sunset

My Poem “Sunset Storyteller”

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

Just before sunset
on a cool and calm evening near the seashore,
a group of friends gathered together
to go for a walk and follow a path
lead by a storyteller of infinite
creativity, imagination, and inspiration…
the promise of the evening adventure
was palpable by all who had been
inextricably drawn together by something
akin to the force of gravity;
however no one could have known
just how much of a magical experience
this away mission would be…
a gentle tram ride; a short walk down quiet streets;
the eventual arrival at the beach
all felt like moments filled
with rising levels of energy, excitement and joy –
because as the party of friends
proceeded to walk together
it felt as if new connections were being created
that would last for a lifetime.

The storyteller of languages
both spoken and unspoken
then guided the group of starry-eyed friends
along the beach and pointed out
landmarks of significance
which were a part of a tale that speaks
to the struggle that sometimes rages within people
after they have lost a loved one –
and as everyone followed along
and listened to every detail of the story being told
there was no one who was not spellbound
and entranced by the words and the imagery
that was forming within their minds.

The group then came upon the statue
of the same sea-ogre within the tale
they had been told about
and everyone who looked upon them
actually believing that they might come to life
and threaten the group;
however, because the group were protected
by the ensorcelling words of the storyteller –
an entrancing and spellbinding daughter of the sea –
no one came, nor could ever come, to any harm,
and once again the fellowship
were guided along the beach
until they came upon a giant metal shell
that as they got closer to it
seemed to encapsulate
the various voices of the group
into one harmonious chorus.

The ensemble of companions remained silent
as the sun began to set and the beautiful light of life
bound this group – our group – to one another
as we all looked out to sea towards the magnificent
sphere of fire seemingly dancing
upon the surface of the water;
before long the light of the sun faded,
but the magic of the shared experience remained –
as did the meaningful, profound, lasting,
and beautiful words of the tale
that had been shared continued to echo –
and I was so overcome and overwhelmed
with feelings of gratitude, as well as with
memories of my father who I miss every day,
that I shed a silent tear and thanked
our “sunset storyteller”
for the blessed and everlasting gift
that she had given to me.

The Pathfinder: The Last Sunset

Mark Hastings books, Podcast, Poetry , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
In this episode, Mark recites his poem “The Last Sunset” from his 2024 poetry collection ‘The Pathfinder’ – which is now available to buy in paperback and as an ebook from Amazon: https://amzn.eu/d/aXnSwxa and you can check out more of Mark’s poems at http://MarkThePoet.Me

My Poem “The Last Sunset”

Mark Hastings Poetry , , , , , , , , , , , , , 
It's OK if I should pass on
to the world to come,
because I can honestly say,
with my hand on my heart,
that I have played my part
and I have definitely left my mark...
it's OK if I had to go
because I would again get to see
all the people whom I have known -
including the man who was always
and who will forever be my hero...
it would be OK I were to have written
my last poem and to have seen my last sunrise,
because I know that I did my best
every day while I was alive...
it would be sad to have to go
and to not be able to say a proper goodbye
to all those people who I know
would miss me when I am gone
and who I know would think of me and cry...
it is not something I am planning to do,
it is not something I am looking forward to,
but if this poem were the last thing
that anybody heard of me
then I hope I will be remembered
as being someone who gave back
and who believed that every day was a gift...
it is my lasting hope and my wish
that someday someone will read my words,
someone will see my face,
someone will think about something
or about someone who they love
and wonder what and whom it was who inspired me,
and the future reader of my poetry and I
will begin to communicate with one another
across space and across time
because we will have created
a bridge back to each other
that we can use to learn more
about ourselves and about how we can
all help others through the darkness
that follows the last light of our last sunset.

My Poem “Golden”

Mark Hastings Poetry , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 
The golden light of the sun setting
shone through my bedroom window,
as I sat thinking about time,
my life, the world, the universe
and the fact that I am truly blessed
by what I have and what I treasure
more than I could every say...
the blinding light of the sun
that fills my eyes with glorious sunshine
inspires my thoughts and enlightens my soul
and makes me think about what
and who makes me happy every day...
the stream of sunlight that I am graced with
showers me with a purpose
and makes me smile, sigh,
and feel like a child again...
the light of the world that I see is exquisite
and the mysteries of the Multiverse
that I think about as I feel myself
being carried away as if by the tide
of some interstellar ocean of energy
take away any feelings of regret and pain...
the sun will always be there for you,
as the sun had always been there for me,
like the personification of a shepherd
that guides their flock to where they need to be,
at the same time communicating
with light what can never be told...
the glow of daylight,
as it transitions into twilight,
is bright, clear, breathtaking
and shows just how much of life
and everything that we are all bound to
is made up of a spirit that is truly golden.

A Poem A Day #162: At Sunset

Mark Hastings Podcast, Poetry , , , , , , , , , ,
“At Sunset” by Mark Hastings was taken from Mark’s poetry collection ‘The Sound of Mark’ which was published in 2014 by Zeloo Media. Check out more of Mark’s poetry online @ http://MarkThePoet.Me – all poems © Mark Hastings

My Poem “The Evening Sky”

Mark Hastings Poetry , , , , , , , , , , , , , 
Against the blue and gold hue of the sky
at sunset I watch the silhouette of
a flock of birds fly across the sky,
as the daylight drains away
and darkness rises...
the moments of twilight are so beautiful
that I cannot look away,
because I am always entranced
by the transition between the world
of day and the world of night...
there has always been something
magical to me about sitting
in the dark, while watching and waiting
for the clouds to clear and the divine
light of the stars to pierce through
the vastness like some kind of celestial knives...
I love living where I live -
in the countryside and away
from the city sights and sounds -
because I am able to be inspired
by nature, up close and personal,
and every day and every night
look up to the sky and feel as if
I can see the face of heaven
looking back at me, perfect and bright,
at the same time gifting me
a vision and some sort of second sight
that makes me feel like
a shooting star arching from left to right
unimpeded through the evening sky.

My Poem “Over too soon”

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





One of the most beautiful
and truly breathtaking sights
that we mere mortals get to see
is the last glimpse of daylight
when the sun slowly disappears
below the horizon at sunset,
when day becomes night;
and to me, for some reason, a sunset
sometimes has even more of an impact
upon me than witnessing a sunrise -
because, for so many reasons,
seeing the sun set reminds us all
of how precious time is, how short life is,
and how one day we will all see a last day
when we will all close our eyes for the last time
and day will forever become an eternal night.

Sunsets happen too early for some people -
however, everybody has at least once in their life
enjoyed the experience of sitting,
or standing, like a statue or a monument,
as the last rays of the sole star
at the centre of our solar system
touches us and allows our shadow self
to be caste upon the ground behind us...
there is no more astounding moment
like sitting upon the infinite grains of sand
of a beach as the bright sunlight retreats
to its source, as the temperature drops,
as the air grows cold, and as the song
of the sun is replaced by the crashing chorus
of the waves of the sea, as the ocean tide
recreates the shoreline, as above the clouds
the stars of the cosmos sprinkle down
a healthy dose of stardust to inspire
the dreams of countless.

Sunrises remind us all of new life...
sunsets remind us all of how far
we have all come and what we have done -
and, in my experience, there is no more perfect time
to sit and reflect upon life and our place in nature
than on a summer's evening in June...
sunrises remind us all of how
amazing it is to be alive...
sunsets remind us all that sometimes
when something is over it is over
though an echo of what was 
might in some form remain -
however, I am sure that we can all agree
that the journey of some things
and the journey of some people
are sometimes over way too soon.






					

		
		
	




			
				


	

		

					
Mark The Poet – The Podcast: Episode #41

								

								 Mark Hastings
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My Poem “Between Sunrise and Sunset’

								

								 Mark Hastings
															Poetry					
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On Tuesday, September 11th, 2001,

the eyes of almost everyone on Earth

became fixed upon their television screens

which were showing the shocking

and horrific scenes that were being

played out in the land of the free,

the home of the brave –

and the population of the world,

especially the people of the

United States of America,

have not forgotten, nor will ever forget,

where they were and what they were

doing on the day that the two towers

of the World Trade Center,

in New York City, were attacked from above

and tragically fell to the ground

taking the lives of everybody within them.


Tuesday, September 11th, 2001,

is a day, a month, a year,

seared into my memory

and I will never forget the tears

that fell from my eyes

when I watched the last

moments of life of people whose

only crime was to wake up that morning

and wish to better their lives

and the lives of other people –

and from that day on,

and forevermore, we – the world –

have not been the same,

and every day we mourn.


Whenever we witness something devastating –

like the terrorists attacks of

Tuesday, September 11th, 2001 –

everybody always wishes

that they could turn back the clock

and change history in some way

so that all the people who were lost

could be brought back to life –

but, unfortunately, the terrorist

attacks that happened on

the East Coast of the United States

of America, on September 11th, 2001,

will forever leave a scar

of memory on all of us

who are living witnesses

to a world at war with itself;

however, I still remain hopeful

that one day the entire world

will wake up to the fact

that the true meaning of life is to love

and everybody deserves the gift

to be able to live in a world without fear

in which everybody is able

to do the best that they can,

to live freely, to live happily,

and to make the most

every moment of every day

between the first light of sunrise

and the last light of sunset.


Never forget.



					

		
		
	




			
				


	

		

					
My Poem “The Presence of Purpose”

								

								 Mark Hastings
															Poetry					
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The sight of the sun

is sometimes deceptive –

first thing in the morning

when you see the sun shining

through your bedroom window

you might expect to walk out

your door into a world of warmth –

however, especially during

the period when winter

transitions into spring,

most of the time,

even though there is a blue sky

above you to marvel at,

the air is cold and you can see

your own breath rising

in front of your face,

and you have to brace yourself

for what you might encounter…

There is nothing greater

than a winter morning

that features the brightest sunlight,

the most breathtaking and beautiful of sunrises,

and when time changes

and the clocks go back

because that is when you see

the most spectacular sunsets –

tokens of memory

to an evening of dreams

that you will never forget…

Every new day of every new season

is never the same as the one

that came before…

Every sight, every sound, every voice

of every moment is unique –

even though it may appear to be

something that is being repeated…

Every moment contains echoes of the past

and foreshadowing of the future –

however, it is mostly only in times

of reflection when we see

crossroads of existence intersect…

Mornings like this – mornings that instantly

and constantly inspire dreamers

and artists – are the best…

Being grateful for all the times

of unbridled peace and joy

that you feel and experience is important,

because life is about living, breathing,

being present in a moment,

and about feeling the positive pull

of having a presence of purpose.