My Poem “Subculture”

It has always fascinated me
how no matter what century it is
the various ages of culture
ultimately give rise to subcultures
of people who all walk to
the same beat of the same drum...
it has always been a source of inspiration
for me how on some level
everybody is always looking for a group
of like-minded individuals
who talk the same way,
who dress the same way,
and who feel the same way about things,
about the world, about how they have
for so long been misunderstood -
and what brings them the most joy
in the world most likely does not
fit into the same mould of what is
considered to be mainstream or "normal".

It has always interested me
how easily people feel as if they
can be themselves when they are
given the opportunity to visit a place
which is sacred to them and safe for them
to indulge themselves in the conventions
of the subculture that they are
a practicing member of,
that are so iconic and expected
they have over time become a stereotype...
it has always given me a sense of acceptance
every time I have looked around the world
and without even having to try
I have been able to recognize
the unmistakable signs that point towards
someone who I might not know,
and who does not know me,
but who I may share similar sensibilities with,
who do not spend any effort or time
in disguising the fact that when it comes
to the road of life they are constantly
walking a thin line.

It is has always been a way of life
for the young of a society
to rebel against the rules of their parents
and thumb their nose at authority figures
so as to test the limits of what they can do,
in order to make their voice be heard;
however, sometimes when a certain
group of people feel as if they are being
unduly silenced then speech can slowly
transform into acts of delinquency,
disrespect, and disorder.

It will always be the case
that some people will want to believe
certain individual beliefs...
some people will always want
to live a certain way of life...
some people will always want
to act upon their instincts
and express what is meaningful to them -
because some things, to some people,
feel so indelible they are indistinguishable
from their nature...
it goes without saying that normality
is a matter of opinion and perspective -
and where some may look at a group
of people and consider them to
have nothing constructive to offer
others might look at those same people
in the same way that they would look
at a family member,
because to them they are an example
of how an idea can grow and endure
under the radar as a subculture.

A Poem A Day #12: The Eyes of Masks

“The Eyes of Masks” by Mark Hastings was taken from Mark’s poetry collection ‘Poet of the Sphere’ which was published in 2012 by Zeloo Media. Check out more of Mark’s poetry online @ http://MarkThePoet.Me – all poems © Mark Hastings

A Poem A Day #11: Worth Every Verse

“Worth Every Verse” by Mark Hastings was taken from Mark’s poetry collection ‘Poet of the Sphere’ which was published in 2012 by Zeloo Media. Check out more of Mark’s poetry online @ http://MarkThePoet.Me – all poems © Mark Hastings

My Poem “To my Mum”

To the woman who from the day that
I was born has given me the gift
of unconditional love…
to the woman who carried me,
who has held me, who has thought about me,
and who has been there for me my entire life –
no matter what you have have been going through:
I have always felt blessed that
you are my kind and caring Mum
and I am your adoring son.

To the woman whose smile
has made me smile more times
throughout my life than I can count:
you have been the best example
of who and what a mother should be,
and those of us who are your children
every day consider ourselves lucky
to have a part of you in us
and to have a part of us in you-
because you are a role-model
for being a mother like nobody else…
to the woman who has sent her children
off to sleep every night with
a blessing of sweet dreams:
you do not know how much
what you do matters, nor what your
effortless love has always meant
and what your love will always mean.

To the woman who gave birth to me…
to the woman who has always
accepted me for who I am and who has
always praised me for what I do…
to the woman who has always given me what I needed more than anything in the world…
to the woman who I could not thank enough
for being amazing in every way –
this poem is dedicated to you:
Bernadette Marie Christine Hastings,
my one and only, my one of a kind,
the best in the world, Mum.

Happy Mother’s Day! 🙂

My Poem “Sunbeam”

The afternoon light of the sun
shone down upon me
as I sat looking out of the window
at the world going by,
and just as I began to close my eyes
and I let out a deep sigh
I felt this instant rise of inspiration
and exhilaration that caused my heart to beat fast,
my thoughts to become enlivened,
and my imagination to become enlightened.

I felt like a flower that unfurls its petals
at the beginning of the day
as soon as they are touched
by the energy of the sun’s rays…
I didn’t know how much I needed
the gift that the sun bestowed upon me
until I was sitting there
and my poetic soul was reawakened.

There are moments when even
the most hopeful of humanity
feel low on inspiration,
weighed down by emotion,
and even lost and bereft of love –
but then a stream of light
that had to travel from 93 million miles away
arrives and gives a new burst of life
and reignites the overactive thoughts
of someone with a kaleidoscope of dreams
like that of the spectrum of colour
found within a sunbeam.

My Poem “Escapism”

Reality is tangible, and yet there are times
when reality can feel absolutely unbelievable…
the real world is sometimes managible,
the real world is sometimes even palatable –
but occasionally the “real world” can
at times feel too much to handle.

Reality is physical and undoubtedly
it can at times feel painful…
the real world, the outside world,
is where things get done,
where progress is made,
where we get to look people in the eye,
where we get to share a smile,
where we get to experience things
that are grounded in nature –
but the real world is also where
the weight of certain things
upon our emotions and upon
our thoughts and upon our dreams
can sometimes make us all feel fragile.

Reality is life – but every so often
everybody needs a dose of something
that they have never seen before,
or perhaps something that they
may have seen over and over again…
everybody needs a vision of a life
and of a world unlike the one
that they are daily familiar with…
everybody needs to have this place,
this time, those moments,
those out of body experiences
when they get let their imagination
run wild so that it can play along with all
of the fantastic possibilities of creativity
that they see – which may not be
a true reflection of the everyday world,
but which are always considered to be
a source of hope to help people cope
and to get some much needed escapism.

My Poem “Frozen Tears”

The snow fell slowly…
the snow fell deep…
the snow fell quietly…
the snow fell so peacefully
that while I was watching it
I drifted off to sleep.

In the morning, as I looked out
at the blue sky above
and at the white snow below,
I felt like I was a child
and I wanted to go outside
and walk in the snow –
and that is exactly what I did:
I put on my walking boots,
my coat, my scarf, and I threw
my rucksack on to my back
and I set out, one step at a time,
to explore the frozen beauty of nature
and the wonderful sights
that most of the time remain hid
before it was too late –
because even in nature things
are not always meant to last.

The sound of the snow cracking beneath
the soles of my boots was invigorating –
most likely because the sound of my own
footsteps was all that I could hear…
the way that the crystallised snow
sparkled and glistened as the sun
shined upon the pure white path
before me was dreamlike –
untouched, vast, like being within
a moment of time in which
there was no beginning and no end:
like staring at an eternal representation
of life and nature and feeling so moved
by this overwhelming and profound landscape;
and yet, even though I wanted to cry,
I was unable to conjure any tears –
I instead choose to close my eyes,
to breathe in and to breathe out,
to smile from ear to ear,
and to feel more blessed
that I had felt for years.

My poem “It’s a Boy!”

On the 21st of January, 2021,
my sister Clare and my brother-in-law Ben
were blessed by the birth of their baby son –
and I just wanted to write something
to welcome this brand new gift of hope
to the world and reassure him that
for all the days of his life
he will always be blessed by love.

Last night there was storm of rain,
but at the moment that my sister Clare’s
baby boy was born the clouds literally parted
and the sun shone upon everyone
brighter than it had done so for months –
and as soon as I was told that my new nephew
had arrived safe and sound
and was in his mother’s arms
I immediately felt this overwhelming
feeling of pride for what my sister had done
and I quietly conveyed my belief
that no matter what happened
my new nephew could rest assured
that he would never knowingly
come to any harm.

The ability to create new life
is one of the greatest gifts in the universe…
the phenomenon that someone
who you have known all your life
can still find ways to surprise you
in rising to the occasion of becoming
something bigger than themselves
is truly an awe-inspiring and a breathtaking
superpower that to me has always
been beyond any words.

I have never been prouder
of my sister Clare than I am today…
I have never been happier for anyone
than I am for my sister Clare
and for my brother-in-law Ben right now
because of the arrival of their new
buddle of love and joy…
I have never wanted to meet anyone
like I am looking forward to meeting
my new nephew…
I have never been more overjoyed
to share any news with anybody
than I am to say that my family now has
a brand new beacon of hope in our lives
in the form of a beautiful baby boy: Milo!

🥳🎊🎉🧑‍🍼🤱👶😍

My Poem “The Blackout”

One second there was light
and the next there was darkness…
One second all was bright
and the next I couldn’t see
my hand in front of my face…
One second I was looking at
my phones illuminated screen
and the next I was using the torch
of my phone to guide my way…
One second the sun was shining
and the next it had completely
disappeared below the horizon
heralding the end of the day.

I still remember those days
and those nights when I was a child
when the power used to go out
every now and again –
but whenever it happens now
it is always a complete and utter surprise
to the degree that some people
still attempt to flick light-switches
on and off multiple times
perhaps believing that they can cause
somekind of electrical reset.

It’s strange looking out of the window
at night and seeing all the streetlights off…
it’s odd having no power, no light,
and no heat for a short amount of time –
but such an experience does make you truly appreciate how much we all
do sometimes take for granted
the gift of instant electricity,
and how much when we do not have it
at out disposal some of us feel immediately lost.

When the lights come on again,
when the TV screens flicker back to life,
and when we no longer have any further need
for the torches and the candles that we
had lit as temporary sources of light,
we all feel thankful to be able
to see clearly and to feel comfortable
once again in our world of modern enlightenment
that for a time had been taken away from us
by the inconvenience of a brief
but significant neigbourhood blackout.