remember

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.

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My Poem “Grounded”

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

One of the things that living
through times of uncertainty
teaches someone is to appreciate
all the things about a person’s life
that are the most essential…
one of the things that people
realize that they often take for granted,
especially when living through times of loss,
is the gift of knowing that
the friends and family members
are still managing to adapt
and to survive the best that they can.

One of the things that everybody
understands more acutely than they would
under normal circumstances
is why it is so important to tell people
how you feel about them, if you can,
when you can, how you can –
because sometimes things in life
do not always go to plan.

One of the things that people
have to deal with,
especially while learning how to deal with
the after-effects of a cataclysmic event,
is an unbelievable amount of stress
as well the sometimes difficult
endeavour of feeling under the weather,
trying to figure out how to live
when some connections
and when some avenues of stability
and serenity have been temporarily severed.

One of the things that the people
have to learn when they are travelling
down an unknown path
is the ability to course-correct,
to change how they think,
to change what they do,
and to remember what has always
kept them on the straight and narrow,
what their life revolves around,
and what it is in their life
that has always kept them grounded.

My Poem “The Angels of Sacrifice”

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

Remember the many…
Remember the brave…
Remember the lost…
Remember the scared…
Remember the tears…
Remember the cost…
Remember the courage…
Remember the men,
Remember the women,
and Remember the children
who still wear the scars of war,
the scars of chaos, the scars of confusion,
the scars of survival on the outside
and as well as those invisible scars
that they sometimes dwell
upon silently on the inside.

Always Remember why the world is
the way that it is,
and because of whom…
Remember, embrace,
and never forget the stories
of those who suffered through so much
in hope of helping to build
a brighter future for the next generation…
Remember, respect, remind,
and renew every day the gift of freedom
by never taking life for granted,
and by never forgetting all the heroes
who have sacrificed their lives
during times of war and utter darkness
and despair who soldiered on
no matter what for all the people
of every country of this fragile world.

Today, and every day,
if you are lucky enough to be able to do so,
take a moment to close your eyes,
to think, to Remember, and to appreciate
the angels in all their forms
who have walked this Earth –
whom you may have met –
who made a difference to the lives
of everybody simply by going to
where they were needed and by helping
those in the most urgent of need.

I will Remember, I will Never Forget –
and I hope that the memory
of the lost and the fallen
will always live on
in the consciousness of everybody.

Lest we forget.

My Poem “Throwback”

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

Every day, I look at things,
I look at people, I look at places,
and in my mind I am thrown back in time…
Every day I am reminded about
some of the things I have done,
some of the people I have met,
some of the places I have visited,
and what always follows
is an intoxication of memories,
feelings, colours, that rise
to the surface – like the bubbles
of a glass of wine…
every day, I read things that I have written,
I remember what I did and with whom,
and I am overcome with a wave of déjà vu
that floods my thoughts with
echoes of what came before
and what I had compartmentalized…
every day, I hold on tight to who
and what means the most to me
and I try to remember every detail
of everything as accurately as I can,
while trying to correct for
Mandela Effect – which is a
prime example of how sometimes
our own memories can play tricks on us
and even blatantly make things up…
every day, something new happens to all of us –
even if we don’t realize it…
every day something new becomes
the inspiration for an explorer,
a storyteller, a musician,
a dreamer, a poet, that has such
a phenomenal and an amazing
effect that the aftershocks
from the revelations – that feel
like the tectonic shifts
that you can physically feel
when the Earth moves beneath you –
continue to influence you
in everything that you commit to afterwards…
the past, the present, the future,
the outside, the inside,
the old, the new, would not be what they are
and they would not mean what they do
without our own personal perspective…
the world is built upon things
and moments that are not meant to last –
however, if it were not for
all of the things that we sometimes lose,
all of the things that we leave behind,
and all of the things that are not meant
to last then we would never know
the true meaning, nor experience
the incredible power, of moments of nostalgia,
gratitude, and reflection from something
that can serve as a wormhole back in time
through which we can cast our mind’s eye
upon something in particular:
a throwback to an earlier time in our life.

My Poem “A hundred years”

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

It has been a hundred years
since the First World War ended –
“the war to end all wars” –
and yet humanity still wages war
against itself every day…
it has been a hundred years
since brave men put their lives
on the line to bring peace
to the entire world –
and yet, every day, soldiers
still march, fight, and oppose
the might of an adversarial army and ideology
whose subscribed members
cannot always be plainly identified…
it has been a hundred years,
it has been a life-time,
it has been a century since families
put their hands together to pray
that we may never again see the day
when humanity would take up arms against itself –
and yet people still do harm to others every day,
and peace between everybody cannot be maintained…
it has been a hundred years
since the soldiers and the survivors of World War I
put down their weapons and began
the long walk of grief,
hoping to remember the fallen
and to never allow history to repeat itself;
however, 11 years after the end
of “the war to end all wars”,
another war sparked into life
and millions of people died –
and when it ended, six long years later,
the world was assured that the peace
that was won at a heavy cost would always endure…
it has been a hundred years
since an understanding was reached by many nations
to work together instead of fighting each other –
and yet, a hundred years since
war should have become a thing of the past,
our world is still in a constant struggle with itself
and not everybody wants to get along with one-another;
however, no matter the constant conflict
that still exists around the world,
I still remain hopeful that humanity
will one day find universal peace and serenity –
but hopefully it won’t need to take another hundred years
for the entire world to come to its senses
and learn to get along with each other
for the sake of our children’s future.

My Poem “The Long Way Round”

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

Some times it is good to go that extra mile…
some times it is worthwhile to go back
to where you came from…
some times it is good to revisit those places
that used to make you smile…
some times all you need is to return
to those open spaces that you will always remember
and let the winds of home
blow away the cobwebs of your memory,
and once again you can feel like you are
walking among old friends as you retrace
those steps that you made
that gave you a reason to not feel alone…
the shape of time is a sphere…
even those who feel lost
one day arrive back where their journey began
and again they feel found…
the walls that surround our heart
and our soul are crystal clear…
just as we take a step into the future
we also always take a step back into the past,
and while doing so we all always feel glad
that when given the choice to take the short and easy way
instead we chose to take our time, to smell the roses,
and see the sights along the way,
as we took the long way round.

My Poem “This is how it starts”

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

As we ring in a new year
there are fireworks, there are smiles,
there are wishes of hope, of joy,
and of endless hours of cheer…
As one year ends and as another year begins,
as the sun continues to perfectly rise and shine,
everybody hopes for the best days of their life
and they want every moment that they live
to be one that they will remember
as a time in their life
in which they were truly living…
As the world continues to turn
and change faster than we are able to perceive,
as the people that we have known all our lives grow older,
and as we all hopefully grow wiser,
everything around us shifts on its axis
and we all begin to realize
that every day is both a beginning and an end,
and the start of a new year can be
the first step that leads to wonders of light
that appear like stars that twinkle in the dark –
and for me that is how every first day
of every new year starts:
with a flash of light, like that of a burning spark.

Happy New Year! 🙂

My Poem “A December to Remember”

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

It isn’t December
until there is a flurry of snow…
It isn’t December
unless the temperature outside
is below zero…
It isn’t December
until Christmas songs
are playing on the radio…
It isn’t December
until you look around
and you see sparkling lights
and colourful decorations wherever you go.

December is a month filled
with both joy and sadness…
December is a month when we think
of those who we have lost
and who we still miss…
December is like living within a bauble
hanging upon the limb of a giant Christmas tree…
December has always been a time
that has meant something profound to me.

I love the traditions of buying a real Christmas tree,
bringing it home, and then as a family decorating it…
I love December because it is when people
have a excuse to think about others and give…
I love what the true meaning of Christmas represents
and why it is important to keep close to your heart
the things and the people who are like no other…
Every year it is my mission for everyone I know
to make the month of December
a December to remember.

My Poem “Bonfire Nights”

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

I remember the nights
of the fifth of November…
I remember the times
standing around, feeling the heat,
and basking in the glow of a bonfire…
I remember being a child
and being completely hypnotised
by the flickering of the flames
and by the sound of the cracking
of the furnace that burned before my eyes…
I remember watching the giant behemoth
that brought light to the darkness
and warmed the heart of my family and I…
I remember being a child and reciting to myself
the rhyme “remember, remember, the fifth of November”,
and having my imagination filled with images
of “gunpowder, treason, and plot”,
and watching Guy Fawkes being burned in effigy…
it has been too long since I stood
and looked into the flames of a fire,
but I still remember and I will never forget
all those bonfire nights that were filled
with sights, sounds, smells,
memories and dreams that will forever
fuel the inspiration and the fire
of my occasional child-like wants and desires.

My Poem ‘Manchester’

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

A minute of silence…
a handful of moments…
a precious gift to those
who tragically lost their lives…
sixty seconds of stillness
to remember the children of Manchester.

Only days ago
young and old gathered-together
to enjoy the music of their idol…
not even a week ago
men and women, girls and boys,
showed their love
and shared the love
that they felt for life
with one-another…
it was only the other day
that new angels were born in heaven.

Time does not stop,
but we cannot move on –
we are all still mourning the loss
of the beautiful and innocent souls
who left their homes
but who will sadly never return.

How can a father, a mother,
a sister, a brother,
a cousin, a niece, a nephew,
a relative, possibly understand
and recover from what has happened?
What can a city, a people, a country,
a way of life, a world do to make sure
that the selfish and murderous deeds
of a demonic coward that walks among us
does not win a battle in the epic struggle
that is constantly being fought
between good and evil?

The only way to keep somebody
and something alive
is to never forget them…
the only way that I know how to live
is to hope for the best
and to pray that the entire world
will one day all share
the same hopes for one-another.

After something indescribable
and shocking happens
being there for those in need
is what is the most important…
today and everyday,
everybody and everywhere,
all over the world,
will never forget
and they will always remember
the lights that went out
and were reborn in heaven,
who were born in a city
and in a country
who they will always be a part of,
and they will always remain
in the hearts and in the minds of
the people of Great Britain
and the great city of Manchester.

Dedicated to all the children and all the men and women who lost their lives on the 25th of May, 2017, and for all of the people who have been affected by the horror that took place in Manchester… you will never be forgotten.