special

My Poem ‘Ruby Slippers’

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

Sometimes the things that happen to us in life
can make us forget that there is magic all around us;
sometimes all we need to do
is meet that special person to remind us;
sometimes if we reach out and grasp a moment of importance
it can be like catching a star in your hand;
sometimes the world comes into focus,
we take in a breath, we close our eyes,
and when we breath out again,
and when we open our eyes again,
our perfect match can be waiting for us
right in front of us,
and all we had to do to be given this gift of connection
was to keep our faith in finding that special someone,
and giving ourselves over to fate and destiny’s plan.

We all sometimes need reminding
that as we are looking for someone,
someone is also looking in our direction;
but, as with everything that has the potential to be life-changing,
the right time and the right place is everything –
however, miracles of life and beauty happen every day,
and of the thousands that happen
two epic spectacles come to mind:
the setting in the evening,
and the rise in the morning of the sun.

If you meet someone, if something happens;
you have met that someone,
and that which has happened happened for a reason –
we are all guided, taught, inspired,
given seemingly accidental opportunities
to be introduced to a new and wonderful world,
and we are all sometimes just taken away
to see, live, and experience a life
where anything is possible,
where we can meet anyone who before
may only have been just a dream,
and whom we would only have spoken about
to someone else in whispers;
if life gives you the means to see behind
the magic curtain of the world,
so that you can see that there is even more beautiful
and fantastic things to see, worlds to be found,
and incredible people to meet,
take every chance, jump into the unknown,
and if doing that means that you have to do
what Dorothy Gale did in The Wizard of Oz, so be it –
so put on a smile, and make the most
of what you have been given and what you have found –
especially if that is a special person that you meet,
or perhaps a pair of ruby slippers.

My Poem ‘The Traveler’

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

Rising with the sun
to feel the cold morning air;
opening wide
to see the clear brand new day;
traveling like a bullet
on a train without a care,
I want to go everywhere and see everything,
and nothing can stop me or get in my way.

I have always been a traveler;
I have always been on the move;
I have always loved traveling far –
overground, underground,
or almost touching the atmosphere;
I have always rode the roller coaster of youth.

The unknown has never scared me;
outer-space has always been a draw;
where I have never been before
is where I have written my most meaningful poetry;
seeing as much of our beautiful Earth as I can
and being inspired by life is my call.

Every day is a new day;
every life is beautiful in its own way;
every time I embark on a new adventure,
I want all my senses to rocket away;
every moment that eclipses everything from before
are the moments that matter the most,
and it is within those moments that you always want to stay.

Traveling is in my blood;
pilgrimages are a daily ritual that I always entertain and enjoy;
seeing something new, and wanting to go that one step beyond,
is something I would do for a living, if I could;
methods of transportation take me to places
where my dreams can become reality.
Like a man transitioning from a boy,
and an airplane flight growing out of a life-long fascination
with flying toys.

Giving someone, especially a child,
a compass, a path, a hunger, an enthusiasm,
to get out there and to see what is out there,
is something that they will never forget,
and will always compel and never deter.
There is always a reason to be a risk taker, an adventurer –
because everyone can be a traveler.

My Poem ‘Heaven is a library’

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

Surrounded by an infinite,
amazing, incredible, epic,
beautiful, endless,
collection of books –
the most breathtaking, awesome,
and extraordinary, hive of information,
stories, words, facts, writers, and authors,
from all around the world,
from every century of mankind –
I am sitting here listening to beautiful piano music
being played by an old man who, to me,
simply wants to play, feel, remember,
share and bring joy.

Every second that I spend walking around,
looking, sitting, listening,
staring out of giant glass windows,
lost in my own world,
connecting and passing through someone else’s story –
seeing them, meeting them, listening to them,
being inspired by them –
I feel as if I am in heaven,
and I could so easily and happily never leave this place;
because this place, the library, to me,
is a perfect place, a special place,
a place that is a hub, that not only connects
the people who visit it,
but also every person who has ever lived.

I feel myself drifting away,
being carried by the music;
I feel intoxicated by the smell, the taste, the touch,
the feeling all around, in everyone,
in every mind, in every book;
I feel emotional, because as I watch the outside world,
who are not with me here in this incredible,
magic, idyllic, library,
who are walking around under a blue sky,
through a forest of tall buildings,
and I want to tell them to come inside
and experience what I am feeling,
think what I am thinking,
listen to what I am listening,
know me and know what brought me to this library
and keeps bringing me back,
and how important a place, an Eden on Earth,
like this is to me,
and to all of us who are living this life
that we are living.

I can feel my heart pounding in my chest;
I can feel my imagination burning and shining like a star;
I feel overwhelmed; I feel at my best;
I feel like I can touch
and hear my own my own inner-muse and poetic spark.
The library is not as old as some,
but to me this library is as rejuvenating,
energizing, and as radiating as a sun.

I am here; and where I am, to me,
is holy-ground, and a source to find and know
the secret of all humanity –
where it has been, where it is going –
and a place to discover and see it in all its glory,
to walk around, work in, study in,
read in, write in, congregate in,
listen to people and music in,
to talk in, and make the most of every wonderful second of;
because this place is a miracle of beauty,
and proof-positive to me, as I have always believed,
that heaven is a library.

My Poem ‘The Phoenix’

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

It was inevitable that it would happen,
it always happens;
it was always going to end and begin again this way;
it was inevitable that I would be burned alive
and come back to life,
because that is the pattern;
it will always be me dying to save myself,
and then rising again from the flames
with the same face, the same name,
the same heart, the same soul,
until it really is my Earth-bound last and final day.

Every time I come back from the dead
I lose nearly everything that I had,
but I do retain every detail of my past lives’ memories;
every time my world crumbles and turns to ash,
I return to the place I know,
the people I love, and the thing that is as a part of me
as I am of it- and that is my notebook and my poetry.

You always think that things will go on forever, until they end;
you always think that people will stay with you, until they leave;
you always think that you will always be someone’s hope,
inspiration, life, love, and best friend;
you always think that you know and have seen everything,
until you learn and you see something that you cannot believe.

My world imploded, and then exploded;
my identity was stripped from me and thrown away;
my life had to crash and then be rebooted;
my past, my present, my future, my horizons,
were all sent into flux, and blown away on the wind,
to be replaced by a blank page, an unknown,
and a feeling of loss and uncertainty.

Where once there was something rich, deep, bright, and hopeful,
there is now nothing to be found;
where once there was fate, destiny, reason,
the answer to everything in the entire universe,
there is now a hole in the shape of something wonderful,
special, and profound.

Night has become day,
day has become night;
everything felt simple,
even when it was vastly complicated in every way-
as long as I kept myself, in part, hidden in the dark
I would always end up turning my face away from the light.

Things ended because I was stupid;
I was ripped apart and burned,
because what happened was too far gone for anyone to fix;
I was everything that I have always hated,
but now I have died, I have been reincarnated,
I have been reconstituted, I have been tested,
I have been regenerated, I have risen again from my own flames,
and I am starting again and fighting my instincts
of continually being the human embodiment
of the mythological bird known as “The Phoenix”.