understanding

My Poem ‘Psychic Arithmetic’

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

We all know our own minds,
but other people see more of us
than we do;
we may spend all of our time
with ourselves,
but we do not see
all the things that we do;
we may all know our own
personal likes and dislikes,
but we may not all be familiar
with all of our routines;
we all may look in the mirror,
but it is other people
who see the face that constantly changes.

By acting on instinct
we all can sometimes
take our own actions for granted;
by repeating the same tasks for a while
we can find it hard to imagine
a life that is not already
a picture and a memory in our own head;
cycles and predictive patterns
are important to life on our planet;
everybody has their preferences:
what they like to drink?
what they like to eat?
what they like like to listen to,
and what they like to watch?
Some people just do not “feel right”
if they do not keep on their
preferred side of their own bed.

Some people just know us;
some people can just read us;
some people are just like an open book;
some people can tell the story
of who they are from a single look;
some people constantly analyze;
some people speak as well see with their eyes;
some people love us – no matter how predictable
and bound by our own insecurities,
obsessions and compulsions we are;
some people think that when they see us
we shine like a star;
some people are so incredibly psychic
that their gift can be deceptive;
some people teach us every day
that there is more to learn
about all forms of nature
just by looking, observing,
understanding and deciphering
the signs and mimicking the techniques
used by the best of those schooled
in the performance of psychic arithmetic.

My Poem ‘Sympatico’

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

It truly is good to share;
it truly is great to communicate;
it truly is epic to marvel at the most beautiful,
as you look, stop, revel, and stare;
it truly is miraculous to find someone,
and to know someone,
who from minute one
you instantly feel that they are
your long-lost soulmate.

Associations bind the planet;
relationships keep the heart of the world beating;
inside everybody is a secret poet;
there is no such thing
as an accidental or chance meeting.

The moment that you make a friend
you create ripples in their life,
and they create waves in yours;
the moment that you establish a rhythm with someone
you can always count on what drew you to them
in the first place, because to you
they are like a beautiful sand-covered beach shore;
when someone first makes you smile,
when someone makes you laugh for the first time,
there is an instant and growing synergy
and an energy that becomes spectacular
and breathtaking – like the scenery of a country mile;
and without having to try
there is a melding together
of hearts and minds.

True understanding does not always come from explaining,
true learning mostly comes from interacting and practicing;
true love for someone which is also mutual
is something that you really and truly just know;
the true pull of the universe
that holds everything together
is as mysterious as dark matter,
it is as beautiful and as shining as the stars –
and whether you realize it at all,
that which is the most important of them all in life
is to feel, to understand, to cherish,
and to realize that life is meant to be lived,
and as long as you have life
you have it all.

My Poem ‘Hard Rain’

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

It’s never too late
to learn something new;
it’s never going to be the case
that you are going to know
everything about everyone;
it is at times when you are not
expecting anything to come to light
that you invariably learn something
you never knew;
it’s never too late to ask questions
and get answers that make your thoughts
just want to run and run.

Music has always been important to me,
and to my family, for as long as I can remember,
since long before I was even born;
music has always had the key
to unlock the door into our soul;
however, it wasn’t until just recently
that I learned from my Dad
that he had once been a ‘roadie’
in the 1970’s for a rock-band,
and I am still enthralled and in awe
because (yet again) my Dad has surprised me
with an interesting and inspiring insight into him
which I love to learn and hear stories
told to me about –
because, to me, it just makes my Dad even more cool.

Hearing my Dad tell me how he used to help
transport and set up the equipment
of the band ‘Hard Rain’ –
a group that I had never heard of before –
I was inspired within seconds;
hearing my Dad reflect and remember
times that he enjoyed, as always,
brought a smile to my face
and made me feel emotions
that no one else could possibly understand.

As a child, I remember us as a family
having musical instruments around us:
a recorder, a keyboard, an organ,
an electric-guitar, an acoustic-guitar,
that my Dad used to play and strum
a song and a tune exquisitely with –
even now, my Dad knows more songs
and can sing every word of his favourite band,
‘The Beatles’, and he knows the deep meaning
within those magical lyrics,
and he has been moved by them
on more than one occasion – as have I –
and each song, and each piece of music,
I know when I hear them now,
are nothing short of amazing and incredible poetry.

I have always wanted to play an instrument,
write a song, come up with a melody,
bring my words and my inner music to life,
so that the whole world can hear it;
I have always wanted to take my poetry
and make my imagination and words
shine like no other poet;
I have always wanted to give something
back to people, and the world,
for reasons that I can’t fully explain;
I have always been someone
with a great eye and a great ear,
and, to me, seeing and hearing
as much as can be seen and heard
is a gift we are all born with –
and if you are someone creative,
or if you are someone who just
wants to be a part of something in some way,
then I can honestly say
that I too am there with you
in that want to be touched and changed,
and to remain connected to,
what makes my heart beat so long and so thunderous
as the music of hard rain.

My Poem ‘3/14/15’

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

Today is the 14th of March;
today feels like a Sunday,
however it is in fact a Saturday;
today feels like, in some way,
I have stepped out of the dark;
and today is also a great day,
because today is my Mum and Dad’s Anniversary –
and today, more than any other,
I am reminded about how my parents
absolutely love each other in every way.
Today is also ‘International Pi Day’ –
a day in which some people celebrate
the mathematical constant
that has no discernible end;
and, as I feel change happening all around me,
I am also reminded of the unchanging constants
in my life – namely my family:
on whom, I know I can always depend.

I have many constants in my life:
hope, poetry, music, optimism,
memory, thought, family, connections –
and when I feel them and I understand them
for what they are and for what they mean to me,
nothing else matters;
the pain of the past fades away,
and just being thankful for what I do have
always keeps the wolf, that sometimes visits me
at all times of the night or day, at bay.

Today feels like the perfect day
to hold on tight to the best thing in my life;
today feels like I am understanding something profound
with the wonderful gifts of hindsight, and foresight.
My heart feels brand new;
I am breathing fresh air now
that makes me feel light-headed –
as if I were experiencing high-altitude hypoxia
on top of a mountain;
my mind is reaching out into the big blue;
I am changing again;
I feel like I have just woken up
from an interesting dream, and come full-circle;
and today is the 14th of March, 2015.

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My Poem ‘Unforgettable Sixth Avenue’

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

They don’t understand;
how could they?
Everything that happened,
everything that I wrote,
happened to me,
and I wrote it in my words
and from my perspective;
how could anyone else understand
what it was like to go through what I went through,
if they were not there at the time,
if they did not feel how I felt in the moment;
people tell that they like what I write,
but I wonder what they actually think,
what they imagine when they read something of mine,
and I wonder if anyone will ever be able
to truly be of the same mind as me.

I remember walking the streets of New York City,
like it was yesterday –
in my mind, and in my heart, I am still there,
and I want to be there:
I can still hear the sounds,
I can still taste the air,
I can still see the lights of Broadway at night,
I can still remember the moment I was found,
I can still go back there anytime of the day
in my imagination and daydream
even the smallest of details
that I still remember and love to this day,
as I will everyday.

I treasure my memories,
and I replay the best and the brightest of my life
as often as I can;
I miss people, places, times,
that will always be special to me,
more than anyone could imagine;
I relive my youth,
because those years I never want to lose;
I listen to the songs that I remember hearing
on the radio as a child, and I understand them
and what they were trying to say to me then,
now more than I ever knew.

My heart has been open wide since the day I was born;
every day of my life,
something unforgettable has happened to me,
and I remember so much
I wonder if there is anyone else
who loves being alive
and remembering their experiences as much as I do;
even now, I can easily flashback
to the most perfect day of my life,
to the night when I wrote my first poem,
or to the moment when I remember
standing on the street corner
on the “Avenue of the Americas”,
on a beautiful September afternoon,
in Manhattan, in New York City,
and being in awe of the entire world
and the gifts of life
that I can still see happening right this second,
on Sixth Avenue.

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My Poem ‘Numbers’

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

Numbers surround us;
numbers connect us;
numbers help us remember things –
from the home where we live,
to the age that we are;
numbers define some people;
numbers are important to some people;
numbers are how some people
judge whether someone has something or nothing;
numbers have grown in importance and in prominence
since there invention –
from the moment that somebody started declaring
that one added to one is two,
and that the greater the number of something you have the better,
the more power you have,
and with your numbers you can do anything.

Numbers are more important to our daily lives than we realize;
certain numbers are more significant to us than others;
numbers are all that some people see in and with their eyes;
certain numbers: dates, times, addresses, “lucky numbers”,
can make people feel better;
numbers are our key to places, to our finances;
numbers can also be a sign of understanding and knowledge;
numbers are how we know the worth of something,
according to their prices;
numbers can be a way to encourage.

Numbers are fearsome, numbers are cruel,
numbers are tiresome, some numbers: not cool.
Numbers are stressful,
send you wild with rage;
numbers are frightening,
dictating your age.
Numbers keep you up revising,
deep into the night;
numbers make you shed a tear,
but persist and they’ll cause you delight.

Numbers are everywhere you look,
and sometimes they are more populous than words;
some numbers are constantly changing;
some numbers always remain the same;
numbers exist in their own, and they connect,
every kind of world;
numbers connect lots of things:
from follow counts on websites,
to balances in bank accounts;
from pin numbers, to lottery numbers;
from years of birth,
to the number that we see of a particular bird.
Everybody in the world secretly
has an inbuilt obsession with numbers.

With thanks to Katie Hewer for the third verse! 😉