Mark Hastings

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Hi there! I’m Mark Hastings! I’m afraid I am not someone who plays an instrument, or sings; however, what I am, what I love, and what I one day hope to be, is a poet and dreamer who can move the world with his poetry. I haven’t always been a poet, and while growing up I was not much of a writer; however, I was always a boy that saw the world to be that much brighter; I always looked upon friends more optimistically than they saw themselves; and when I dreamed I dreamed of starships, far-off worlds, and elves; I watched TV, listened to music, and read the great works of the best- Star Trek, John Lennon, Shakespeare, Tolkien- with enraptured interest. While growing up I loved to draw, paint, and I loved to use vibrant colours; I loved works of art that resonanted and harmonized with what naturally occurs; however, when it came to rhymes, poets, poems, and poetry, I always fell-short- I suppose, in retropsect, it was a fear of misunderstanding that I could not thwart. However, cometh the muse, cometh the inspiration, cometh the poetry, cometh the poet- and when you are blessed with a such a gift you never fail to feel, love, and know it.

Check out my poetry blog 'Poeta universalis' on Wordpress; follow me on Twitter; Like me on Facebook; watch and listen to me on You Tube and Vimeo:

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My Poem: ‘Magician in the Snow’

A seemingly unremarkable man of average height,
stands alone in the street,
slowly being turned into a living snowman,
as the snow falls and covers him in a coat of white.
Strangers trudge through the near foot-deep snow,
slowly passing him by without even a blink of an eye;
children have snowball fights around him,
while the snow-covered man just stands there in his place
looking up at the sky.
The stars cannot be seen,
a grey cloak of clouds has obscured them;
but the mysterious mans eyes make up for the lack of constellations,
as they shine in the moonlight like never before,
and like they will continue to shine again and again.
He knows a thousand magic tricks,
but on this snowy night the only thing that this magician knows
is that, in the now silent, cold, beautiful, open-air,
the magic of the world is present in every snowflake when it snows.

In a blink of an eye, the magician is now 9 years old-
standing in the snow of a glorious white night,
holding a book of magic tricks in his gloved hands,
and wearing a scarf that reaches down to his ankles,
to protect him from the cold.

As the magician closes his eyes,
he imagines above his head that the clouds have disappeared
and that the light of the galaxy can now be reflected on the snow floor-
to his knowledge, he has yet to learn the spell that can control the weather;
but he is willing to give the thought that he can, his all.

When the magician opens his eyes,
the frozen moon above his head seems to glow much brighter,
and appears to have grown larger, whiter,
as if it almost fills the sky-
a sky that was once filled with falling snow, and bereft of stars,
is now still, perfect, and beautiful,
the magician could almost cry.
Stars sparkle like fixed snow flakes in the clear night sky,
all is white, all is peaceful, as the winter wind continues to blow.
A billion wonderful things happened today,
and one person feels and knows that more than most-
a man who sometimes thinks of himself as a ghost,
but who is right now, and forever,
a magician in the snow.

(Source: poetofthesphere.com)

  1. markhastings posted this