thoughts

My Poem ‘Let me go, and I will run’

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

It’s fun to let your thoughts drift away from you;
it’s good to let your thoughts run away from you;
it’s exciting to experience your thoughts changing;
it’s incredible to have an idea
that spontaneously pops into your head,
as if from out of nowhere,
which just takes over every other thought of your mind
and function of your body –
and which also becomes all that you can talk about,
and to you it is all that is worth saying.

I have a brand new idea for something,
usually for the title of a new poem,
every hour of every day;
however, of the sixty ideas that I have,
by the end of every hour, they have become one idea,
and by the end of every day –
usually just before I fall asleep –
the first words of a perfect thought,
and the first verse of poetry of my own imagining,
has been ingrained in my consciousness,
and is just waiting to be written,
in my own unique way.

Ideas are important;
every idea that I have ever had
has set my imagination on fire;
ideas are building blocks, as well as foundations;
of all the ideas that I have had,
deciding one day to write down
what was on my mind at the time
was the one muse that is still a constant;
ideas are the offspring of desire;
every idea I have had has enlightened me in some way;
and following the path of an idea,
and taking the journey of the eternal dreamer,
is my way of reaching a higher state of consciousness,
and in a way it is my own form of meditation.

Ever since I was a kid,
I have been used to exerting my body
and using every physical muscle at my disposal
to achieve feats of strength and speed;
as a child, as an adult,
I was off like a shot,
running my heart out to somewhere I needed to get to,
and perhaps to someone in need;
ever since writing has become my passion, my devotion,
my love, and one of the defining parts of my heart, my soul,
my identity, there has not been a day that has gone by
when the question ‘what am I going to write about next?’
has not been uttered by me –
and even now I am asking that question, and answering it also,
and to me there is no more perfect
and beautiful form of writing than poetry.

When I can be myself;
when I am not constrained by glass, brick, wood, metal,
windows, doors, walls, and locks;
when I can step out into the daylight
and feel the beating warmth of the sun;
when I am unaware of time, and I can move with stealth;
when I am thinking wholly, completely,
and tantalizingly, out of the box;
when I can cut the strings and the ties
of anything that might be holding me, my mind,
my imagination, back in any way –
I promise you, world: let me go, and I will run.

My Poem ‘My Favourite Poet’

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

My favourite poet is a wizard of words;
my favourite poet is a magician of music;
my favourite poet is a force of feelings
that spark like a duel of swords;
my favourite poet is a dream-maker, a storyteller,
someone who has taken a journey,
and who is on a journey that is unique, personal, and epic.

My favourite poet has looked up at the stars
and knows how to harness the infinite energy
that they see, hear, and feel;
my favourite poet has known and has been in
every state of love, elation, and fusion,
and has had to walk a thin line, or two, in their time;
my favourite poet has woken up more than once in their life
and wondered whether the world they are living in
and the life they are living is really real;
my favourite poet writes their poetry all the time,
but not always on paper, and not always in words,
and sometimes their poetry comes to life and to light
in their actions and in their thoughts,
that are mostly an expression of their soul,
and wonderfully kind.

My favourite poet has inspired,
and has helped more people than they will ever know;
my favourite poet is a voracious observer,
who feels deeply, and who believes in things passionately;
my favourite poet writes at all times, and at any moment,
and wants to capture a moment in time timelessly
in any way that they can, wherever they go;
my favourite poet listens to every kind of music,
to every type of singer, who embraces every form of art,
and who reads anything and everything,
and who shares a connection with every artist –
some who may not even be aware that they are creating art or poetry.

My favourite poet uses the means and the instruments
of creativity of their time to reach high, and wide,
and to go far, and low;
my favourite poet is also your favourite poet;
my favourite poet is fearless, adaptive, articulate,
loving, caring, who feels just at home
with the people he adores and loves,
as they do walking the busy streets of a city,
walking over the hills and fields of the countryside,
or trudging ankle-deep in the freezing snow;
my favourite poet will continue to change the world
just by being a presence, a spirit, a voice,
an artist, an inspiration, in it,
and that is why they are and they always will be
my favourite poet.

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