spirit

My Poem ‘Christmases’

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

Christmas is about family…
Christmas is about sharing…
Christmas is about being happy…
Christmas is about giving.

It’s Christmas time,
it’s Christmas day…
it is now when we celebrate
with presents, prayers,
mistletoe and wine…
it is now when people
the world-over are the most thankful
for what and whom is in their life
every hour of every day.

Christmas is about love…
Christmas is about thinking about others…
Christmas is about spreading a message of hope…
Christmas is about bringing everybody together…
Christmas is my favourite time of the year…
Christmas is a season, and its meaning
all culminates on one day, the 25th of December.

Christmas is about sharing how beautiful
life could be for everybody
if we opened our hearts more…
Christmas is about peace,
and if there is one gift
that Christmas should give us all
it is the understanding
that we as a species, as a world, as a planet,
are meant to live and breath
all the world’s differences and celebrate them –
because we were not born
to fight one-another, or wage war.

Christmas is about traditions…
Christmas is about symbols…
Christmas is about wishes…
Christmas is about angels…
it is so important to always keep alive
the Christmas spirit –
from childhood to adulthood…
it is so important that children
make lists and send them to Santa Claus…
it is so important to show
how much someone means to you –
even the smallest of gestures
of kindness is always enough…
it is so important to let
the ice of hostility thaw –
because feeling blessed to be alive and well,
and being thankful for the precious time
that we have, and whom we spend our time with,
highlights beautifully what
the true meaning of Christmas is.

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My Poem ‘My Jam’

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

From All Hail The Silence, to BT…
from The 1975, to David Bowie…
from Savage Garden, to Johnny Cash…
from Ed Sheeran, to Set It Off…
from John Lennon, to Walk The Moon…
from Young Guns, to Muse…
from CHVRCHES, to Christian Burns…
from Bruce Springsteen, to Green Day…
from Lady Antebellum, to James Bay…
from Carrie Underwood, to a-ha…
from Armin van Buuren, to Bruno Mars…
from Bon Jovi, to Bryan Adams…
from Coldplay, to Michael Jackson…
from Tears For Fears, to Sixpence None the Richer…
from Daft Punk, to New Order…
from Prince, to Deadmau5…
from Tracy Chapman, to Crowded House…
and many many more –
that is but a selection of the artists
and the bands who make music
and who have created songs
that I adore and I listen to over and over.

Music is a great source of inspiration for a writer,
and the music and the songs that inspire me the most
are those with a message to them that touches my heart
and sets off a chain-reaction
and a rejuvenation of spirit within me like no other –
from Electronic Dance Music, to Rock…
from Classical, to Pop…
from fast, to slow…
from a ballad, to something wholly-instrumental –
I find great peace and beauty,
I find great love and serenity,
in hearing the voice and the music
of the heart of an artist, or artists,
that bridges the gap from my ears, to my mind…
from my imagination, to my soul.

My love for all types of music
stems from when I was a boy –
even as a child, I knew there was something special
to what I heard all-around me,
which others might just have
thought was background noise…
my heart has a rhythm to it
and it creates its own music with every beat –
and even now, when I hear a great song
that I haven’t heard before,
it doesn’t take me long
before my heart skips-a-beat
and I am tapping away with my fingers
and moving in-time, to the music I hear,
with every movement of my feet…
when I hear my favourite songs,
I secretly have this insatiable urge
to “bust-a-move” and dance –
there is a deep-seated reason
why music means so much to me,
there is a truth to why
I could never live without music
that stares right back at me every day
in the mirror of my mind…
whenever I listen to my playlist on my iPod,
I always get millions of sparks of inspiration,
and for a long-time after I finish listening
to my favourite songs I still hear
the echoes of the music
that make up “My Jam”.

My Poem ‘Standing Rock’

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

All ground is sacred ground…
the Earth beneath our feet
has its own identity…
the world that moves silently through space,
and its spirit, is so powerful and nurturing
that it creates its own gravity
and a near-perfect environment
for all life to thrive and live…
all that breath in the air of the planet
to which we are all bound and indebted
are expected to not only take away,
but to give back in return…
our home, this world, is the home
of countless species and forms of life –
each and every-one given from birth
the rite to exist and fulfill their destiny…
some people have learned to understand
and interpret the timeless language of nature,
and they also understand that not only
does the Earth have a spirit –
so too do the trees, the plants,
the animals, the mountains, the rivers,
the seas, the fish, the microscopic organisms
smaller than the human eye can see…
every thing with a consciousness,
with thoughts, with feelings, with emotions,
with instincts, with a reason to be,
has a reason to be alive…
even a single drop of rain adds to our planets worth…
we are all luckier than we know
to live on the planet that do…
long after all the stories of our lives
have faded to dust, the Earth will still have
a billion and more mornings and nights,
Winters and Summers, frosts and thaws,
and the world will live on –
and though humanity will have gone,
we will still be ingrained in the DNA
of our home-world, and our monuments will remain,
just as the beautiful natural-monuments of Earth
will continue to boggle the mind
of everyone who is lucky enough to see
our planet’s deepest reaches
and its breath-taking, towering,
and still-standing mountains,
and epic formations –
our most special and sacred
wonders of Earth and rock.

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My Poem ‘Finding Serenity’

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

I once followed the light of a Firefly,
and when I watched it
until its last second of life
something happened, something amazing…
the light of the Firefly went out,
but then the Firefly was reborn into Serenity –
and now it will live forever in my heart,
and in the hearts of many…
all those who were caught in the Firefly’s wake…
as it flew, as it soared,
as it became something close to people’s heart.

Firefly meant something special,
and it always will…
Firefly was like nothing else
that anybody had ever seen –
because it was unique,
because it was not afraid to be itself,
because it gave us all a vision of something magical:
a world that was shiny and beautiful
filled with different people, from all walks of life,
all working together, who all believe
in the power of the impossible,
and that believing in one-another
is what makes them mighty.

The Firefly continues to fly,
and now it is a star in the night-sky…
Serenity is always there to be found
right where you left it –
like a book on a shelf;
it is so sad to see someone’s spirit
leave this world –
I know that life is precious
and that we are only here for a short time,
but it is the thought that you
will never see the like of certain people again
that hurts the most;
everybody looks for something,
for someone, for some reason,
and what we all seek is out there
waiting for us to find it…
sometimes it can be something
as subtle as a song, an experience, a feeling,
or a verse of poetry…
if you keep going, if you keep looking,
and if you don’t stop believing
that you are going to find
what you are looking for –
then, maybe, you can be like me,
and you can be lucky enough
to have found Serenity.

In memory of Ron Glass

My Poem ‘Leap of Faith’

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

My faith is strong;
in my opinion, in this day and age,
keeping your faith
is one of the most important things
that you can do;
depending on what you are going through
at any given time,
some things feel so right
and some things just feel so wrong.
To me, holding on to any kind of faith
is the only way that anyone
can experience the miraculous joy
that comes with a day that feels
truly beautiful and new.

Doubts can set anybody back;
worrying can be paralyzing;
how to find a way out of a maze
that you find yourself in
can be hard to grasp;
waiting for a sign
telling you what you should do next
can be agonizing –
but there is salvation to be found;
there is a power that can help you
ride the wild ocean waves of life
that you see coming towards you…
there is a music and a voice
that can guide you,
and you do not even need to hear a sound…
there is a light of both day and of night
that illuminates what you need to do
brighter than the sun, or the shine of a full-moon.

We all need somebody…
we all need something…
we all need a force stronger than gravity
in our life that keeps us from falling…
we all need that which helps
a single small acorn grow into
the most amazing, blossoming, and mighty of Oak trees.

There is a way
for each and every one of us to feel safe…
there is a way
for us all to get through
seemingly unimaginable long days…
there is a way
for each of us to find a blessing –
by simply thinking about the best things in their life,
or by kneeling down to pray…
there is a way through everything –
but first you must promise yourself
to not give up on hope,
and seek answers to your questions,
and do what comes naturally
to those who are truly willing
to believe in something…
those who are not afraid
to take a running-jump
into a leap of faith.

My Poem ‘The Preacher up on the Mountain’

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

The father, the son, the messenger,
the preacher of the word of God…
the man of faith, the man of belief,
the man of love, the man of heart,
the man of song…
when they speak, when they sing,
all who hear their voice
feel their words deep within their soul
and their presence feels like
the lord-himself is speaking
to you through him…
when you are in their church,
when you are one of their congregation,
you can feel the strength of their spirit,
and you feel instantly drawn to them…
the preacher brings the words of the bible to life…
the holy man knows the true meaning of keeping faith
that God loves his children
and that he believes in them more
than they could ever know…
the man who built his own church
and who created a holy place for his family
and for all to worship in
will always be special in the eyes of God,
of Jesus Christ, and in the eyes of those
who they have shepherded throughout their life…
god bless the preacher up on the mountain.

My Poem ‘A Ghost’s Story’

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

Some people think
that ghosts are all in the mind…
some people think
that we see what we want to see…
some people think
that the stories of hauntings
are more often than not
just a bunch of lies…
some people are just unable
to entertain the possibility
of somebody continuing to live
though they may not technically be “alive”…
ghosts, spirits, people remain on Earth
and they talk to us all every day –
but sometimes not in ways
that are easy to believe.

When a human spirit leaves its corporeal life
and is set free of its physical body,
a natural change and transition occurs…
when a human heart stops beating,
another source of spirit grows stronger
and we are given a choice:
to follow our instincts
and to journey to a place
beyond human understanding and comprehension,
or stay on Earth and be shown,
and get to interact with,
the living of humanity
within an existence of limitless-time.

Everybody has a reason to be who and what they are –
some people when they die become songs,
and some people when they die becomes stars;
some people’s spirit live on
within the pages of a book
long after their audible-voice can no longer be heard,
forever inhabiting a story’s every letter of every word;
every form of life, when it fully becomes its own spirit,
lives on – and the more that we explore other planets
in the galaxy I am sure that we will encounter
alien ghosts, also –
and I personally would not be surprised
if one day someone from Earth
finds themselves haunted by the figure
of a dead Martian while living
upon the surface of Mars.

Everybody has a story that they are at the centre of…
some peoples’ stories do not end
when their physical body gives-out…
everybody had a moment during their life,
and after death, when they have to shake-off
who they used to be and become someone else completely new –
the draw of an enticing bright light
is hard not to race towards like a moth…
some peoples’ idea of life after death
to some might be thought of as “heaven”,
and to others that same idea
might be their exact version of “hell”…
life when you are alive is different
to the life that awaits us all
on the other side of the threshold of our twilight
that we have to cross when our time
as a living and breathing human comes to an end…
it is said that when we die
we write the most beautiful poetry…
it is important to say goodbye
to loved-ones and friends…
every person, every-thing lives on…
everybody and everything changes –
but nothing ever truly ends,
and when each of us pass on
our story changes also,
from one like that of a caterpillar
to one like that of a butterfly –
and that is the essence of a ghost’s story.

My Poem ‘The life of an idea’

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

Sometimes it comes like water-drops;
sometimes it comes like a flood;
sometimes the idea is born
from that instant when the words
just don’t want to stop;
sometimes creativity takes time
to grow from the seed
that you planted or sowed
before it can be something
that you, or anyone else,
may someday choose to look with love,
and go with it on its journey
wherever it goes.

A writer waits… a writer looks…
a writer listens… a writer finds things
in the outside world
and then takes them inside their mind
and then generates and regenerates
all that they have seen, heard, and know,
and creates something brand new –
they write a story, they make connections…
they assume and they presume,
and then they fill their time
with the fruits of their imagination,
and they give their creations
a piece of their spirit,
and in doing so they give their idea a life.

Some ideas only have the life of an instant of time;
some ideas, no matter how hard you try,
you can’t let go of;
some ideas come into being from a single sign;
some ideas look up at us from below,
and some ideas look down at us
and are just waiting for us to notice them –
like the stars that can only be seen
when the sky is black above.

Ideas are like children –
sometimes you have to keep them
behind a boundary so that they don’t run away;
ideas can sometimes be like rockets –
they take off, but they do not know where they are going;
an idea can be like a loyal dog –
if you feed them, if you give them attention
and if you show them love,
every day they will always come to you when you call them,
and when you tell them to stay they will stay;
to an artist there is no such thing as too many ideas,
because to an artist no matter how many ideas there are
there is never enough.

There are Ideas that evoke and differing and varied reactions
depending on the person who is exposed to them;
for some people, their idea’s come more during the day
than they do at night;
there are ideas that come, and then they go in a flash,
and they are never seen or thought of again;
some people always have ideas every how of the day,
and there are some people who struggle
to come up with anything creative –
however, in my opinion, though at times
for an inspiration-starving artist
it might be hard to pull anything out of the fire,
no artist should ever feel discouraged…
because just as a new days
brings a brand new sunrise,
so does a new moment bring new ideas –
though each and every idea
may have a different time of life.

My Poem ‘Almost too much’

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

Life can be tough…
life can be mean…
life can be rough…
if you have seen what I have seen,
and if you have felt what I have felt,
then you will know exactly what I mean.

Is life really a game of luck?
Is life really a lottery
that we don’t know we are a part of?
Has life got to be hard
for us to understand how precious it is?
Have we got to struggle and fight
to know what this world we all live in truly is?

Sons and daughters
should not have to watch
their mothers and fathers suffer;
I know that life isn’t always fair,
but I just wish that all the love within me
and within all the people of the world
who truly care about others
could be to every cancer the most powerful cure.

I am hopeful…
I am romantic…
I do believe that the world, the universe,
is amazing, miraculous, and wonderful…
I believe that no matter what happens in life
the best thing is to not panic –
but that doesn’t mean that I do not fear
losing those who I love and who make me who I am,
and that does not mean that I do not
sometimes get scared
and my thoughts and my emotions
regress to those that I remember having
before I grew into the man that I am.

Life is a journey of mind, body, and spirit;
life is a storm of surprises, sometimes;
life goes by faster than you might think,
and there ultimately comes a day
when you look back in time
and you wish that you could relive
the moments that made you the happiest in your life
that you can’t help but miss;
life can be both a blessing and a test of soul –
it can sometimes take all your will
to keep you from losing your mind;
the days that you spend in life in love
and being loved are never enough;
life can almost be too much…
however, no matter what,
never lose what matters the most: your love.

My Poem ‘El Transformador’

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

You haven’t lived,
in my opinion,
until you have seen and heard
the movie ‘Transformers’
dubbed in Spanish;
you haven’t lived
until you have traveled
4000 miles to be with
the one whom every day
makes real all that
you have ever wished;
you haven’t seen
true natural-beauty
until you have seen
the Great Smoky Mountains up-close
and you have breathed in
the clear fresh-air
that is in abundance;
you haven’t seen an angel,
in my opinion,
until you have laid your eyes upon
the woman who I adore and love –
because on a scale of perfection
there is no one who looks
and shines with as much
breathtaking and heavenly magnificence.

You haven’t lived
until you have walked the tracks of a rail-road,
under a perfectly-unbroken blue-sky,
that runs alongside the Nickajack Lake in Tennessee;
you haven’t known true-love, in my opinion,
until you have been loved in every way imaginable,
as much as I love Melissa,
as much as Melissa loves me;
you haven’t heard the heart-beat of life
until you have reached out and felt
the source of divine joy and happiness
that resides in the south of North America;
you haven’t heard the voice of your own soul
until you have been kissed and told
“I love you” by the light of your life
who is to you your life-defining shining-star.

You haven’t been given
a sign of the existence of God, in my opinion,
until you have taken a journey with your best-friend
and you have watched the book of life open up
and make sense of every-thing
that you have ever pondered,
and you find out that your best-friend
and your soulmate was put on Earth
to be with you forever;
you haven’t arrived at the true start
of your destined-path
until someone comes into your life
and without even having to try
reveals the true you
that you may at times keep under-cover.

You haven’t known a place of true-salvation,
in my opinion, until you have been
where I have been, and until you have heard
the song of your heart and spirit being performed;
you haven’t felt like
you have been to the moon and back
until you are alone with your one-and-only,
and every second feels like a life-time,
and every moment that you touch and are touched
you feel blessed and transformed.

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