scott-hastie
London
Scott Hastie is a full-time Scottish born writer, based in the UK - he lives and works in tranquil surroundings in the English countryside, some twenty miles north of London. See www.scotthastie.com / / Primarily a poet, Ten of his books remain in print today - principally his two early signature volumes of poetry: 'Selected Poetry' & 'New Poetry', first published in the 1990's - together with showcases for newer equally distinctive work, such as the beautiful and soulful 'Meditations' first published in the Autumn of 2013. / / Scott's current poetry is very much a positive and sparkling affirmation of human potential, with a growing emphasis on spiritual awareness. Given the impact of this more recent output and its fast growing cross-cultural popularity around the world, a much more definitive and comprehensive hardback collection of all his latest work entitled 'Angel Voices' was soon brought forward for publication by Centuria in September 2014.
The day is done
And no one is immune,
It’s true.
That sense of a voyage
Slips seamlessly past,
For there is a finite beginning
And end to everything.
And yet a sense of connection,
A bejewelled purpose too,
Like the child
Whose way ahead
You’ve already lit,
Or the lover you’ve yet to meet.
Many such moments
Come and go, as they must,
Melting away
Into the space we are given.
But what endures for me
Is a persistent resonance,
Some heady wish
For access again
To a sense of wonder
In the stream of things,
That, this time round,
It might just be possible
To keep in my heart
A little longer.
So tarry with me awhile
And we will see
What we can do
To tenderly explore
Beneath the frail shell
Of all we’ve since become.
Trusting that, maybe within
Such smoothly sculpted casing,
And still delicately enclosed,
Might just lie the silky lustre
Of some lavish
And joyful communion,
Waiting for its chance
To grip and catch the light again.
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 5:44 PM UTC
Lost puppies
We are no longer,
That’s for sure…
Since all that’s been and gone
And the very essence of you,
Left behind in so many hearts,
Is never forgotten.
And, on a day such as this,
When your world is calm,
Full of warm smiles,
And your soul is at last
Let off its string,
One cannot help but sense,
For certain,
That all the love inside you
Comes from the best of those
You’ve known and loved
And those who came
And went before you too…
Sweet darlings! Sweet youth!
All our hope and dreams
Derive from just that.
So, show me the wonder
Of all you’ve seen so far,
Stretch the day to its limit,
And let us have no guilt
Left to waste for dreaming still.
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 5:42 PM UTC
Graced with the chance to be here,
Even if only fleetingly,
Embrace whatever comes your way
And, in so doing,
However enchanting
Any treasures you uncover
Might be,
Their loss should never be your concern.
In this matter
Make your heart your queen
And follow her as faithfully
And bravely as you are able,
Just as swelling fruit
Hurries towards its own sweetness,
Shine whilst you can,
Without fear,
For nothing is as inevitable
As it seems here.
No, not even the fissures
Of loss and decay
We are oft led to expect
In this temporal world.
For whilst we fuss and fudge
The lines we are given,
Above, below and all around us,
Lingers the energy of countless others
Who already know for sure
That, just as it was long, long ago,
When they first found themselves
Enraptured,
So it is for them, again and again…
And now with only a dark empty hollow,
A feeble space of earth left in between.
Such is true joy’s absolute certainty,
Its slow lit fuse that burns holes
In the shabby shroud of death forever.
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 5:38 PM UTC
Every new day our childrens' joy is as fresh as roses,
Even the birds chatter at dawn.
Tomorrow will be sharp and noisy,
Like the bright spotted splash of wild flowers
That freckle the shaded tawny look of ancient meadows.
How stubborn life is,
It clings like silver in our souls.
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 5:36 PM UTC
Splendour sleeps
In the thick still grey skies
Of a season's bleakness.
The steady muted glow of the sun,
Its sorry circle of gold
Highlighting the snow covered,
White-edged portrait
Of a winter's afternoon.
Inside the ashes of the fire
Burn red raw.
We talk
And your eyes dance
In patterns of pleasure before me.
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 5:36 PM UTC
To kiss the fruit
And caress the flower,
To taste without tarnishing
Humble nature's natural dower,
In this sweet pursuit
I shall place my frail body
Till death's timely hour,
And do so
With only breath remaining
To wish that
Amidst the winds of the world,
It will not shake nor cower
In the face of quiet eternity.
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 4:11 PM UTC
To dream as Picasso did.
To seize upon the astounding fact
Of being alive
And make it significant,
Over and over again.
To love and live like a demon,
Without any shame or inhibition,
Till you unlock the fiercest of truths
That, once ignited,
Cling to you like *** in the night,
Like ******
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 4:11 PM UTC
To seek solace as they did.
To draw strength from the natural world,
Only for it to tighten its remorseless grip,
Till it brings you face to face
With elementary truths
That spear your insignificance
And stake it to the ground without pity,
Like a trophy,
Like the bloodied innards
Of a wounded animal,
Caught in the final dazzle of despair.
I can imagine that,
Before she left him,
They might have often sat indoors,
Hidden away from the awful truths
They had uncovered,
Watching the heat from the fire,
Cast in germ-like shadows,
Rise slowly up the wall.
All too aware
That their time together was now melting away.
Two souls emptied, hollowed out,
By the risks taken in pursuit of meaning.
And, at the window,
Diamond truth.
The hawk's eye
That mocked them without mercy
And harried them, desolate, to their graves.
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 4:02 PM UTC
Life collects, pools around you.
It paints its highlights,
Nothing there you can destroy
Or begin again.
Calm in aquamarine beauty,
Barely a hint of surf's snowy trim.
Today the sea is out
But will come again.
For the moment,
On the beach,
My love and I,
Naked and blissful as can be.
In the soft, sun baked sand
History between my toes.
Sense how
Even the smooth stones ache
With stories of their own
In the shuddering light of day.
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 4:01 PM UTC
Whatever joys come our way,
The road ahead will be a hard one.
Your kinship though is precious,
Like sweet molasses,
Fuel for my journey.
Sometimes returning,
Battered and bruised I admit,
My basket full of
Fresh hewn promises,
Chiselled out and polished in hope.
And with all my dreams too
Of what could come true,
Of what my labours long to proffer you.
You know I give you my love, as best I can.
Together we live to the point of tears,
I wouldn't want it any other way.
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 4:00 PM UTC