time

My Poem “More than we might know”

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

Christmas Day is but once a year,
however the way that some people
make us feel every day
is enough to make us what to cry
tears of love and joy
because we know how lucky we are to
have them close and near.

Christmas time is when people tend
to think about others more than usual,
and Christmas time is also
when people often also
tend to reflect back upon
everything that life has tested them with,
especially as we all grow older
and we remember things in the past
that we may have accidentally taken for granted.

Everybody is this life needs somebody
to hear them, to think about them,
to give them the gift of their time –
even is it is only in the form of
a greetings card that tells someone
that you were thinking about them,
because no one who has done so much
good for other people ever deserves
to be forgotten or left behind.

Time is precious…
people are vulnerable…
there are people in this world
who have lost everything
because of a natural disaster,
because of homelessness,
because life has not been kind to them –
and this time of the year is when
a large population of the world
considers what means the most to them,
and the greatest gift
that we can all give one another –
as members of the collective
human family of this planet –
is respect, peace, and an opportunity
for everybody to find happiness
while doing something
that gives their life meaning.

We can all be better people sometimes…
we can all be better at communicating
our feelings – however, there are times
when talking is the hardest thing to do,
especially when you feel like nobody
could ever understand
what you are going through…
we can all be better listeners –
however, the ability to fully listen
and to hear what someone is trying
to tell you is harder than you think.

We can all be there for somebody
in particular when they need
the gift of someone to be there for them,
to make time for them,
to embody the spirit of the season,
and to get them through the sometimes
harsh Winter of the Northern Hemisphere
and the sometimes uncomfortable Summer
of the Southern Hemisphere –
because no one is immune to life,
because everybody is human,
and it is important that we all
remember, as often as possible,
who we are, what we are,
how short our time to shine is,
and that it takes almost no effort at all
to be present in the life
of somebody who may needs us
more than we might know.

My Poem “Beacons of the Season”

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

The season of Christmas
doesn’t truly begin for me
until I am decorating
and turning on the lights
of our family Christmas tree…
it has been a tradition
for as long as I can remember
for me to be the one
who retrieves the Christmas tree
from the attic and hangs
all the tinsel and the baubles
in an always unique and random fashion,
and I enjoy every moment
because I love the thought
of creating a brand new piece
of festive art that makes people smile
and draws the attention of everybody
and fills them with a sense of awe.

My family has had a couple
of Christmas trees throughout my life;
however, we never had a real pine tree –
so I have never had the experience
of having to periodically clean up
fallen pine needles from the floor,
but I have been fortunate
on many occasions
to have taken a walk through
a forest of still growing pine trees
so I am fully aware of the intoxicating
and calming fragrance of their aroma –
and every time I get to inhale
that distinctive smell of pine
I find that it always
opens a door within my mind
to tastes, to sounds, to feelings,
and to experiences that to me define
what is so special about
Christmas time.

I believe that there is nothing else
that symbolizes the hope
that everybody wishes to find
at this time of the year
than the multicolored lights
of a Christmas tree
shining in the darkness of twilight
and reminding everyone
who gaze upon them
that all is never lost –
because I believe that every source of light
is a beacon of optimism
that anyone can use
to find their way back to a place
that can call home at any hour
of the day or the night.

My Poem “Be Thrifty”

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

There are times of the year,
especially around Christmas time,
when you have got to think about
the likes, the needs, the wishes,
and the feelings of
more than one person simultaneously,
when you have to think about
what would be the perfect gift
to buy somebody in order to demonstrate
how much someone means to you,
when you have got to take advantage
of every given situation and offer
in order to be shrewd with what you
have to spend –
which is why so many people
flock out the door on days
like “Black Friday” and they go
from store to store in order
to find something that is being
advertised at being sold
at a fraction of the price
that they normally are.

The stores around Christmas time
are always full of people trying
to see, to pick up, and to purchase
what they have in mind,
what is on the list that they may have made,
or what they subliminally feel
compelled to buy in some way.

Christmas shopping is never easy –
in fact it gets harder to do every year;
however, I personally have always
enjoyed the process of putting
a great deal of thought
into who I am going to buy a gift for,
but sometimes I find new things
that I have not seen before
and when I do I have learned
the hard way that if you see something
that you have never seen before
which fits perfectly into
the mold in your mind
that pertains to someone that you know
you need to get it while you can
because their is always someone
right behind you who will
not hesitate to make the most
of the opportunity to walk away
with your original find and thought.

When Christmas shopping
you really do need to start early,
you need to take your time,
and you steadily need to
build up an instinct and a biography
about what a particular person
whom you know may have mentioned
in passing, subconsciously hoping
that someone would take note –
so my advice for anybody like me
who is currently in the process
of buying presents for family members,
less than a month before Christmas,
is to start now, to make a physical
or a mental lists before hand
that you can refer back to,
and of course to be quick,
to be thoughtful, to be calm,
and when possible to be thrifty.

My Poem “Giving Thanks”

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

Life is sometimes testing…
Life is sometimes depressing…
Life is sometimes a hard pill to swallow…
Life is precious, as is time –
and that is why we all need
to embrace every moment
with everybody we love,
because unfortunately
Life is not filled with
an ending number of tomorrows.

Life is never perfect –
no one ever always gets what they want…
Life is not meant to be anyone’s
personal version of perfection,
because if that were not the case
then we would be able to stop
people from leaving us
and we would always be able
to find what we have lost.

Life is a chain of changes…
Life is a series of streams…
Life is a wave of emotions
that rise high one day
and then crash down around you
when you least expect them.

Life is what it is…
Life is what it is designed to be…
Life is what it needs to be –
but that doesn’t mean that we
always have to like it;
however, sometimes it is the things
in this Life that we have absolutely
no control over –
which is most things, most of the time –
that are what make us who we are,
what we are, and why we are
the way that we are,
and it is the people who have seen us
at our worst but nevertheless still love us –
our loved ones who we share memories with –
who we should daily look at
and give thanks for
for simply being there when
we needed them the most
and sometimes people who we
only get to reconnect with
around Christmas time
or within the season of Thanksgiving.

My Poem “This time of the year”

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

This time of the year
should be filled with peace,
love, joy, and festivities;
however, invariably,
this time of the year
also sees the rise of feelings
and emotions that instantly
bring some people to tears.

At this time of the year
people tend to reach out
and they want to show
the people that they love
and care about just how much
they mean to them;
however, unfortunately,
not everybody who loves someone
is fortunate enough to be able
to have who they love safe and near.

At this time of the year
there are always loved ones
who are separated by a seemingly
insurmountable distance
or by a barrier between them
that keeps them apart.

At this time of the year
it is always hard to find
the words to describe
that which by their nature
transcends language, distance,
memory, and time –
because so much of what
makes life so special
for those who are fully able
to enjoy it and to cherish it
is encapsulated at certain
times of the year,
and most notably at Christmas time.

This time of the year
should be celebratory…
this time of the year
should be wonderful…
this time of the year
should be gift worthy;
however, the truth is
that this time of the year
is not everybody’s favourite
time of the year
because they may be
missing someone in particular,
because they may be
missing something that they have lost,
because they may be missing
the irreplaceable,
because they may be missing
the times when things
appeared to be easy, simple, and clear –
and that is why it is more important
than ever to be extra sensitive
to everybody you meet
at this time of the year,
because everybody is going through
uniquely personal things in their life,
and especially during the “holiday season”
that is this time of the year.

My Poem “A Stream of Starlight”

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

As I slept last night
I composed the poem of my life –
but when I woke up
and I opened my eyes
all the words and the imagery
that I dreamt about
disappeared and returned
to the world from whence
they came, locked away
deep inside where I can
never find again,
without form, without memory,
without words, without time…
each and every one of us
live every day of our lives
riding the waves and existing
in the wake of dreams
that are as wistful
and as ethereal as the rainbow
of colour that comprises
a stream of starlight.

My Poem “Speaking Freely

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

It’s so great to be able
to breathe again…
it’s so great to be able
to talk again…
it’s so great to be able
to walk around freely
and be inspired
by what I see again…
it’s so great to be able
to have the opportunity
and the precious gift of time
to weave a new rhyme
with the ink from my pen again –
because I have missed being able
to breathe unhindered,
I have missed being able
to express myself with a stream
of unbroken speech,
I have missed going on a walkabout
to nowhere in particular
and silently picking up ideas and observations
about everything along the way…
I have missed doing what I love to do –
no matter where I am
or the current mood I am in –
and the past time of the poet
and the blessing of the tranquil:
the dream of being able to influence
the world in more ways
than could ever be known.

My Poem “Time Well Spent”

Mark Hastings life, Poetry , , , , , ,

Life is short, we all know it…
everybody only has a finite number
of days and nights to make the most
of the time that they have
on this constantly spinning
and constantly changing planet.
Life is a blessing for most people –
however, for some people born
into a world of chaos
not of their choice,
life can sometimes feel like a curse.
Nobody can stop time,
nobody can prolong a moment,
nobody can live without
being the cause of something
nor without feeling the effects
of other people’s actions.
Throughout life everybody asks questions,
everybody learns lessons,
everybody loses things,
everybody loses people,
and everybody slowly but surely
discovers that life is not simple
and there is no universal
or perfect way in which
to live your life.
Each of us are born for a reason…
each of us are a complex embodiment
of thoughts, feelings, intentions,
dispositions, who have the potential
and the gifts to be able to
make a positive and an impactful
change in the indulating
waves of life – so that one day
each and every one of us
can sit down, look back,
and consider all that we have done
and all that we have been through
to be time well spent.

My Poem “A Matter of Time”

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

There is a time for everything…
there is a reason for everything…
there is an answer for everything…
there is a purpose for everything,
for everyone, for the good, for the bad,
for the black, for the white,
for the left, for the right,
and there is always a fine line
between darkness and light
where both heroes and saviors
in all their forms live and breath,
where they are able to see,
hear, feel, and understand
the reason why things are
the way that they are
and why certain things
need to be what they need to be.

No two people are the same –
and that is an amazing thing…
no two stories are the same –
however every story shares
certain commonalities with one another
that bind them spiritually to one another
through a combination of degrees of separation.

No two hearts beat at the same rhythm,
no two minds are wired in the same way,
no two dreams are coloured in the same tone –
because every person is a walking, talking,
constantly communicating spirit
and a vessel that is constantly
changing and becoming something else,
somebody else, as they progress along
the path of the life, as they emit
and emanate their own light,
and as they race against time
to give reason, purpose,
and an answer to the question
of why they were born
and how the world has been effected
by their presence in it.

Life is not random –
it only appears as if it is sometimes,
because sometimes some things seen
to appear as if from out of nowhere…
poetry is life, and life is poetry…
darkness cannot exist without light –
and that is why every time I look up
to the stars of the night-sky
I am reminded that everything and everyone
is the matter of a particular place,
purpose, perspective, universe,
and the time that they find themselves within.

My Poem “Personal Heaven”

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

Heaven is a moment of time…
Heaven is a person of love and light…
Heaven is a song of truth that
touches your heart as well as your mind…
Heaven is a source of passion and inspiration
that artists constantly mine…
Heaven is a cloud of thoughts,
impulses, memories, and observations
that combine to make an internal
ocean of infinite depths
to which anybody can dive.

Heaven can be found within the soul of a person…
Heaven can be found in the way
that a someone makes you feel…
Heaven is whatever someone considers
to be breathtaking, magical,
wonderful, and beautiful.

Heaven is often not just
what someone can feel
but what in truth cannot be touched
or put into words…
Heaven is the world within you
that you discover over the course of your life
which stays with you and which unfolds
before you when you fall off
the precipice of this life
and you start living the life
within the world of your own personal heaven.