poetry

My Poem “Dear Dad”

Mark Hastings Poetry , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 
Whenever a beam of sunlight touches us,
whenever a red-breasted robin
comes to visit us,
whenever we see a white feather
on the path before us,
whenever we feel someone
standing beside us,
whenever we see your face within our mind,
we know that you have returned to us
to make sure we are OK,
as you put your hand upon our shoulders,
as you continue to smile
your one of a kind smile,
as your blue eyes continue to shine
brighter than the stars of night sky,
as you continue to give us the gift of you,
as well as your amazing presence and radiating spirit,
as we all continue to feel
your everlasting love.

I can not believe that it has been
a year since I last saw you,
I can not believe that it has been
a year since I last heard your voice,
I can not believe that it has been
a year since I last held your hand;
every day, I still feel our bond and our connection...
every day, I can still feel your presence
and I have felt comforted by the knowledge
that I know you are now living a life
somewhere beyond what can be seen -
because you have visited me
and you have spoken to me
now multiple times in my dreams.

Life will never again
be the same as it was...
every day I think about you,
and I can still recall how
devastated and distraught
I was when I found out
that you had been taken from us...
I am not the same as I was,
nor could anyone hope to be
following the loss of someone
who meant the world to them,
as you will always mean to me...
I will always remember all that
you gave me and all that you taught me,
and I will continue your legacy
for as long as I live...
to me, you will always be
the best father anyone ever had
and you will always be
my inspiration and my hero,
my incredible and my always
near and dear Dad.
David William George Hastings
6th January 1949 - 8th December 2022

My Poem “All the difference”

Mark Hastings Poetry , , , , , , , , , , , , , 
Even after all this time,
even after all those tears,
even after all the lies,
even after all the fears -
there it is: that which has always
been there for me to return to...
even after all the moments of heartbreak,
even after all the love that has been wasted,
even after all the lying faces,
even after all the secrets -
there they are: they who
know who and what they are,
no matter what facades
they currently choose to use...
even after all my heart has been through,
even after all the avenues of thought
my mind has gone down,
even after all the answers that I found
about what made others who they were -
there, more and more than ever before,
I see people who I used to know
showing me that I was once so
foolish to give them the gift of my trust,
and even though to them the past
is the past
I still have the same means to
access the memories of long ago
and remember what was said,
when, why, and with whom...
even after we all walk away
from something, someone, somewhere,
we always leave something behind,
we always leave an impression,
we always leave a shadow,
we always leave clues that can be used
to retrace our steps -
even those we thought had long since been erased;
we always return to what we knew,
we always return to who we knew,
we always return to where we knew -
however, when we ultimately do,
we always have an opportunity
to choose,
even if it is only retrospectively,
whether we would make the same
decisions again, and though
there is no definitive way to know
what would have happened
if different choices had been made,
it is still fascinating to wonder
how life would have panned out
if we had found something
we were looking for
when we were originally looking for it,
and we were able to say outloud:
"There it is" -
because one thing can always
make all the difference.

My Poem “It’s the thought that counts”

Mark Hastings Poetry , , , , , , , , , , , 
Christmas decorations are being put up...
Christmas lights are being switched on...
Christmas cards are being written...
Christmas presents are being bought
and are being sent all around the world.....
Christmas music is being played
in Cafés, supermarkets, and in department stores...
Christmas movies are being shown
on television...
Christmas sweaters are being worn...
Christmas beverages and food
are being enjoyed and consumed...
Christmas plans are being made...
Christmas is a time of the year
that some people love everything about;
however, for some people,
Christmas is a time of the year
when they feel at their lowest
and at their most lonely
because when they look at their life,
and when they look back on Christmases  gone by,
they wonder where and when
the magic of Christmas went
that they used to feel when they were a child...
Christmas is when we should all
want to gather together
and catch up with one another;
but the reality of Christmas, nowadays -
behind all the customs, the rituals,
the tinsel, the lights, and the trimmings -
is that not everybody can, nor will,
ever be able to forgive one another
or get along with each other;
but one of the most important things
that we can do is to keep the people
who matter to us in our thoughts
and not worry about who gets
what, when, why, or how -
because, whether some people
believe it, or not,
when it comes to Christmas,
or to any time of celebration,
the most important thing to never forget
is that, when all is said and done,
no matter what anyone says,
the thought of something,
and the thought of someone,
really is all that should count.


My Poem “The Embodiment of Poetry”

Mark Hastings Poetry , , , , , , , , , , , , , 
I walked into the woods today...
I returned to a place that I know well
and a place that knows me...
I saw the same trees that I have
known for over a decade,
and as soon as I entered the place
where the poet in me was born
I saw echoes of myself from the past -
and I felt as if, once again,
I was seeing a version of myself
who had yet to have suffered
the scars and the losses that I had.

I have always felt blessed with inspiration
whenever I go back to where things began for me -
the place that I have a memory of
which is so clear and special,
the place where I only remember feeling
an abundance of happiness,
the place that I consider
a fountain of poetry,
that I have been back to many times over the years;
however, today, this time,
from the moment that I reentered
the oasis of life that over time
has become the endless kaleidoscope
of memories, experiences,
and thoughts from the moment that I saw it,
I felt as if I were returning
truly changed and different
from who I was when I first visited.

I felt it almost immediately:
I was not the same person as I was,
and yet I was still the same poet
who I have always been -
but now filled with the things
of mine taken from the shadows
of the monuments that define my life...
I felt like I was one of the trees,
and I felt as if they were
as close to me as family...
I felt like I had been waiting for something
which was always there -
but, before today, I could not perceive
what had always been all around me
and right in front of me.

I had been away from this place for a long time -
but as soon as I was once again surrounded by the storytellers of nature itself, 
it did not take me long to complete the puzzle within me,
by using the pieces I had
left behind from the last time I was there,
to realise that I am,
and I have always been,
what I always wanted to be:
the embodiment of poetry.

My Poem “From Time to Time”

Mark Hastings Poetry , , , , , , , , , , 
In white writing
on black leather
I saw the warning
"Nothing lasts forever" -
something I have known all my life,
but recently more acutely than ever.

I have never been blind
to the fact that the universe
is constantly sending us all
messages and signs...
I have never been oblivious
to the fact that some things are created
and some people are
the way that they are
for reasons that might not become clear for a considerable amount of time.

Sometimes, people do not know
why they chose to make the choices
that they did at a particular moment...
sometimes, people can see
what is to come -
both the good and the bad -
and they decide to proceed anyway,
because we all know that life is
sometimes both scarier than a horror movie
and sometimes ridiculous
enough to make us laugh.

From the day that we are born,
the world changes around us...
from the time that we are grown
and we see, and we understand,  
that nothing and no one
is meant to be eternal,
we know that there will come
a day when life will go to great
lengths in order to teach us
all a lesson about what matters
when everything is said and done...
we all have to live the life
that was always meant for us.

From what I have seen,
and from what I have learned,
I would say to anyone who
still has no idea what
they are supposed to do
when it comes to making a decision -
whether seemingly insignificant,
or one that is life-changing -
never forget that we are
allowed to make mistakes,
and perhaps repeat the same mistakes over and again.
Why? Because whether we
want to believe it, or not,
each and every one of us is a mystery -
sometimes even to ourselves -
and sometimes the slow discovery
of who we are can make us all feel better
about the most random things in life
that we have accumulated, remembered,
and sometimes we pick out from
our individual internal memory tombola
that we revist from time to time.

My Poem “The Other Side of The World”

Mark Hastings Poetry , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 
So many people are looking
for a new beginning...
so many people are in need
of a direction...
so many people wish that they
had something in their lives
that would give them a feeling of belonging...
so many people have friends
and family members who they love -
but they know that what they want
lies beyond what and where they have always known...
so many people have felt this insatiable
draw to get on a plane and jet off
to somewhere over the horizon...
so many people have this instinct
that compels them to go somewhere
they have never been before,
because the place they are going to
may feel so much like paradise
it could easily be a place within a dream...
so many people are just waiting
for something or someone
to give them the push they need
to take a life-changing leap...
so many people look around at their lives
and they feel that they need more...
so many people do not know
that they have been imprisoned by something,
someone, somewhere, for some time,
until they are looking up
at an unbroken blue sky
and they know what it feels like
to be truly free...
so many people have chosen
to do something profoundly special
and adventurous in the pursuit
of finding their life's purpose,
and so many people have found themselves
choosing to start a new life
thousands of miles away
from the country of their birth
in places that lie far away
on the other side of the world.

My Poem “A Matter of Time”

Mark Hastings Poetry , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 
I have always revisted the past...
I have always lived in the present...
I have always looked forward to the future -
and there are times when I experience
the past, the present, and the future collide:
as if something momentous has happened,
something revelatory,
something that reminds me,
yet again, that life is, essentially,
multidimensional verses of poetry,
and I get to see and understand
things
that I could not and would not
have been able to at any other time -
because I was not ready.

I remember so much...
moments mean more to me than most...
I keep touchstones of experiences
that enable me to travel through time
that can happen as slow and as subtle
as a raindrop falling from above,
or as fast and as forceful as a gust...
I can still recall how people looked,
how places were, what was said,
what song was playing on the radio -
in some cases more than others,
over the timeline of my life -
and when some moments, in particular,
do resurface and come back into focus,
it almost feels as if everything that
has happened and will happen
is all happening all at once.

In some ways, sometimes,
we all must change...
in some ways, sometimes,
we all must break the mould
that we have been cast in...
in some ways, sometimes,
we all must act and not necessarily know
what the next steps to take will be...
in some ways, sometimes,
it is better to not think too much
about what has yet to happen -
and sometimes it is good
to have a goal in front of you to focus on.

We are all pilots, as well as passengers,
travelling through the vortex of time
hoping that one day we will eventually
land and find ourselves somewhere
that will give us what we have been
searching for, without even knowing it...
we are all capable of extraordinary things
and each of us can do something
that uniquely defines us -
and yet, one thing that life teaches all of us
is that the moment that you think
you know it all or have seen it all
you will discover that you don't,
you haven't, you won't, and you can't;
and why?
Because sometimes we are
not meant to know everything -
only what we need to know,
but not always what we want to know;
because everything is a matter of time.

My Poem “Everything to Me”

Mark Hastings Poetry , , , , , , , , , , , 
On the night after my Dad died,
I ran away into the city -
I wanted to lose myself
within the metropolis of people,
because I felt like I had lost
something inside of me...
on the night after my Dad died,
I walked the illuminated city streets
not knowing where I was going to go,
nor who I was going to meet...
on the night after my Dad died,
I felt more alone than I had ever felt in my life...
on the night after my Dad died,
I wanted to scream, I wanted to shout, I wanted to cry -
but, in all honesty, I could not control my emotions
so instead I felt numb but as if I were walking around
with a gaping wound in my chest
that exposed my bleeding heart
that felt like it had been repeatedly
stabbed by a knife.

On the night after my Dad died,
I unexpectedly met some new friends
who all already knew one another
and who had gathered together
to share a Christmas drink -
and though I had never met any of them before
I knew that there was something
to my meeting them that seemed like
someone or something wanted me
to form a brand new link...
on the night after my Dad died,
I remember being angry at whomever
or whatever had taken my Dad away from me...
on the night after my Dad died,
I could not believe what had happened, what I had seen -
and even now, and always, I will never be able to comprehend
this nightmarish new reality I am living in
that I wish was just a bad dream.

On the night after my Dad died -
after spending most of the night talking,
connecting, and intoxicated, with my new friends -
I said goodbye, and then, after I somehow made my way home,
I reflected upon what had happened
through a mirrored torrent of tears,
and I wondered what was going to happen next
and who I now was -
and though no clear answers came to me,
I knew that my world, as I knew it,
had come to an end.

My Dad is always with me -
I feel him around me, within me,
like the glow and the feeling
of some kind of perpetual spirit and light
that I know is my Dad speaking to me,
reaching out to me, guiding me,
giving me the gift of his unending love
that will always mean everything to me.

-Mark Hastings
22/12/22

In memory of my Dad,
David William George Hastings
6/1/1949 - 8/12/2022

My Poem “Shadow of Death”

Mark Hastings Poetry , , , , , , , , , , , , 
All my footprints have gone...
all my fingerprints have disappeared...
all my impressions have been undone...
all my loves have been lost -
it is as if what happened never happened
and now I am the only one
who remembers or cares
that I once used to be with someone,
sometime, somewhere.

I never used to believe in true endings
until this year,
and now it feel as if life is not done
teaching me the lesson that I, nor anybody,
has true control over what happens...
I never believed that hope would abandon me -
but something is telling me and showing me
that the days of knowing what to do and when
are out of my hands and from now on
I am going to have to do more
to keep the once perpetual light
of optimism within me lit,
because even the most intense
and raging fire can be doused
and can even go out for good.

All my life, I took more for granted than I realised -
and it is only now, that I am bereft of what
and who I used to rely on,
that I understand where I have been going wrong,
where and when I should have done more,
and made the most of moments
that I thought would last for ever,
but were always only temporary...
all my life, I have been blessed
and I have been surrounded
by more that I could have ever wished or asked for;
and now that things, and people, have left me
I find myself wondering if, when, and how
my life could make sense ever again -
because I have been changed forever
in ways that not even I could describe
or capture in poetry.

The future, to me, is now one day at a time...
the past, to me, is now like somewhere
I once knew that I wont see or repeat again
until I reach my own version of the end...
the present is dark, and even the lights I see,
to me, have lost their once vibrant shine...
reality, for me, has been fractured too badly
for anything or anyone to be able to mend -
because I will always be haunted and living
under the shadow of death.

My Poem “No One Is Ever Alone”

Mark Hastings Poetry , , , , , , , , , , , , 
It's scary how fast time goes by...
It's scary how fast things can change...
It's scary how many times in our lives
we have to say goodbye...
It's scary how many people
have found themselves staring into space
as they wonder what's next?

Everybody has a dream that they
hope and pray will become a reality someday...
Everybody has a nightmare that
they wish will never come to pass...
Everybody has an ideal life
that they always imagine, 
which within their mind can seem so real
and so tangible that they can almost
make themselves believe
that all they have to do is
simply to choose to
get out of their own way...
Everybody has lost someone
who has meant something to them -
and the best way to remember
and to honour someone, in my experience,
is to take the time to stop
what you are doing and realise
that every moment is like a page
being turned in a book,
which soon transitions from being the present into becoming the past,
which leaves an impression
but not always one that is meant to last.

Life, like the universe,
can seem so big for such a small word...
Life, especially when we are young,
can seem too incredible and sometimes too unfathomable
for our minds to handle...
Life is a question with an answer -
but you have to stay until the end
in order to find out...
Life is complicated and emotional...
Life is not always good
and life is not always bad...
Life is a riddle that some people
work out slowly but surely,
while others take a more direct approach
and miss the point of why
some things happen
and why some things don't.

A traveller of time and space once said that:
"Fear can be a superpower" -
and, if you think back over your life
and everything that you have been through,
you will realise that though things
might not have gone how you
might once have envisioned they would
things happened the way that they had to,
because life consists of each and every one of us
making a difference and leaping
into the unknown with a secret:
that "No One Is Ever Alone."