writing

My Poem ‘Fever’

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

There are places in space,
there are moments in time,
there are faces, there are rhymes,
there are things that happen,
there are people who are who they are,
there are things that draw your attention,
there are an infinite number of multi-coloured stars
that brighten, enliven, and make your life feel
as if it is complete,
there are links that form
that give strength to weak.

Some may look at the landscape of a war-zone
and see desolation and a reason to doubt
the longevity of life on our planet,
while another person looking at the same sight
may see it as an opportunity to rebuild
and to reinvigorate, and to heal old wounds
and to put long-lasting hope into the mortar
and the stone of the newly relaid foundations
and draw lines of inter-connectivity
into the very blueprints of what is being rebuilt.

Anything can happen at any moment;
anybody can imagine anything
when their senses are brought to life,
like a spark to a fire;
even a single word can have lasting importance;
even a single glance and a look
can quickly evolve into desire.

A flash of light and colour;
the touch on your skin of a gust of wind;
the sound of a voice that always pulls you into
a magical world of wonder;
the feeling of euphoria that true love brings;
the way that things are,
the way that the many faces of the universe inter-work,
the way that even the smallest of actions
can have the most life-changing of powers,
is what will always be as things are forever –
and that is why it is always important
to cherish, to take care, and to kindle an idea,
because it does not take much in the right hands
for a single thought and dream
to take over and spread like a fever.

My Poem ‘Eccentric’

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

Everybody has their own quirks of personality;
everybody has something about them
that wonderfully singles them out;
everybody has the rite
to wear the crown of their own reality;
everybody is like the weather of the world –
depending on the temperature,
depending on the colour,
depending on the time of the day, or the year,
the forces of nature
and the thoughts of everybody close by
can combine to reveal wonderful
and phenomenal personal eccentricities.

I love the eccentric;
I adore the quirky;
I love the one of a kind
that are poetic and epic;
I adore the thrill of discovering a new find;
I love the unconventional;
I adore the extraordinary;
I love the language of the true individual;
I adore an oddity.

Everybody in the world is sometimes obsessive;
everybody on the planet is sometimes compulsive;
everybody has their own version
and vision of perfection;
everybody knows how to bring an oasis of peace
to a tumultuous storm of disorder.

Life is an infinite spectrum;
free-spirited and care-free people
are a bubbling cocktail
of many infusions of taste and inspiration –
like a mirror of life
reflecting the world back on itself;
life is a never-ending exploration;
the more natural that something feels
can only be something that is good for your health.

Some people thrive when in the spotlight;
some people would rather live in the shade;
some people are secret masters of life;
some people just want to heal the world
one person at a time –
even if the only thing that they can offer
is a smile to anyone and everyone
who needs one every single day.

There are some people
who like formality and predictability,
over improbability;
there are some people who act with serenity
when everybody else may have already descended
into a state of unbridled panic;
there are some people
who will never change who they are,
who will be amazing in more ways
than they will ever know,
always and indefinitely;
there are some people who are magnetic,
energetic, synergetic, kinetic, poetic,
who are in their own way prophetic –
because they are so wonderfully eccentric.

My Poem ‘Many voices inside the one’

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

Daylight is a flash of many colours;
day life is a mass of many choices;
just as a skyscraper
is a single building of many floors,
the light and the dark of the world
can only stay in balance with one another
if there is always a way and a forum
to speak, to sing, and to shout
with the tongue of many voices.

People learn more in the years
that they are a child
than they will ever learn
in the subsequent decades
that they are alive;
a child could literally grow up
to be anybody that they want;
someone who feels inspiration,
as well as sees inspiration,
in themselves and of themselves,
will be an inspiring bright light;
do not ever believe anyone
who tells you that lightning
cannot strike twice;
the people who truly lead the dance of life
do not always do so front the front.

A building must be built;
a person must grow;
every sword must have a hilt;
there must always be something
that you do not know;
a painting must be painted;
a movie must be written, acted,
filmed, edited, orchestrated, and directed;
music must be a conduit of many hearts;
to be funny, a joke –
no matter how many times it is told –
must always be one that makes everybody laugh.

Nobody can ever choose where,
nor to whom, they are born to –
however, if the history of humanity
can teach is anything
it is that birthplace and parentage
are the place, and they are the people,
from where our lives begin,
but they will never be,
nor should they ever be,
where or why our lives come to an end;
throughout our lives,
the voice that we talk and communicate with
changes depending on our ever-changing environment –
like the skin of a chameleon;
we are all somebody of many voices,
not just the one.

My Poem ‘The Writer Type’

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

I can always tell
another writer when I see them;
I can always tell poetry
whenever I read something
that someone has written;
I can always tell another poet
when I hear them speak
with so much passion,
energy, and depth of intuition
in their voice;
I can always tell
and I always know
when a writer has an idea
for something to write in some form,
because I have that feeling
multiple times a day –
and when you feel that need to write rise,
as a writer, you just know in yourself
that what is on your mind
needs to flow unabated
as a matter of necessity and destiny,
and not always as a matter of choice.

I have a sixth sense for creative people;
I have an instinct for the inspired;
I have been a member of the church of poetry
for years now, and I am its life-long disciple;
I have the greatest adoration for people
who can change the world with the power of words,
and to whom their love of language
is one of the greatest of all their desires.

I could sit with my notebook
at a table in Starbucks,
I could lay on my bed looking out the window,
I could sit on a bench in the park,
I could sit under the moonlight in the dark,
and be absolutely captivated and lost
in thought by the most incredible
and the most inspiring creation of my imagination –
as I try to interpret, convey, and convert
my thoughts into words
that perfectly capture
the constellations of my universe
into understandable verse.

When I write, it is a stream of consciousness;
when I daydream, there is never
any limit to what I can imagine;
when the rhythm of my soul takes me
and I give birth to a newborn of my own poetry,
I love the experience so much;
when the artistic animal
catches me its sights and its embrace,
there is nowhere to run…
which to me is my kind of fun!

I can always tell someone
who has seen the artistic light;
I can always understand
when someone says out-loud
that they do not know
why they are doing what they are doing –
however, in more ways than they can describe,
they just know that what they are doing
just feels right;
I can always follow the thoughts
and the emotions of someone,
and I love sharing my own
as I too spread my poetic wings and take flight;
I can always tell ‘the writer type’.

My Poem ‘The Outer Limits’

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

Ever since the first astronomers of Earth
looked up at the sky to the stars and the planets,
humanity has been asking questions of themselves
about their relevance and about just how rare
and important they are within the universe;
humanity has been searching the galaxy and beyond
for a signal from another galactic inhabitant,
and even to this day there are those
who openly proclaim that because we have not yet
made contact with another form of intelligent life
in the Milky Way that we are the superior species
to be found anywhere, and that Earth is and could only be
the only inhabited world.
When I look above, I can almost hear the call
of a fellow interstellar searcher
and the beating heart of a fellow poet of the stars
being inspired by their muse
and taken away in mind, spirit, and soul,
to their imagination outer-limit.

We here on Earth know only too well
that feeling of awe and intrigue
that we feel when we see photographs
being returned to Earth from man-made probes
of distant worlds – that we have all known about
and heard about, but which have never been seen before;
we all experience sheer breathtaking amazement
whenever something happens above us and around us
that may only happen once in a lifetime;
when we watch a rocket launch,
or when we witness the first footsteps
and impressions made by someone or something
on an unknown and undiscovered brand new land,
we all return to the memory of when we were a child
making an airplane out of folded paper
and watching it be carried on the wind, and sour;
we, I, always go ten steps beyond
when the thought of what and who could be out there,
in the dark, on their own planet, imagining us,
as we imagine them, and what just the knowledge
of each others’ existence would mean
and would do to the thoughts
and to the dreams of the others’ mind.

Every form of life is special and unique;
every planet orbiting around every star
is like the integral and unmissable
musical notes of a galactic symphony
that have their own vibration and sound to them,
that when heard playing with the rest
of the interstellar musical instruments and keys,
as well as on their own, sound nothing short of perfect;
everything that happens in space
is always a spectacle to us all here on Earth,
even if it is the sight of a fly-by by a passing comet.

Being a poet, I naturally look at life
and the universe slightly differently
to how someone else might see it –
however, I believe that everyone can see
inspiring wonders and they can be inspired
to take a trip of discovery
into an exciting new frontier,
and explore the amazing mysteries and questions
that drive us all when and if
we choose to step into the realm
of the outer limits.

My Poem ‘The White Rabbit’

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

I sometimes feel like
I am akin to the white rabbit of Wonderland;
I almost always find myself late,
because even in my mind
I am always rushing off to somewhere;
I sometimes feel like I am in an hour-glass
being slowly rained on by a constant dusting
of falling grains of sand;
I sometimes struggle to know
when to go and when to stop and wait;
as I watch time tick by,
like the hands of a clock,
I am very rarely seen standing still –
when I am writing,
when I am talking,
when I am thinking,
are the most likely of times
that you will ever see me motionless,
and even then, my muscles are on the move –
in some way, shape, or form –
and, to be honest, for me to be in any way
like a statue I would have to be ill.

Some things do take time
to fully come to fruition;
some things can happen
and must only happen in the moment;
some things that are what they are
are driven by emotion;
some things are so important to us
their effect on us is incredibly potent.

I have learned over time
that you have to follow your heart;
I have always looked for the rabbit hole
to the unknown, and ran down it at full-speed
without any thought of stopping myself, or looking back;
I have always been enamored by every sentence
that I have read that has ever ended
with a question mark;
I have always considered every opportunity
as if it were a doorway to somewhere
that is so full of inspiration and wonder
it would and will always be impossible
to ever pin-point the location
of everything there on any kind of map.

I have always believed
that there is no such thing as coincidence;
I have proof that every thing
and every person comes into your life
and is a part of your life for a reason;
I have vowed to myself to never stop
doing what I do, and to will keep going –
to keep walking through every open door,
and to keep jumping over every fence;
I have watched people leave others behind
when they feel like they have to
if they want to have the thing that they most desire –
I, however, do not give up on people
or on anything that matters to me lightly,
and if I could I would be there
when and where I am wanted and needed
for those who need me
through all the colours and shades of every season.

Anything can last forever,
if you don’t give up on it
and if you don’t forget it;
while you are looking around
and taking in life and your surroundings,
try to see the signs that you should follow,
if you want to experience
your eyes being opened wide
by a thought as amazing
and as dazzling as a bright light;
the things that may happen to you
if you choose to sometimes not worry
about all the things that could happen,
and if you learn to grasp the secret of everything:
that everything happens all at once,
and that the past, the present,
and the future are all one and the same –
and, if and when you do, that is when life
will feel even more beautiful and epic…
so, make sure you look around from time to time –
so that you may see, and perhaps choose to follow,
you own personal, life-defining and enlightening,
white rabbit.

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 ‘Dreamcatcher’

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

Have you ever awoken in a dream one night,
only later to discover that the dream
that you had awoken from
was really a dream that you were dreaming
in a dream that you were having?
And really you have been asleep the entire time?
And at the moment that you wake up,
the day has already begun,
and you have no idea of what happened,
nor where you have been –
but you feel like you have emerged
and taken a deep breath
after coming to the surface of a vast ocean?

Some of our memories
can be like sandcastles on a beach;
some of our defining thoughts
can be like landmarks;
some of our experiences
can be like mountains that we climb,
and return from, that cannot be attained
nor ever topped again,
and for the rest of our lives
they may feel out of reach;
some of our happiest and joyous moments
can be like a shield and a defense
than can silently protect us from harm.

Dreams can be shared;
dreams can be a legacy;
dreams can be lived in the real world,
as well as while lying in bed;
dreams have a meaning and a language to them
and within them that not that many people
through history have ever been able to interpret
and understand fully –
because no matter how much a dream
can seem to make sense
during and after you are dreaming,
and have dreamed it,
that same dream, and every dream,
continues to live, play out,
and inform your world subtly and incredibly.

When we dream we see with different eyes;
when we do something or go somewhere
in a dream it can be both an echo, and also a prelude;
when we feel something in a dream
we are trying to tell ourselves
that our heart and our feelings
are more sensitive than we may sometimes realize;
when the cover of slumber pulls us under
and we fall under the spell of our own imagination,
we have no control of where we will go,
or what, or whom, will come to us –
and that is why sometimes our dreams
can feel like we have been dreaming for days and nights,
and some dreams can feel like
they should have gone on longer
because they were over too soon.

Our dream-selves can sometimes seem
to be having all the fun that we wish
when we are awake we could have;
our dreams keep imagining every kind of possibility –
which is why they matter;
our dream identities can be triggered
at any time of the day,
even when we are taking a long hot bath;
our dreams can be so amazing
and so fantastic, sometimes,
that they simply need to endure
and never be forgotten –
and that is why, over the centuries,
people have sought to preserve
and keep alive the dreams
that are meant to create ripple-effects
in the underlying life-connecting
consciousness of the world:
by turning them into tales, legends, stories,
and retelling them over and over again –
and the best way of allowing a dream to never die
is to seek out a kindred spirit
and to harness the amazing power of a dreamcatcher.

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My Poem ‘Imagine like Lennon’

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

Dreamers never stop dreaming,
dreamers take great comfort
and they feel great joy
in the knowledge
that they are not the only ones;
imagineers never stop imagining,
and because their thoughts,
dreams, and hopes never stop coming
and flowing, miraculous new discoveries
and ideas come to light
and are allowed to shine
all over the world on the eyes
and from the hearts of countless people,
as if they were new born stars and suns.

An artist in an artist from birth;
a storyteller is a reader of other stories
by other writers, who has always felt
compelled to create stories of their own
and take people on a journey;
many artists have sought inspiration from above,
like the first drop of rain
that began all the oceans of Earth;
to be who you are meant to be in all walks of life,
and in all stages of creativity and evolution,
everybody must be able to just be.

There is a moment, there is a spark,
there is a light, that brightens the dark,
there is an instant of change,
there is a time to step back
and rethink and reinvent,
there is sometimes one perfect expression
that is beyond any and all words
that could ever fill a single page;
there must be a world within you
where you can go to that is even more
limitless and boundless than the universe,
where your inner identity can run free;
there must be an outlet for you to do what you know;
there is always someone who has a great many things
in common with you, in any and every direction
to every degree;
there is always a side to you
that you cannot completely show.

Being a poet is like being a player
of an imaginary instrument
that only you have the knowledge
and the gift to be able to play
as exquisitely as it can possibly be played;
musicians of physical instruments
are able to play their music
and give rise to vibrations
that literally can touch and speak
to the blood, the heart-beats,
and the very core and source of who someone is;
if some things were tangible,
instead of being unbelievably fragile,
and if not everything that meant the most
was not sometimes a struggle,
then there would always be something missing –
however, that is often the case
when choosing a course that is the most
untroublesome and easy;
to dare to dream is to take a chance on a risk.

Heroes are important;
music is a miracle;
every experience is a lesson;
you cannot always have, or get, what you want;
life is too phenomenal to shut yourself away from it –
to enjoy living to the fullest is essential;
greatness cannot be attained alone,
nor can you know or call yourself great –
those who truly know us are the only ones
who can describe us and tell us who we are;
to me, music is where inspiration lives
how we are all supposed to live;
to me, music is heaven, and anyone and everyone
who can feel the meaning of music
deep inside them knows how life-changing
and world-changing it is in all its infinite forms;
and that is why music is so important to me –
because it inspires me to dream like Dylan,
to think like Einstein,
and to imagine like Lennon.

My Poem ‘Onomatopoeia’

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

How does a ‘thing’
become a ‘something’?
When does a piece of art
come to life?
How does a person
become a someone?
When do words of a song
naturally find their own voice, and sing?
Could, and should, a child have a name
before its face first feels
the warmth of the sunlight?
Is a word and a name given to something
and someone accidental?
Or, perhaps, is a name
part of a more interconnected and greater plan?

A word can have many meanings
in different languages;
a name can symbolize and capture
the character and the disposition of someone
miraculously, and each person with the same name
can share things in common;
a word can have many different faces;
a name can be very important
and influential in the life of someone.

Some names are past down through families
and through traditions,
and they are in themselves ‘calling cards’
and snap-shots that tell a long story;
place names carry the history
and the original intent of the place in question
long after that same place has become
a place of so much more;
surnames and family names have evolved
from the profession and the job
that someone was known for,
to a connection of lineage and bloodline,
and is now a means for people
to trace their families’ origins
and reveal traces of hidden memory;
just as everything has a reason for being,
so does the choice of a name
have a reason and a meaning
running throughout a thing
or a person’s life
that was there before someone was even born.

Names have always fascinated me;
the why of a word and where it comes from
has always taken me on an exciting
and an inspiring journey;
the power of a word
and the significance of a name
is something that you can see,
use, and understand
if you use words in your life,
and if you see particular words
as a form of magic:
and there is no one who knows
how to use words in the way
that they are intended to be used
more than a magician –
and a magician will tell you
that the power of incantation and suggestion
has a fascination to it
that is too hypnotic to explain.
If I could be anyone,
if I could create a role for myself,
I would be someone who has the gift,
the privilege, and the power
to be able to give a person, or a thing,
its identity based on who, or what,
I see before me when I look at them –
it would be unlike anything else
to be the ‘coiner of a name’.

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