poetry

My Poem “Loyal Companion”

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

All those times when they looked up
at you with love in their eyes…
all those times when you would both
snuggle up to one another
and they would lay their head upon your chest…
all those times when you would
kiss them and they would kiss you
and they would want you
to stroke them as they rolled over…
all those times when you would both
go out for a walk, when you would talk
and even though they did not say a word
you knew that they were listening to you intently…
all those times when they would know
you were home even before they saw you,
when they would prick up their ears,
when they would wag their tail
and they would be so overjoyed
when they finally saw you.

There are no words to describe
what it is like to have an animal,
a best friend, a member of your family
who knows you better than you know yourself,
who you could never forget
all those times, all those moments,
and all those treasured and unforgettable
memories that you shared with them,
that you will always remember,
which you shared with a soul mate
who to you was more than a pet
and who to you will always be
a life long loyal companion.

My Poem “Every New Someone”

Mark Hastings life, me, Poetry , , , , , , , , ,

Holding a newborn baby in your arms
always brings home how precious,
how fragile, and how utterly unique
each of us truly are…
looking into a newborn baby’s
big blue eyes reminds us all
that everybody who arrives into this world
has the right to be given the best life
and to be protected by their new family
from coming to any harm…
seeing how dependent every new
gift to the world is to who they are
born to reminds us all that
even though every child born is a miracle
no child can grow and develop independently
of the energy and the influences
that constantly surround them…
being in the presence of a couple
who are the parents of a newborn
and seeing how through trial and error
they learn how to work together
to be there for their child when
they need them really brings home
the message and the meaning of life
that reminds all of us to be in awe
at the arrival of every new someone.

My Poem “Naturally Reflective”

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

I am so reflective
that I might as well be a mirror…
my emotions flow so easily
I might as well be a river…
I am sometimes so transparent
I might as well be a window…
I am so easy to read
that I might as well be a book
because most of the time the expression
is one easy that accurately conveys
my feelings and my thoughts…
I am like a dark moonlit ocean…
I am like the spinning chrome rim
of a car wheel that is constantly in motion…
I am like a light-bulb whose face
brightens or dims depending upon
what I am talking about and who I am with…
I am like a stream of sunlight
after it passes through a prism of glass –
because when all of the individual
collective components that make me
who I am spill out of me
like water through a sive
all of the droplets of inspiration that
I have accumulated within me
share themselves so effortlessly,
because for better or for worse
I am and I have always been
someone who is naturally reflective.

Mark The Poet – Episode #69: “Life As We Know It”

Mark Hastings life, me, Podcast, Poetry , , , , , , , , ,
In this episode Mark reads three of his most recent poems: “It’s A Boy!”, “Frozen Tears”, and “Always”. Mark also attempts to share a message of hope for those who like most of the world are struggling with living their life as best as they can during the challenging times the people of the world are currently facing.

My Poem “Always”

Mark Hastings Blog, life, me, Podcast, Poetry , , , , , , , , , , ,

My heart goes out to everybody
who is having to adapt to doing things
and to living their life as best as they can
in a vastly different way than they had
previously known how to
since all of the restrictions put upon
their interactions, the way that they shop,
how they work, and how they learn
were introduced in order
to combat against an unseen
and an easily transmissible enemy
that has seemingly brought
the modern world to a stand still.

My heart goes out to parents,
because most of them have had
to adapt to becoming not only
their child’s guardian and around
the clock source of entertainment,
but they have also had to become
their child’s tutor and home school teacher –
and in most cases parents are struggling
to be all the things that their child
needs them to be all of the time,
while perhaps also simultaneously
having to juggle the responsibility
of being a supportive partner.

My heart goes out to the children
of this generation who want to learn
and who dream of becoming something
and someone with a calling
and a purpose in life to be fulfilled…
my heart goes out to those families
who are having to share their one
and only means of accessing the Internet
and those who are having to take it in turns
to seek out some kind of escapism
from the stark reality of world events
in any way that they can.

One thing that is undeniable
is that life is hard for people right now,
and the world, unfortunately,
seems more fragmented than ever;
however, whenever I see new art being created,
whenever I hear of new music being shared,
whenever I find out about new
innovations that are being made,
whenever I look beyond the shores
of my island home,
I am reminded of how resilient the human spirit is –
which is why I do not stop myself
from believing that with a little time,
patience, and perseverance
the human race will one day
collectively come out from
the shadow of this dark era
more resolute than ever,
stronger than ever,
consistently riding the waves of change,
because we have always been a species
who no matter what has always found a way.







					

		
		
	




			
				


	

		

					
My Poem “Missing Time”

								

								 Mark Hastings
															me, Poetry					
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Since the start of this
world-shattering pandemic
I know deep in my soul
that I have missed the sound
of a particular source of music -
a soundtrack, a beat,
a rhythm of life that can be heard,
felt, and seen within your minds eye,
whether it be morning, noon, or night:
the same pulse of inspiration
that first surged within me
at the very moment when
I knew that I was born to be a poet.

What I love about writing
and what keeps me coming back
to the blank page time and again
is the same thing that I miss
about sitting in a café
surrounded by people,
before the days of mandatory masks
and before compulsory social distancing.

The thrill of the unknown,
the magic of the instantaneous,
the order and the chaos that to me
always made sense and which I could
always easily pull into focus:
all that being an artist is all about...
you can't plan for it, you can only create it
when you feel it within you boiling away
with such ferocity that you know
it is about to explode -
which is why artists need to capture
what occurs to them before
whatever idea forms combusts into dust
and becomes as spectral as a ghost.

I yearn to go back in time...
I wish that I could return to a place
at a point in the past where and when
I truly believed every moment
would always last...
I still cannot believe that we are all
living in the world that greets my senses
and compels my thoughts
and my emotions so overwhelmingly...
I wish that I could do something,
I wish that I could write something,
I wish that I could imagine something
that might serve to transport
everybody away from our current stark reality -
perhaps to a moment of peace, joy, and love
that the world once enjoyed,
or to a time in the future when I know
the memory of our current present
will not be as potent.

I have personal places
and I have particular times
where and when I return to within
my thoughts and within my dreams
that mean the world to me
that feel so close to me that I could
reach out and grasp them:
perfect moments the like of which
everybody has, which we all would do
anything to get back to,
which we never stop missing
and which are among life's
most precious of blessings.

					

		
		
	




			
				


	

		

					
My Poem “There is always hope”

								

								 Mark Hastings
															life, me, Podcast, Poetry					
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When you are a child
there is no more magical
and joyful moment of your life
than around Christmas time
when you get to write a letter
to a man in a red suit, with a white beard,
who on Christmas day will deliver
all that you have been asking for
for perhaps all of the previous months of the year –
and with a high degree of certainty
there could be no one more popular
than the ever jovial Father Christmas/
Santa Claus/Saint Nicholas himself
who children dream about, write to,
and draw pictures of, as well as his
ever present reindeer and his trusted elves.


Christmas is for everybody…
Christmas is full of positivity, possibilities,
and you truly start to get into the Christmas spirit
as soon as you start to hang the decorations
upon your newly bought, or perhaps your
perennially rediscovered, Christmas tree…
Christmas is a season for hope,
optimism, friendship and family…
Christmas is when people need
other people more than anything –
and the greatest gift that you can
give anybody is your time,
because not only is time precious
but it is also free.


Christmas time can sometimes be hard –
even when their isn’t a dark cloud
hovering over every one in every country –
and so many people do not have
the opportunity to be with somebody
on December the 25th,
which is why everybody young and old
need to remind themselves why it is
important to be there for those
who we are blessed to know
as well as for those who may not know
and who may live on their own.



Christmas time should be hopeful
and without fears and tears…
Christmas time should be about
showing love, as well as about being
happy and merry while listening
to Christmas songs that have endured for years…
Christmas time is a wonderful time
that is capable of making anybody
of any age feel as if they are a child…
Christmas time is a whirlwind
of emotions at the best of times,
however when people are at their most
in need of something and someone
to believe in they can look no further
than to whomever matters the most to them
to give them the gift of a Christmas star
to enlighten and to signal that
even on the darkest of nights
there is always hope.


Merry Christmas! 🙂🥳🎄🎊🎋





					

		
		
	




			
				


	

		

					
My Poem “Celestial Love”

								

								 Mark Hastings
															Poetry					
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Let us take to the road

and we’ll go for a drive…

let us take out a boat

and we’ll sail upon the waves

of an ocean all day and all night…

let us take a plane

and we’ll fly to Spain…

let us take a hot air balloon

and we’ll drift above dark clouds

full of thunder and rain…

let us take a rocket

and we’ll launch into space…

let us float above the Earth in zero-gravity

and we’ll look down at everybody

and wave as we hold one another

in an out of this world embrace…

let us fall asleep side by side

on a starship to a solar system

that has two stars within it instead of one

and before we know it we’ll be waking up

and having to convince ourselves

that what we are seeing is better than a dream…

let us make a new home for ourselves

upon the surface of an alien planet

that looks like Earth but which

from orbit looks to be more blue than green –

and after we settle down upon

this new place of possibility

we’ll look up to the stars above

through a telescope and find

Earth’s flickering blue glow

and we’ll both look at one another

and agree that even in comparison

to all the wonders of the universe

there has never been two souls

who have always been meant to be,

because our life is a constant

celebration of our celestial love.

					

		
		
	




			
				


	

		

					
My Poem “The Merry Go Around”

								

								 Mark Hastings
															Poetry					
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Enlivened by the bright blue sky,
enlightened by the sublime sunshine,
entertained by the festive music filling the air,
entranced by the revolutions
of the red and gold merry-go-round,
as I stand with a cup of
hot chocolate in my hand,
as the world around me
feels like I am underneath a clear dome –
like that of an enclosed globe
just waiting to be turned upside down
so that there can be a a flurry of snow –
everything feels like it should be
at this time of the year,
everybody appear to be in good spirits
and enjoying the gift of the season’s greetings,
and there is a palpable calmness
as if everybody is catching their breath…
it is a wonderful sight to see
both adults and children look up
in wonder at the illuminated decorations
and the gleaming baubles
of the many Christmas trees
and to see people young and old
smile for what might have been
the first time in a long time,
because this year has been filled
with so much uncertainty…
there are echoes of the voices
of the lost to be heard,
there are welcome flashes
of hopefulness to be found…
there are whispers of a cure
for what shadows the present
coming within the near future,
as the sounds of hope ring out
in the form of Christmas bells
that inspire meaningful moments
of merriment as people ride
and as people are drawn to
the magical sight of a spinning
Christmas Merry-go-around.





					

		
		
	




			
				


	

		

					
My Poem “The Kite Flyer”

								

								 Mark Hastings
															Poetry					
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Over time we learn more about the world,

we learn more about ourselves,

and more about how the biology,

the chemistry, and the physics

of the universe actually works –

by asking questions, by seeking connections,

by looking at our own reflection,

by making mistakes, by taking missteps,

by “going off the reservation”,

by doing things, by choosing things,

and by believing in things

beyond what we know that we need to grow,

but which can innitially seem

as ephemeral and as fleeting as snow,

and then slowly but surely

we build up within us memories,

experiences, recollections, and dreams

of a person, of a place, of a time

that can resonate like a beacon to guide us

and potentially save us in instances of twilight,

that we must hold on to and marvel at

like the stars but never let go of –

like a kite twisting and turning

against a blue sky on a day

when the force of the energy all around us

feels like it could easily

lift us off of the ground.