transcendental

My poem ‘The Drummer’

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

It was all he heard…
it was all he felt…
it was all he wanted to do…
every morning, every night,
the drummer felt a longing,
and the beat was the only cure…
over and over again,
the drummer played the rhythm
of his favourite beat in his mind,
with the fingers of his hands,
and every time that he tapped his feet…
it was as if it was his own heart beating…
it was as if it was his own pulse racing…
it was the most epic sound
he had ever heard in his life,
since he was a baby
and he used to look out his bedroom window
and listen to the thundering sound
of the pita-patter on the window-pane
when it was raining…
it was more powerful
than any kind of hunger or craving…
to Mark, the music was like the heart-beat of God…
to Mark, the music that came from his soul
was something that was transcendental…
to Mark, the music was what kept him
from becoming among humanities lost…
to Mark, the music he heard was what he loved…
and to him it was beautiful.

Becoming a member of a marching-band
had been a dream of Mark’s since he was a child –
Mark had everything that any band
would ever want, or ever need: Mark loved music,
and he loved his favourite instrument…
even as a child Mark would turn his parents’
pots and pans into home-made drums,
and he used to play them,
and his parents let him be free
and express himself, and go wild –
and if anybody came around to visit
Mark and his parents
they would see and hear
Mark playing the most phenomenal of beats,
and every day of his life
music, especially his music,
has become more and more important.

Mark tried-out to be in his high-school band…
Mark had dreams of one day playing
in the marching-band of his favourite
college football team…
Mark played and practiced every minute
he was awake or asleep,
and he knew that it he just played
with all his heart
that everything in his life
would happen as he always dreamed it would,
as if it were all a part of a plan –
however, all Mark could play,
all Mark wanted to play,
all Mark loved to play
was the beat that he heard within…
and when his moment came
to show just how incredible a player
and a drummer he was Mark froze…
and then he did what he always did –
he played the music that he knew and loved.

Mark never made it into the marching-band…
Mark was disappointed to not be able to play
and march in front of his favourite football team –
but he wasn’t sad…
to lift his spirits, Mark’s parents ordered him
a band-uniform all of his own and they told him to
“never stop playing” the music that made him
the most happy and the music he had always known…
Mark’s parents told him to go out in his uniform,
with his drum, and “fill the world” with his music
that to them was like no other –
and that is exactly what Mark did:
he went out…
he walked down the main street
of his home town’s most busiest road…
he stopped people and traffic
to a stand-still everywhere he went…
and as he played he knew
that because of his music
he would always be remembered
as the boy, and later the man,
who would always be known as
“The Drummer”.

TheDrummer-sketch-sq

My Poem ‘Easy’

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

The sound of a certain someone’s voice,
the need that has no choice;
the sight of a certain someone’s face,
the feeling of loving someone
in so many different ways;
the memory of a certain song,
the meaning that lasts so long;
the plans of the future,
the never-ending embrace
of a perfect lover.

Like the music of your childhood,
like the movies of your youth,
like giving a drop of blood,
like knowing without proof,
like the games that held your attention for hours,
like the tastes that you could never get enough of,
like the transcendental perfection
of the opening petals of a flower,
like the best kind of love
that feels like it has fallen from heaven above.

The easy, the free, the open, the hopeful,
the fresh, the new, the sweet, the beautiful,
the relaxed, the focus, the muse, the opus,
the great, the amazing, the fate, the exciting,
the butterfly, the moth, the smooth, the soft.

When you finally have what you have always wanted,
when you finally know beyond doubt
what you have always thought of,
dreamed about, and wished for,
when your life-long desire is standing
and looking at you on the other side of your eyelids
giving you a kiss,
then you know more than you could have ever known before –
but one thing that you know for certain
is that when things that are amazing
and life-changing are happening because of someone,
every step that you take because of them
is like dancing to the sound
of the beat of a song on a dance-floor.

There are some things that you just can’t make up;
there are some things that have the heart
and the soul of a great poet’s epic poetry;
there are some things that can be said with a look;
there are some things that mean so much,
and if you want them to be
can be so easy.

My Poem ‘Serendipitous’

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

Life is extraordinary!
Everything happens for a reason.
The universe is a tapestry.
Everything that seems like it is happening spontaneously
is actually occurring, and ticking along like a grand father clock,
and is maintaining itself with cosmic and epic precision.

Coincidence is a myth.
Nothing is accidental.
You are meant to be connected to whom
and what you are with;
the things that happen every second to everyone,
and are just waiting to come to life,
are spectacularly transcendental.

I have seen too much,
I have met too many people,
I have felt too much,
I have experienced too many things,
that have been breathtaking, incredible, and unbelievable,
to not believe that Life has a plan –
and to that plan we are all essential.
Every day I see and I am touched by the hand
and guided down a path of destiny,
that is like traveling and being carried on a cloud of music,
and being enlightened by the phenomenal and beautiful
muse of life-changing poetry.

I cannot describe or capture everything that I see;
I cannot tell everyone everything that happens to me;
but I can share and imbue the world and its people
with my energy, with my words,
with my divine and meaningful experiences,
and one poem after another show
and make people believe that this life that we all live
is more precious and special than any of us truly realize;
however, I have been gifted the insight, the feeling,
the magic show to eclipse all other magic shows ever
on more than one occasion, and I can tell you
that we are all a part of a work of art of cosmic proportions,
we are all stitches that are all attached to threads –
like the contra-trails of the engines of a jet –
and as we move through life our threads become entwined
with those of everyone else, and everything else;
and we all have an energy within all of our hearts and souls
that radiates and speaks to everything else, silently;
and there are moments in life when we hear, see, feel,
and are dumbfounded by perfect moments,
that were meant to happen,
and will lead to other perfect moments in the future,
and throughout all time and space –
because these awesome and phenomenal,
special and perfect moments,
are the universe existing at full-flow
for us all to see and to follow –
and it is then that we can all see
that the universe and all life is one, the same,
and serendipitous.