true

My Poem ‘Living the dream’

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

Morning. Silence.
Blue sky. Sunday.
Sunshine. Green leaves.
The sound of flying birds and bees.
People having breakfast;
people cutting their lawn;
people still in bed
enjoying a well-earned rest;
people opening their eyes to the daylight;
people opening their mouths wide with a yawn.

Church bells ringing;
friends cycling;
music on the radio playing;
somebody somewhere
on the early morning ocean
sailing, loving, breathing, living.

Walkers, runners, riders,
painters, daydreamers, photographers,
embrace every moment of light and feeling;
diners, parishioners,
attend the same place of worship
and break bread together to prove
that they believe what they believe;
pilots, para-gliders,
balloonists, sky-divers
take to the air and defy gravity
and live the dream of touching the worlds ceiling –
people who just want to step away
from the rush of the world for a short time
and feel the amazing and the rejuvenating energy
of total and utter release.

People experiencing awe;
people feeling wonder;
people traveling far;
people feeling hunger.
I look at the world
and I see depths of colour;
I listen to what I hear,
and I hear sounds
from every length of the sound spectrum –
from water-drops in a pond
to the joyous explosion
of a child’s laughter.

Life is important;
life and purpose is individually indefinable,
and yet understandable, tangible,
as well as miraculously magical;
life can only be lived once;
life and dreams can sometimes be indistinguishable;
life is living and not worrying
about the things that people sometimes say
and the things that some people do;
life is reading, feeling, sharing,
and witnessing the dream of life come true.

My Poem ‘Never-ending’

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

Words that mean so much;
smiles of I love you;
I have someone in my life
with whom I will always trust –
because she is so beautiful,
because she shines so bright,
because for her
there is nothing that I would not do,
because she is my life.

Words can’t say it all;
touch is the only way;
I need to express my timeless love
to my beautiful angel
in every way every day –
because she is all that I see,
because she is the one
with whom I have always felt
shared the same spirit as my own,
because I love her
and she loves me.

Understanding means the most;
bank accounts go up and down;
every day with my soulmate
feels like an endless day
soaking up the sun
on a beach on the gold coast –
because to me my Angel princess
already wears a golden halo
that doubles as a crown.

I had searched the world
for the one who was meant for me,
then one day I followed a star
and came face to face with meant to be –
and when I ran to her
I knew that no matter what
I had to be with her.

Life is like a song;
music can guide your way;
if your heart is true
you cannot ever truly go wrong;
and on that day when you know
beyond any doubt
that the meaning of everything
is the person that you have found,
the beating of two hearts as-one
and in-time is the one and only sound.

I will never stop
loving the one I love;
I will never stop
doing the things that I have always loved –
but the one thing that is my everything
is the love that I share
with the woman who will always be my everything,
because what we have is never-ending.

My Poem ‘Koi No Yokan’

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

‘Koi No Yokan’ – Japanese origin:
“The feeling upon meeting someone
that falling in love with them
is inevitable”

The right place, the right time,
the right face, the right light,
the right spirit, the right person,
the right minute, the bright light of the right star
who fills your sky and your life instantly –
a perfect angel, a beautiful sun.

Every lock has its own combination;
until you hear the unmistakable ‘click‘
you cannot know what is locked away inside something;
every look has a shine to it of wonderful fascination;
every mixture of words, thoughts, emotions,
and intentions is its own spell of magic.

Love between two destined
and fatefully connected people is inevitable;
love that is meant to be
is not always instantly understandable and conceivable;
love that grows stronger over time is addictive,
intoxicating, and incredible;
love that is timeless can never dim
nor become any less intense,
because such love is indescribable
and worth fighting every day for.

Love can be shown;
love can be expressed;
love can be said in many different ways
in every language all over the world;
love is more than any simple word;
love is a question; love is an answer;
love is a meaning; love between two soulmates
is rejuvenating and healing;
love is its best when it is instant,
natural, and it comes into your life
and never leaves –
because if it were to run away
you would never stop feeling
within your heart and your soul
as if something were missing.

You may love many things,
you may love many people in your life –
but your one true love
is everlasting beyond compare,
and they are what you think
and dream about from morning to night;
you may meet someone
and instantly feel a connection with them,
as if you have known them for years –
and that feeling is so unbelievable,
and it means so much,
that no matter where you go,
being together and loving one-another
with all your heart
is not only beautiful to behold
like a beautiful perennial flower,
but it is also the most amazing miracle
that will ever happen to you in your life,
and from day one is indescribably inevitable.

My Poem ‘The Night Owl’

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

You stay up all through the night;
you see the shine of the moon,
as well as the rise of the morning sunlight;
your natural environment is darkness;
your natural instincts come alive
when the world is quiet
and you can spread your wings
and use to the best of your ability
your finely-honed senses;
you see more than most others do;
the daylight You is more beautiful than words,
but the nocturnal You allows you
to show parts of you
that can only be seen
by they who can see that you are
the most wonderful and magical miracle
in the entire world.

You look, you see, you hear, you know;
you take flight into the air
faster than a firefly;
when you hear the heartbeats
and the pulses of energy
of the music of the night,
before you can think
you are following your own heart,
and away you go!

When I see you,
you glow and draw me towards you;
when I look into your big,
gorgeous, dark-brown eyes,
my thoughts burn like the sun;
when you call to me,
I feel like I may soon
turn into a mythical wild animal –
like a werewolf howling at the moon;
when I take in everything about you –
when I watch you, when I follow you,
I feel with every fiber of my being
that you are my true heart and soul desire,
and I feel like I would not and could not
be me if I did not have you.

There is life that thrives
and was made to have an innate connection
with the twilight;
there are people who only know
the tranquility that can be found
in the dark when the stars can be seen shining bright;
there is life with gifts
that mostly show themselves
only when the sun has set below the horizon –
with powers to them that, to me, are in every way
amazing, epic, magical, and mythical;
there are people who feel comfortable
in their own skin who feel serene and wonderful
when they can be their natural self,
when they are up all night long
and enjoying every moment
of being the quintessential night-owl.

My Poem ‘True Calling’

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

There is a reason
why a writer is a writer;
there is a reason
why an artist is an artist;
there is a reason
why a singer is a singer;
there is a reason
why someone can pick up an instrument
that calls to them,
and why when they play
they can do so epically and with such ease.

Acting without thinking,
moving with fluidity,
expressing without talking,
feeling the intensity
and the deep meaning
and wonder of your natural ability,
and not having to try;
being yourself; living the good life;
feeling rejuvenated to overflowing
and perfect health.

Words, numbers, sight, sound,
taste, touch, day, night,
sense, style, view, voice,
darkness, light;
symbols, windows, music, life,
colour, vibrations,
leap, dive, rise, and shine.

There are some things you “just know”;
there are some songs you replay
that will never get old;
there are some things that “just flow”;
there are some things you can see
and understand without having to be told.

Music is life filtered,
interpreted and expressed, through the senses,
inspired by the seasons and the surroundings
that the artist finds themselves,
that comes from the source and the heart
that lives to breath and beat
constantly and indomitably;
muse is inspiration made tangible –
which you can touch with your mind,
with your body, with your spirit and soul,
that keeps your artistic fire alight,
and keeps alive your unquenchable desire
to express the inexpressible.

What is meant for you
will always catch you
if you ever find yourself falling;
believe in destiny;
never forget that which to you is truly beautiful;
listen to what is all around you;
follow and answer that which to you
is your true calling.

My Poem ‘The First Impression’

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

The first impression
is always the most important;
the way that you present yourself
speaks volumes about how important
something is to you;
the first word that you speak
echoes and forever stands out;
the old saying that you can tell a lot
about someone just by watching
and noticing how someone walks in their shoes,
and what someone’s choice of footwear
can tell you about someone,
is absolutely true;
the first of anything
sets the standard for everything to follow;
the first expression can have as much impact
as a burst of light from the sun;
the first message is often forgotten –
however, if and when reread,
that same first chain of words,
at the end of everything,
always resurfaces and means the most;
the first signs, the first icons,
can imprint more meaning, more feeling,
and they can be a source of constant hope,
like the always recognizable symbol of love.

Meeting someone you love,
meeting someone you care for and adore,
meeting someone you have never met before for the first time,
meeting and greeting someone at your front door,
is one of the best things that will ever happen to you –
especially, because the more instant
and unexpected that first meeting is
it can speed up your thoughts
and your heart-rate so fast that
that first view can change you.

Love at first sight is true,
it exists, and it is not simply a myth
invented by romantics;
the first exposure to anything,
especially at a young age,
will inform a great many
of your important life-decisions;
the first reaction that you have to something
can sometimes be deceptive –
but the look that someone gives you with their eyes
can be as rhythmic as a song-lyric;
and just as everybody follows one kind
and one type of a fashion,
so too does everything grow
from that very important first impression.

My Poem ‘One of a kind father’

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

The real and true super-man of my childhood;
the one man while growing up
who could make anything and everything happen;
the hero of great strength,
whose greatest super-power makes us who we are,
because they are a part of us,
just as we are a part of them,
and because their life-force
is literally in our blood;
the man who we look to
and imprint on from day one;
our Dad, our father,
our sun who shines down and smiles upon us
when we are feeling sad;
our life-giving, caring, amazing, creator
who for us there could be no other.

Birthdays, holidays, unmissable moments
that would not be the same
without that one special person;
first words, first voices, first steps
that may never have been
without the man who watched over us,
and who called to us,
and who encouraged us to never stop;
mornings, nights, early rises, bedtimes
that always would have been missing
something and someone important
if we had not have had them;
the constant giant
who we all looked to
as our all-powerful god.

My Dad loves his family,
and my family love my Dad;
if it were not for my Dad
I would not be the man that I am,
nor would I have had the extraordinary,
happy, love-filled life
that I have been blessed to have had;
my father and my mother
were always fated to meet each other
and to be together,
and while there is blood in my veins,
and air in my lungs,
I will always feel the spirit, the love,
and I will always speak the name
of the best man in my life,
who will be with me everyday…
and that man is my incredible, wonderful,
amazing, one of a kind, father.

My Poem ‘When’

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

When things happen is no accident;
timing is everything;
when it is the right time to do something
is sometimes a matter of instinct;
when the conditions are favourable and right
anyone can do anything.

Sometimes you just know;
sometimes you just have a feeling;
sometimes you have to lead,
and sometimes you have to follow;
sometimes to learn how dangerous something is
you have to walk into a storm
and accept the possibility
that you might get struck by lightning.

Most things that seem accidental
are actually fateful;
most things that feel out of the blue
are wishes come true;
most things that feel natural
are the real deal;
most things that you want
you to work hard for,
but life can be so much easier
if you remember, and if you count on,
those who were there when you needed them
years before.

The time is now;
the choice is simple;
the rebuilding of anything can only happen
if you can truthfully make a vow;
time only counts if you make something of it;
if something means anything to you at all
then it is always worth reaching out
and trying again;
if you want to see a flower bloom again in your garden,
you need to take some time
and you need to pay some attention
to the importance of the ‘when’.

My Poem ‘Dreams’

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

Dreams are where we live our second life,
and where we live out our thoughts and wishes;
dreams are the alternate reality
where anything you want to happen can happen
without consequence;
dreams are where we live out our fantasies,
and share hidden kisses;
dreams are where we can go anywhere we can imagine –
into a possible future that you hope will come true,
or the memory of a school trip that you had
to the south of France;
dreams can seem more real than reality,
and can feel like a more desirable place to live;
dreams can seem to last for days,
when you are deeply involved in the constantly changing
and evolving dream creation of another world;
dreams can seem like heaven,
depending on whom you are dreaming you are with;
dreams can seem strange, weird,
too good and fantastic to ever be true,
and wonderfully absurd-
however, dreams are as necessary to life
when we are asleep as oxygen is to us when we are awake;
dreams can be a cure, a therapy, what we need to stay alive,
but also a medicine that can be hard for us to take.

The dreams that we have when we are a child
are the best dreams that we will have in our lives-
especially the good ones;
the dreams that we have when we are an adult
are sometimes mostly filled with worry
and things that we constantly have
floating on the surface of our mind;
the dreams that we have when we are in another country,
or in a wonderful but unfamiliar place,
on holiday, are free of angst and expectation,
and are dreams of pure unbounded imagination;
the dreams that we have after meeting someone new
are as beautiful as what the world must be imagined like
to someone who has for their entire life been completely blind.

I have had hopeful dreams;
I have had beautiful dreams;
I have had dreams in which I have met people
I have wanted to meet since I was young.
I have had nightmares;
I have had bad dreams that have brought me face to face
with the source of all my fears.
I have had imaginary encounters that even to this day
I still remember having,
because they still continue to be more important to me
than to others they might seem.
In my mind, at night,
I have been able to rewrite the times when I was wrong;
I have dreamed of things that I do not clearly remember
in great detail the morning after,
but I have awoken in tears.
I have always been fascinated by the power of inspiration
and the infinite capacity of both the conscious mind,
and the unconscious mind, and I love remembering
and finding the answer to a riddle
played out before me in real life,
of something I once saw, felt, and did in my dreams.

My Poem ‘Ghost on my bed’

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

When I was a child,
around the age of eight or nine,
I was sleeping in bed,
when I suddenly woke up in the dark-
I’m not sure what time it was,
but it was definitely after midnight-
and the lasting memory
that has stayed with me every day since
is that of me turning over in my bed
to look down at the light
coming from underneath my bedroom door,
and even though it was seemingly warm in my bed,
the air around me had gone incredibly cold-
as if I were sleeping in a bedroom
that was also a fridge;
and I also remember, from out of nowhere,
the feeling that I was being watched,
and that I was not alone.

I must have been lying there
for what must have been only a few seconds,
when I turned my head to look away from the light
towards the dark of my bedroom wall,
when I suddenly felt the mattress I was sleeping on
sink, as if someone was sitting on my bed besides me,
and I could feel their weight,
and their touch on the back of my neck.
It was definitely not the wind,
it was definitely not my imagination;
it was definitely someone, or something;
it was definitely a presence, a spirit,
a phantom, an apparition,
that felt real and was real-
it was a life that was still living in some form,
who had come to pay me a visit.

I did not make a sound;
I did not cry;
I did not look around;
I did feel frightened and unsettled, I am not going to lie;
I just lay there; I just listened;
I just closed my eyes and wondered whether
when I woke up in the morning
whomever was now sitting on my bed would still be there;
I just remember drifting away,
until I saw the light of my dreams glisten.

I woke up in the morning,
still with the memory of the night before
alive and burning in my mind.
I opened the curtains to let the new day’s sunlight in,
and I looked around, and I sighed.
To this day, I do not know what, or who,
came to me on that night a long time ago;
I do not know if they were once alive and they knew me,
or someone I know who is not yet dead;
I do not know who was there in the gloom of my room,
but I do know that one night when I was a boy
there was a ghost who sat on my bed.