writer

My Poem “Finale”

Mark Hastings books, life, me, Poetry , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Not every story
that you find yourself drawn into
ends in the way that you want it to…
Not every story can have that
happy ending that people wants…
Not every story can be the version
that the reader or the viewer
of a story has in their head –
because stories are both a creator’s
and audience’s medium,
and one in which there is not always
a shared instinct into how a particular story
should begin, progress, unveil itself,
and ultimately end.

Every story naturally must have a beginning
and every story naturally must have an end –
and while a writer is writing a story
the world in which they are building
and the characters they are choosing
to include within their story
can change in direction, shape,
and intention from
how they were initially envisioned…
readers and viewers of a story
usually only get to read, or to see,
the finished, polished,
and final version of a story
and they are oblivious to all
the various choices, changes,
and minutiae that had to be
considered by the stories’ author
in order to make a story, their story,
as perfect as can be.

Every story is a challenge…
every story is a journey…
every creator of every story
thinks, feels, considers,
and lives every word and every line
of the story that they set out to
make a reality and one which
people might choose to invest their time into…
every author does not take the death
of a character in one of their stories lightly
and they are fully aware of how
their story can change
and be internalized differently
depending on who is enjoying them.

Writing can sometimes be hard –
however, at the same time,
writing can be one of the best
and one of the most life-changing things
you can ever commit yourself to…
when a writer first begins building a world,
a reality, a universe, the farthest thought
from their mind is that of having to finish
what they started –
so when they arrive at the moment of having
to wrap-up a story and a journey
that has meant so much to them,
take it from me, there is never an
easy way to write a perfect
and truly satisfying finale.

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My Poem “Never Stop Reaching”

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

Most dreamers, most writers,
most artists, like me,
often reach beyond what they know
in order to imagine, to see,
and to understand things
that they do not know,
have never experienced,
and have never seen –
sometimes you just have to,
sometimes you just have to
take a leap of imagination
into another world
equipped with as much knowledge
and first-hand accounts from people
who have been through
what you want to say
and let what you have heard
play out throughout your mind
and be interpreted with your own
internal voice and your artistic echo chamber,
and then share with your own
artistic license in the way
that a poet does…
no two people will have
the exact same thing to say about the same something –
unless they are experiencing a moment
of true and unfiltered synchronicity –
because, most of the time,
our memories and our experiences
have their own unique and predetermined
say on how we will personally
react to a given situation…
everybody finds their own truth
in their own time…
everybody finds their own gifts
in their own way…
everybody finds their own identity
in the mirror the more that they
find people who inspire them
and give them an answer to
what and why they are who they are
and how they should be living their life…
everybody finds their own discipline to practice,
their own doctrine to follow,
their own natural medicine to heal their own
unseen scars, the more that they
make strides down paths
that they do not know the end of…
everybody who is adventurous
is like a child – no matter how old they are –
because they know that sometimes
you have to reach the edge of something,
sometimes you have to leap
into the unknown without thinking,
and no matter what you are doing
you should never stop reaching.

My Poem “Touched”

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

I am no one special,
I am but a poet, a writer, a dreamer,
an optimist, a hopeful romantic –
however, there have been times in my life
when I have felt truly touched and honored
that something that I wrote or created
touched someone else
so much so that they wanted
to share that which I expressed from my mind,
from my heart, and from my soul,
at a fundamental moment in their lives
because it meant something to them:
a friend of mine once asked me if they could
have a poem that I wrote read
at their wedding ceremony,
I was once asked to write a poem
that would ultimately inspire the creation
of a brand new song,
and just recently a poem that I wrote
and I recorded myself reciting 10 years prior
was incorporated into a song
that I must admit to listening to all the time…
I am no one special –
I never have been someone who
has ever had a natural talent
to sing about from the rooftops –
but I have always had a way with words,
I have always had a love of language,
and I have always believed that words
should flow when they are read
and they should enter a person’s consciousness
in the same way that music does…
I am no one special –
I have been told that
I used to be a bit of narcissist
when I was younger –
however, these days, I do not
pat myself on the back as much as I used to,
and even though I believe that
I have learned a lot as I have lived,
I still think that there is
so much more to life that I have to learn…
I am no one special, I am no angel –
however, I just hope that people will
remember me long after my body has turned to dust…
I am no one special, I have made mistakes –
but I must admit that no matter
what happens to me, and where I end up,
I can honestly say that I really did
try my best throughout my life
to be the best person that I could be,
and I will always be eternally grateful
to everybody who has given me the gift
of touch and who has enabled me to be
someone who has made a difference
by making people feel
as if they have been touched.

My Poem “Reader’s World”

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

There are books about everything…
There are books about anything…
There are books of fiction,
and there are books of fact…
There are books about possible futures,
there are books about the past…
There are books about heroes…
There are books about aliens…
There are books about journeys…
There are books about friends…
There are books about food…
There are books about cars…
There are books about paths in life
that you should choose…
There are books about the planets
of our solar system,
and there are many books
about the question of whether
there was, and still is, life on Mars…
There are books about celebrities…
There are books about authors…
There are books about cities…
There are books about nature…
There are books about animals,
mammals, insects, reptiles,
forests, jungles, flowers, plants,
predators, herbivores, carnivores,
extinct species, and there are thousands of books
about history, about archaeology,
and about all the different big and small
varieties that there were of dinosaur…
There are books about films…
There are books about T.V. shows…
There are books about dreams…
There are books about clothes…
There are entire libraries filled
with books from floor to ceiling
that are a treasure troves
of different worlds…
There are second-hand bookstores
that are entrances to many different
places where you can find yourself,
where you can find someone, something,
somewhere to identify with…
There are bookshops which,
when you walk into them,
instantly give you this feeling
of being welcomed into a sanctuary
of fellow book-lovers, book-enthusiasts,
and book-buyers, who understand
why books and stories are so important to everybody –
from young to old, of every sex,
of every walk of life, of every skin colour…
Humanity is a species of storytellers…
Our world is planet of infinite stories…
Some humans are natural born artists
and sharers of feelings and experiences…
Earth and humanity have constantly
been living in a symbiotic relationship
with one another since the dawn of time –
and since our ancestors first looked up
to the stars of the night sky
we have imagined, dreamed, and told stories about
what else and who else could be out there
looking down upon us from above
as we look up at them –
and I have great confidence and optimism
that our fascination with what we know
and with what we don’t know
will never stop inspiring all of us
to seek and out discovery
something that we do not yet know…
It is our collective gift of curiosity
that has always driven the human heart
and soul to want to create worlds
and tell stories for others to read
and to learn from –
which is not a surprise to me,
since we know that since our species
first learned how to paint
and how to record what was on their mind for others to see
we have been members of a reader’s world.

My Poem “Excelsior!”

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

Some writers are natural born storytellers…
some creators create characters
who are so Mighty, so Amazing, so Incredible,
so Fantastic, that they leap from the words,
from the pictures, from the pages,
where they were first written and drawn,
and they ascend and travel far beyond
the dreams of the one who first
breathed life into them…
some writers have a way of defining
the times that they live in with their stories,
and then there are those writers
whose imagination is so beyond
any measurable spectrum that their influence
stretches over space and time…
there are very few writers and creators
like Stan “The Man” Lee –
because he was a Marvel in his own right
and a god to those who knew of him
and what his characters and stories
will always mean to the world…
Stan Lee was more than just a writer
and a creator of some of the most influential
superheroes of our time:
Spider-man, The Hulk, Thor, Iron Man,
The X-Men, Daredevil, Doctor Strange,
The Fantastic Four – and he
made an entire generation of dreamers
into True Believers…
I will always remember his smile,
his voice, his one of a kind mind,
his generous heart, his timeless ethos
that: “One person can make a difference” –
and there could never be enough said
about what he will always mean
to so many people all around the world…
and so, I say goodbye to the one and the only
Stan Lee by looking up to the sky
and reciting his life motto: Excelsior!



RIP Stan Lee
1922-2018

My Poem “Vicarious”

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

I love telling stories –
and I love hearing, reading,
and experiencing the stories of others…
when I was young I was a child
who used to be absolutely hypnotized
and captivated by whatever story
I was watching play out in front of me:
in books, on T.V., and at mandatory
family get-togethers…
I have always loved the gift and the ritual
of telling tales and learning something
I never knew before about something,
somewhere, or someone…
I was always that kid in the classroom
who was always staring out into space,
looking out of the window,
and dreaming about an adventure
to be had in a far away place…
however, as I grew older,
the more that I wanted to see of the world…
as I grew more inquisitive about the universe
the more that I wanted to go to all the places
that I had always yearned to see –
and as a child of amazing parents
I was given the opportunity to visit
kingdoms of magic, wonder, and infinite possibility…
but it was when I finally made it to New York City
that I realized I was truly living a dream
that I had had for as long I could remember,
when I saw playing out in front of me
lights, sounds, colours, and a spectrum of life
that was beyond imagination…
and that is why I feel very lucky
and incredibly fortunate to have been
where I have been, and to have seen what I have seen –
because I know that there are so many people
from all around the world
who have always dreamed about going
to where I have been and doing what I have done
but who for one reason or another
may never be able to –
and there are so many people from all around the world
who would give anything to take a leap across an ocean
and live their dreams, but who for the time being
have to settle for seeing, hearing, and experiencing
the world through the eyes, the ears,
and the senses of other people, vicariously.