
or spending some time on your own;
what emanates from you subconsciously,
and what you see as the best, and the most amazing,
is something that,
no matter what anyone else says or thinks,
is fantastic, and if it makes you happy
then that is amazing.
Do what you know;
know what you do;
keep going where you go,
and don’t stop doing your thing.

My Poem ‘It’s a tradition’

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

I love reunions;
I love keeping traditions;
I love catching up
and reconnecting with old friends;
I love being there when a friend of mine
is sharing their gift with me
live and in person,
that instantly transports me back
to a time way back when;
I love giving all the support that I can;
I love the feeling of hearing someone I know
remember me, mention me,
care that I am who they always know I am going to be:
a passionate, supportive, friend,
moon in orbit around them, life-long fan.

To forget a face is impossible for me;
to not be there when a friends calls out to me,
even from far away, is beyond imagining;
to overcome anything in my way,
to be where I am needed, is what I do;
to believe what I know and what I feel
deep in my heart and soul
is something I am proud of;
and if you know me,
then you will know that
that is nothing new.

Time-traveling is a passion for me.
I may not be able to physically travel through time,
but I have perfected the skill
that everybody has to quantum leap
back into the body and mind of their younger-self.
Time travel is not just something
that people can do in science-fiction –
it is a gift that for me is easy to do
and use to remind myself,
without changing anything
that might affect the present in any way,
what the most important things about life there are to remember,
and to hold on to them so they can’t ever drift away.

I do forget sometimes
how much I do share, and have shared, with people;
I often need reminding
who I am, and how lucky I am –
however, as soon as I hear a certain voice,
as soon as a particular song starts playing,
it is a moment for me that is beautiful,
and I again believe with every fiber of my being
that the universe does indeed have a plan.

I have always believed that traditions are important;
I will remember as much of my life,
for as long as I can, with a passion;
I am constantly learning about new and old ways
of not allowing things to be forgotten –
every day, in every way, everywhere on this planet;
I will continue to return, repeat, keep,
and remember that things and the places I am remembered for;
and for as long as I can, I will be there,
doing what I do, and keeping my own
meaningful and amazing traditions.

My Poem ‘Garden of Inspiration’

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

As everyone gets older life gets harder;
as we watch the changing of the seasons,
we are all reminded how short and precious life is,
for so many reasons;
if you can find happiness and contentment in your life
then you have found the treasure
that has always been meant for you,
and as long as you don’t take what you have for granted
your perfect composure will last forever.

When you have a moment to take in where you are,
and embrace what you are doing,
and why you are where you are,
when you feel like you have
all you could ever think of as amazing;
live in that moment for as long as you can –
because it will be gone before you know it;
keep every detail close to your heart,
like an old faded photo;
wear it like a charm around your neck,
on your wrist, on your finger, or in your pocket;
make every step one that is always worth retracing;
don’t ever let anything go.

The youth of today are used to seeing something,
saying something, experiencing something,
and then forgetting about it;
young people live in the moment,
but they mostly do not give what they are doing
any long-term thinking,
and the effect of their actions can sometimes be a curse –
but they can also and mostly are a blessing;
the days fly away faster when you are younger,
because you are always doing something.
I would encourage everybody, young and old,
to keep a diary, a journal, an album,
that they can hold and add to over time,
because the moments of our lives happen in a flash,
and remembering them in some way
is a way of never taking them for granted.

Everyone has their own escapes;
everyone does something everyday
that deserves to be recognized and talked about;
everyone, no matter how old they are,
should envy anybody who can still see the world
and be captivated by fascination;
everyone can find their idea of perfection
before it is too late;
everyone does not have to settle
for the cards in life they have been dealt;
everyone can plant and watch something
they helped bring to life
grow and become something beyond imagining,
while in the world and within
the garden of inspiration.

My Poem ‘Here be dragons’

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

Legends of dragons
populate and inflame
epics, stories, myths, and traditions,
throughout the world, and have done so for centuries;
dragons of every shape, size, and colour,
have took flight in tales,
and have been imagined in a myriad of ways
by some of Earth’s greatest storytellers of fantasy;
and the characteristic gift of the fire
that a dragon can produce
is something wonderful
that has always fascinated me.

Ever since I was a young boy,
I have known about dragons,
read books that had dragons, or a dragon,
as a character important to the plot of a story,
and I have watched dragons be brought to life,
and I have to say that not for a moment
have I ever felt any sort of fear
at the thought of such a fantastic creature
that perfectly symbolizes a world of magic,
mythology, sorcery, and other-worldly
wonderful creations, that burn in our imaginations,
and allow our ideas of the possible and the impossible
to be eclipsed by the veil
of something and somewhere extraordinary.

Dragons are characterized as spellbinding,
unstoppable, fierce, arrogant,
but also blessed with extreme intelligence,
in almost every story they have been featured in,
and their presence is not one
that should ever be underestimated.
There are many reasons as to why dragons
are still a very important symbol in many cultures,
and there are incredible works of art
that have been created depicting dragons
for thousands of years – and to this day,
the thought and the image of a dragon
is one that will forever resonate.

Every country has written its own literature of dragons,
and many heroes in such heroic and epic tales
of phenomenal bravery have seen the defeat
and the slaying of a dragon as the intended end-result
and the defining act of a quest;
some stories paint dragons as a sign of luck, wealth,
strength, the universe, existence, importance,
pride, and magnificence;
many dragons have been given names,
and their identities are known to more people
than at first might be guessed;
even on maps that were drawn to show
the cartography of the world, as it was thought to appear,
in the places on those maps that were still unexplored,
and may potentially be dangerous,
they had written on them for all the world to read:
“here be dragons”.

image

My Poem ‘The Feeling’

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

Every day I am overcome
by a sudden intense wave of emotion,
like the tide of an ocean;
I could be doing anything, at any time,
when I feel a light-headiness
that is one of a kind;
and when I feel it,
I know that something is about to happen,
I know something is happening right now,
I know something is building and rising
and growing in so many ways
like the sun in the sky.

Our internal thoughts
have more of an external influence
than we may think they might:
I have imagined things happening,
and they have come true;
I have come face to face
with something I dreamed about one night;
I have seen things turn around on themselves
and show themselves to me again,
as if they were brand new.

My thoughts often bubble up
and leave the confines of my mind;
my emotions are noticeable
and can be read in every language that I know –
from the sound of my voice,
to the tone of my poetry,
to the language of my body;
my instincts know know to read most of the universe’s signs,
but I always find myself somewhere
I might never at first would have thought to go –
which makes the choices that I make
sometimes more spontaneous and in the moment,
and they are phenomena of my life
that have stayed with me.

I remember where I was, who I was with,
what I thought, what I felt,
what every second meant,
when something that turned out to be life-changing for me
flashed into existence, and changed me,
and propelled me on a new course and direction, as a result;
I have the gift to see myself
as I was at a particular time in my life,
and although those days will never happen again,
and those moments can’t ever be repeated,
I am truly blessed to have lived a life
that has been so eventful, epic, inspiring, and full.

I am nostalgic;
I am someone who looks at old photographs,
and says to myself: remember when?
I believe that love is more than a word,
more than a simple emotion,
more than even a poet or a song could ever truly express –
because it is real ‘magic’;
I don’t let go of anything without a fight,
especially something that I believe
with all my heart was heaven-sent;
I know I am not dreaming
when the thing that I am imagining
is so amazing, awe-inspiring, and heart-racing,
that it becomes the dominant thought
that I can’t stop thinking,
and when what I am seeing is so exciting
it becomes the defining meaning of everything
I am intensely feeling.

My Poem ‘Hang Out’

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

In arcades, in malls, in parks,
in places where people assemble like disciples,
in large groups, in smalls numbers,
there are places that continue to attract people,
for one reason or another,
because of what they mean,
and because of what they offer.

Friends meet up to talk, to see each other,
to catch up, to share some time with each other,
to have a drink with each other,
to have lunch with each other,
to maybe see a film at the cinema with each other,
to have fun with each other,
to celebrate life, and to continue to bond with each other.

The things that interest us,
the things that we think about
and feel the most passionate about,
are mostly the same things
that our friends think about,
and usually that is the reason that they are our friends;
the things that we could only share with our friends,
and talk about with our friends,
are usually the things that we cannot speak
to anyone else about –
because unless they know us and who we are,
the context of what we have to say
would be unfathomable to understand.

It’s easy to hang out with people who you don’t know,
but have something in common with,
now more than ever;
where before you would have to arrange a place
and a time to see and to talk to someone,
now, in the instantaneous interconnected age
of infinitely accessible knowledge,
we all can reach out in a second to someone
who might live five thousand miles away,
or five minutes down the road,
and have a conversation with them
using incredible technology in the palm of your hand,
as well as share moments that you have captured
and think they might like.

For thousands of years, people young and old,
children and adults, at different stages in their lives,
have come together to be in the same place,
at the same time as people
with whom they are exactly alike
to the degree that you might think
that they were separated at birth.
The draw to something amazing, and mesmerizing –
a feeling, a light, a flame, a memory,
an individual, a shared understanding –
is one that everybody and every thing
has felt and feels daily in all walks of life,
and to those who are members of every species on Earth.

There are things that we all want to discover,
and learn more about;
there are people who we wish we knew personally,
and we feel things for them
that before them we never felt.
There are clubs, colours, books,
music, past-times, fashions,
that can unite the many and the few, equally –
so much so that they make our heart shout.
There will always be places, and people,
where, and with with whom,
that we will crave to be, and to see,
to spend as much time in their embrace,
and simply hang out.