world

My Poem ‘Analog’

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

The world is like a ticking clock…
the universe is the most breathtaking
and complex time-piece…
the Earth is far more than
a green and blue planet
of trees, oceans, and rock…
life is a monument
and an unfinished puzzle
of an infinite number of pieces.

All worlds turn silently in a vacuum…
all life is unique…
all explosions create a plume…
all things have the ability to speak…
nothing is by accident…
every song is the offspring
of the trinity of a musical artist:
heart, mind, and soul…
all music is like a thing of magic…
the random and the unexpected
is what makes life feel
ever the more real…
sometimes the more unmarked
and the more perfect something appears
the more fake it can seem…
sometimes the more you add to something
the more that you take away from it…
sometimes the more you dream about something
the more that you build a bridge
between the imaginary and the seen,
and that is when something phenomenal begins
like a tempest of energy behind your eye-lids.

We all share, and we all receive…
we all upload, and we all download…
we all like our freedom,
and we like to be loyal in our own way
and return home to the place
and to the people we love…
we all think… we all breathe…
we all code… we all have our very own
introduction, life, story, and epilogue…
sometimes the best things in life
happen when you embrace
the unedited version of something,
and to me there are fewer things purer
than those that can be enjoyed in analog.

My Poem ‘Geronimo!’

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

What have you got to lose?
Don’t let the moment of a life-time pass you by;
if you have an opportunity to do something
life-changing then don’t refuse…
Take it from me,
your life can change in the blink of an eye,
so if someone gives you the means
to live your dreams
make sure that you be like Super-man,
be who you were born to be… and fly!

Everyone at some point in the life has made a choice
like that of jumping off a cliff…
everybody, everyday, lives every second
on a dream, a hope, and a wish…
everybody in their life searches for an answer
to show itself as if staring
at the scanner of a radar-dish…
everyone, everyday, loses something of value to them
and it is at those times,
even as an adult,
that we know and we relive
how we felt when we were a kid.

There is a world out there
just waiting for you
to introduce yourself to it…
there are things happening
beyond the bright-blue yonder
that eclipses anything captured
in photos on the internet…
there are people to meet who will make you smile…
there are numbers to save
that you will want to put on redial…
there are sights that will take your breath away…
there are perfect memories waiting to be made…
there are places that the world wants to show…
there are secrets that the almighty want to be known…
there is a time when you just have to close your eyes,
let go, and take a leap into the unknown
while shouting at the top of your voice:
Geronimo!

My Poem ‘The Mermaid’

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

Before writers started looking
above the clouds and imagining
the wonders of creation
that may live on other worlds,
orbiting around other stars…
before philosophers started dwelling
on the burning questions of human existence…
before any child ever dreamed
about setting foot on another planet…
before rockets, before planes,
before trains, before cars…
before there were countries with governments
led by the will of presidents…
the ancient seven seas of Earth
were believed by many to be
where the most amazing and fantastic,
supernatural and magical,
being and life resided –
and there must have been many
a sea-faring captain of a ship
who must have stayed up all night long
dreaming about capturing
a mythical creature from the ocean depths.

Epic and gigantic monsters…
tentacled behemoths…
giant and colossus monstrosities…
the nightmare characters of those who spent days,
months, even years, battling the forces of nature
over vast expanses of the oceans of the world
hoping to come face to face
with the unseen and the undiscovered…
in the days when and where dragons were thought
to live on the literal edge of the Earth…
gods of all names, sizes and colours, were worshiped
and had monuments erected in their honour…
when the possibility of traveling to another country
on the other side of the world
was so incredible to think of
it could only be the stuff of fantasy…
it was in the days before
the world fought itself in war after war
that everybody believed there was more to be found
than anybody had ever seen before.

Even in this day and age,
even in this decade and century,
we are still discovering life on our planet
that for some reason or another
had remained hidden and secret in seclusion
and were only the spoken or written word
of a story told and retold
by people who claimed to have had
a first-hand close-encounter;
every day something extraordinary
has a light shined upon it
and the knowledge of it actually being
a living-thing is so miraculous
it creates shock-waves;
there is no more powerful reminder
of the infinite possibilities of life
than nature – and there are countless times
when that fact has been abundantly clear;
everywhere you look,
every day around the world,
even today in the 21st century,
we are all surrounded by images
and iconography of myths that still live on –
be they leprechauns, dragons, epic crusades,
or a beautiful green and white mermaid.

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My Poem ‘The Crimson Cardinal’

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

The bold red Cardinal;
the striking male;
the vibrant and the wonderful;
the one who does not shy away
and who knows that they are something special
from their beak to their tail.

Naturally energetic;
a lover of life;
happy to help others
if and when they can…
someone capable of generating
great vibrancy, warmth,
fire and passion.

Colour in nature is deliberate;
why things are coloured the way that they are
has a deeper meaning than some may think;
some colours are subtle;
some colours are loud;
some colours are unmistakable;
some colours are meant to stand out from the crowd;
some colours are spiritual;
some colours are essential signs
for the lost and for the found.

No matter who you are,
no matter what you do,
no matter where you go,
no matter if and when
the world feels calm and still…
there is more to what you feel,
there is more to what you see,
there is more to life
than even the beautiful sunlight can show us,
and sometimes the only way to know something
for sure is to use your heart and call out…
and then, perhaps, the answer
may reveal itself to you,
just as I believe that my path, my faith,
and my destiny became clear to me once again
when I looked out into the world
and I was visited by the vision
and the living manifestation
of my internal passion…
that came one morning, in Tennessee,
in the unforgettable form
of the Crimson Cardinal.

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My Poem ‘You’re my world’

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

You are my world.
You are my star.
You are my every word.
You are my heart.
You are my love for life.
You are my day,
you are my night.
You are my faith,
you are my belief.
You are my soulmate.
You are my dream come true.
You are my sun
that makes all the flowers
of my garden bloom.
You are my favourite song.
You are my morning sunshine
who makes me smile.
You are my life,
and with you is where I belong.
You are my sparkling diamond.
You are my beautiful pearl.
You are my burning desire
who inflames my body and my mind.

You, Melissa…
you are my world.

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My Poem ‘The Light-years’

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

The sun is the herald
of light, energy,
awakening, and growth;
somewhere in the world
and high-above
the star at the heart of our sky
shines and effects all of our lives
more than any of us
could ever possibly know;
light can be a life-inducer;
there are some places on Earth
where because the light is different
time feels almost frozen –
a single day can feel like a year.

Nothing is ever truly stationary;
the universe, the galaxy, Earth,
our world is constantly on the move;
even seemingly empty space
is always full of something –
the mystery of the darkness
the surrounds our perfect jewel of life
too is full of shining clues;
something that happens,
even if it is light-years away,
creates ripples in space and time
that will eventually be there
at the dawn of a future brand new day.

Billions of light-years away,
billions of light-years ago,
the dark space that now exists
between the stars and the planets
was one bright beautiful light;
the universe was smaller,
life was just truly beginning;
anyone and everyone could see
the constant streams of celestial energy flow;
there was only day, there was no night;
every instant was like a constant roller-coaster
of emotions of our many senses,
and you would only have to look at a star
to hear it sing.

The bigger the universe has become,
the more that time and reality
has been pulled and stretched in every direction;
the more that life has splintered
into many from one,
everything has felt as if it were
on the verge of snapping back
because of the almighty galactic tension.

The universe has become infinite,
while life on every planet
has become finite;
as everything becomes a rush,
the more that the time we have
to truly take everything in
becomes even more precious;
there will always be love;
there will always be fear;
there will always be a reminder
that we are one of many
and yet always connected every day
and every night in the sky above;
there will always be something out there
calling to us all with a voice
powerful and capable of traversing
within the blink of an eye
the distance and the time
between every light-year.

My Poem ‘Christmas Time’

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

“So this is Christmas,
and what have you done…”
sang John Lennon on the radio
as I sat with my pen and notebook,
as the sun shone through the windows
and reflected off the chrome panels
of a nearby building;
I was near an open door all the while –
but not for a second did I feel cold;
the Christmas songs kept playing,
the air was cozy,
and everybody around me
was locked in their own world;
the Christmas colours and lights
were bright and bold,
and just as I got to the end
of the first verse of my new poem
a familiar voice sang loud:
“Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!”

I sit. I stare. I blink. I smile.
I write. I think about how much
I have in common with the life of a sundial –
because I too would be nothing
without the light of the star from afar
that gives my life meaning
and endows me with all that I need
to be who I am supposed to be.

As Louis Armstrong sings
of the “trees of green”
and the “red roses too”
and the blue skies of our “wonderful world” –
I know, I see, I remember
all that he sang about
and what I too believe makes out planet
standout from any other
in the entire universe;
so often, I become both lost and overflowing
with words to describe
all that I see and all that I feel;
I do not know who I would be
if I could not write the language of my heart
on a page in connected verse of poetry.

“White Christmas” starts to play,
and instantly I am back in time
and I am imagining things that happened
so many years ago –
I remember the snow of my childhood,
I remember the happy times I spent with my family,
I remember imagining that if anybody
were to walk on the surface of the moon again
then of course I would;
I remember seeing true beauty
in fallen snowflakes
and knowing that there was more to me and to life,
and twenty years before I would ever have thought
to write anything that I would now
consider in any way poetic.

One last song plays
before I have to leave the place where I am now;
where I am going next I do not know for sure,
because I do not have a fixed plan –
however, as I think of a title
to sign-off my brand new chain of rhymes,
I decide to use the last words
of the song that I hear…
and as my poem is about the world of today,
about me, and is in itself a snap-shot of life –
this poem is about this moment,
and at this moment it is definitely
Christmas time.

My Poem ‘Finding Your Place’

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

Finding your place in the world
is an adventure in-and-of itself;
finding the place
where you are meant to be
can literally be a way
for you to feel things
that you have never felt;
finding a place that feels
like a part of you,
as you do of it,
is like finding a perfect oasis –
and there is no more perfect haven
or heaven on Earth to a poet
than a place where they
can be surrounded
by their literary companions,
contemporaries, and heroes
who are as intriguing as people
as they are fascinating and fantastic
as that which they wrote.

Thrill-seekers love roller-coasters;
book-lovers love libraries;
artists love galleries;
music-lovers love stereos,
headphones, music-players,
and they love the visceral
live experience of a concert;
people without fear
love to jump without looking,
and they love to let go
and be free of gravity
and push the limits
of what is possible
as far as they can go.

I found my sanctuary
when I first fell in love with writing;
I found my inner-author
when I first collected together
my poetry and crafted my very first
anthology of the world
that I had been living and observing;
I found my spark of inspiration
when I was first touched by a divine light
that came directly from the sky
and our nearest star;
I found a new world
hidden behind an invisible veil
when I began to believe
that I had a gift of insight
that could help other people
to see things and to inspire people
to make their mark.

I have met phenomenally-gifted people in my life;
I have dreamed dreams that may keep other people
awake for days and nights;
I have walked in the shadows of giants,
and I have been carried away
by the gaze of Angels’ light;
I have broken though clouds of confusion;
I have prayed that one day
I would never have to stop
caressing the love of my life
and my muse’s beautiful face;
I have questioned life,
and I have searched the inner-
and outer- universe for answers and reasons –
however, just as I was searching
and asking to be shown my ultimate fate,
while looking up at a shooting-star
streaking through space,
where I was always meant to be
and whom I am meant to be with
were already calling to me;
and that is why I would always want
people to remember and to realize
that one day, sooner or later,
near or far-away,
as long as you keep doing
what you have been doing,
when you are supposed to
you will find your own place.

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My Poem ‘Time to Remember’

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

We remember the heroes;
we remember the villains;
we remember the what,
the where, the when, and the why;
we remember the people who tried;
we remember the people who achieved;
we remember those who fought the good fight
but who died while doing what they loved
and what they believed in;
we remember the good times,
and we remember the bad;
we remember the times
that went by too quickly,
that we remember coming to an end
as we looked over our shoulder and cried.

As the weather turns colder,
as the leaves change colour
and then fall to the ground,
as people wrap up more
and wear more layers,
as we buy fireworks and light bonfires
and we gather together
and we start to think about the well-being
of our significant others,
a spirit of good-will and humanity
sweeps over the world.

We should all be thankful for what we have;
there will always be someone
who will look at you
and want what means the most to you;
we all make new footprints
while walking again down familiar paths;
sometimes, especially at this time of the year,
things of importance come to light
that before you always wondered about
but you never knew.

Gifts of sentiment,
things that still carry a shine of memory,
the unique and the different,
the people who matter to you dearly,
seem to glow brighter
at the coldest and the darkest time of the year-
and now is the perfect time
to tell someone or to remind someone
that as long as they are in your thoughts
and as long as they are a part of your life
that they need not fear.

Gather, surround,
think, thank, be grateful, wrap,
step closer, invite,
reconnect the ties
that were once believed severed forever;
forgive, but do not forget;
make the most of the present;
save all that you can,
because these are the times
of your life to remember.

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My Poem ‘My Chikadee’

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

You save me every day,
my beautiful angel;
you make me feel
like I have never felt;
you give me everything
and if I could
I would give you anything,
because you are my world;
you and I share the same heart and soul,
and every time I tell that I love you
and you tell me that you love me
I feel so happy beyond content,
and I honestly believe
that at any moment
I am literally going to melt.

From sunrise to sunset,
from moon-climb and moonlight
until the sun shines again
in the blue sky above,
I promise to be there
for you whenever you need me –
because you are and you always will be
the angel of my life
who I will never stop thinking about –
and over and over again,
every second of every day,
I fall even deeper in love.

What we have is love never-ending;
what we give to one another
to me is more important
than the air that I am breathing;
what we have both found in each other
is dazzling and will forever be amazing;
what we both know is eternal
within each of us
is the music that comes out
from all of our hearts
that plays only for the one
we are meant to be with,
and every second that my heart sings out to you
I constantly never stop hearing
the beautiful voice of your heart’s calling.

No matter what happens around us,
I promise, my love, that our path is clear;
no matter what other people choose to obsess about,
I want you to always know that to me
you always will be the life and soul of my heart,
and since you first walked into my life
I have never been happier.

Nothing is more important than you and me;
I am yours, and you are my destiny;
no matter where we both are with each other,
as long as we are together
you and I will always be happy;
our bond is infinite;
our love is deep;
we are meant to be,
and I will always love you,
my beautiful Chikadee.

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