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Best Poems Written by Mark Hurlin Shelton

Below are the all-time best Mark Hurlin Shelton poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Mark Hurlin Shelton is a Poet from Cape Town South Africa, born in October 1967. He was raised by his grandparents in Three Anchor Bay, near Sea Point, where he attended his first schools: Ellerton Primary and Sea Point Boys Primary. His childhood gave him a sad start,his parents separated before he turned four, his father died when he was five and a few months later his mother left town to seek acting work in Johannesburg,not returning for five years.Raised by his grandparents,his family were pretty dysfunctional and when he was twelve years old he went to stay at St Johns Hostel, a home for boys. After matriculating at Rosebank House College,,He studied for three years toward a BA Social Science degree, at the University of Cape Town, majoring in Philosophy, but did not complete it ,after an emotional break up with his first love,he suffered a breakdown and sought therapy, planning to resume his studies,but in the interim received an army call up--this he evaded by flying to Europe where he spent the better part of four years backpacking and working around Europe and the Middle East.,...In Europe he worked as a dishwasher, factory worker. movie extra, street busker, fruit-picker, flower bulb packager, care worker, and generaL labourer to help finance his travels through 23 countries. After returning to South Africa he embarked on a career as a Childrens Entertainer, which he has continued for more than two decades. When Mark was 29 years old he was diagnosed with untreated Adult Attention Deficit Disorder, something that is very real and causes a great deal of challenges and difficulties, but is also a blessing, since many people with ADhD are always trying new things and have quite exciting and adventurous albeit complicated lives. More recently Mark taught TEFL/TESOL English for a year in South East Asia. After getting in trouble for a visa overstay, Mark spent two months and twelve days in a Thai Detention Centre, before being flown home to South Africa. Mark is a survivor. In 2006, He was violently attacked in his home in an armed robbery in which he was stabbed with a pitchfork, which fortunately for him was far blunter than it looked...his attacker also attempted to throw battery acid at his face, this he protected with his arm, which was severely scarred, but completely saved his face. Mark does not consider himself a victim , but a survivor. Mark believes that despite his ordeals that God's hand has been on him and that Hehas a beautiful plan for Mark's life. Just in case the reader thought at any stage that life couldn't get more weird, crazy adventurous and wonderful, when Mark was forty-two years old while researching his grandmothers family tree, he discovered that he was actually Jewish. Life is funny wonderful, painful, beautiful, amazing and sad, a rollercoaster ride. Mark gives thanks to God and does his best to be positive and get on with it. For a living, for over two decades , Mark has been a children's entertainer by trade, a kid's comedian, smilemaker, juggler and balloon artist, a job that he loves that has brought him immense joy. As a poet Mark has been writing since his childhood and has written many hundreds of poems,as well as songs which he sings and plays on guitar. He loves travelling and has to date visited over 40 countries. His brain is always buzzing and busy with too many interests. He seldom ever feels bored. . In 1999 in Yeoville Johannesburg Mark met and became friends with the celebrated South African poet, Sinclair Beiles, who reviewed a selection of his poetry...Sinclair then wrote the following prologue for Mark"s poems...entitled "These Songs" .It reads as follows: THESE SONGS by Sinclair Beiles These are songs of wise observations Made in a spirit of innocence and love They are both for the old and the young For those who have poetry in their souls In these everyone can find the best moments of themselves. Signed: Sinclair Beiles ( Winner of the Ingrid Jonker memorial prize for poetry) Life is an unfinished business, a journey, not a destination, and its Mark"s dream to get his poetry published and recognised. He WILL.

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The Flying Fish

The Flying Fish.
by Mark Hurlin-Shelton
 Copyright 1988
 
It was late in the night 
and the ship's crew snored
When a rather strange creature landed aboard
I thought it the most extraordinary thing
For there lay before me
 a fish with wings
Well here is a question
 for wise men to solve
However did such
 a strange creature evolve
A creature that isn't contented to be
Like all of the others
 that swim in the sea
I wonder when was it
 that the first fish tried
to grow little wings
 and to swim in the sky
What do you think 
don't you think it absurd?
A fish with a wish to be a bird .

Details | Mark Hurlin Shelton Poem

Who Dropped the Love Bomb

WHO DROPPED THE LOVE BOMB?

Who dropped the love bomb?
   Yes, I confess
it was I-
       Who let it fall from the sky.

I flew over the battle-
    In my stealth peace jet-
And I dropped the love bomb
          I have no regret

Yes I dropped the Love Bomb-
     For this " crime" I must pay
For now all the people
        Are happy and gay

I dropped the love bomb
     From up above
And now the whole world
      Has fallen in Love

I dropped the Love bomb
     That I will never regret-
I dropped the Love bomb-
      That they'll never forget

Now In the aftermath of my responsible action
    The whole world is filled
        with peace- satisfaction

In the wake of the loving madness-
   Every soldier is filled
with goodwill and gladness
       And no-one gets killed

Happy people
    Without fears-
without care
    are scattered all about-
       everywhere

Mirth Is Strewn haphazardly
    about on the ground
There's no more despair-
       There's peace all around-

The Tanks and guns are abandoned and silent
    The Generals are doing a Salsa dance
No one is violent
         They've all decided to give peace a chance

I dropped the love bomb
    World leaders all
  insist I was wrong
        They can't let this state of affairs carry on

 Everybody's singing a cheesy love song-
      World leaders are making a tremendous fuss-
      They no longer have any control over us.-

I dropped the Love bomb
        It was on the TV News
   The governments and warmongers are devastated
          They're singing the blues-
     This peace will cost them zllions in revenues

They say unless
   hatred
is very soon reinstated.
    To a future of peace-
The world is now fated.

I dropped the Love Bomb
    It was my soul/sole decison
It hit its target with lively precision

The "victims" are still all hugging and kissing
    But The governments are still fuming and hissing-

The bankers are losing in revenues
     And peace is all you see on the TV news.

Yes-I dropped the love bomb.
    Yes I take all the blame-
It felt so good
     I want to do it again.

Details | Mark Hurlin Shelton Poem

For Dinna From Danmark

Dinna of Denmark
 you were my darling
Walking in your well worn sandals
Down the dirty Via Dolorosa

Clutching your stuffed Lion Toy
Swinging your bag
 brimful
 with secrets and sweets
Pencil crayons and poems
Fairy  stories  conjured
In your  secret language
 colourful lands steeped,
 In story-book wonder 

I marvelled  as I listened
And  you and I and crazy John of Jerusalem
who’d been there far  too long
would feed the cats by Jaffa gate

You  singing your song
through the ancient  streets
as you bartered for carefully chosen bananas

and at night on the pansiyon roof we dreamt
in our poorly erected tents
that fell down to reveal
the shepherds stars
that twinkling upon 
the ancient old-city rooftops

dear Dinna, lone little Girl-woman
emanating gentle  kindness
smiling in bright colours
with  warm words for  me

sorry I was such a  fool
about love and such
and you said you wanted somebody
certain and strong and I felt so foolish and jealous
of your dream of a wandering Indian Brave

but now I hope that in this or some parallel universe
you may find him, Dirty footed Dinna
with your stuffed Lion Toy

By the oasis of Ein Gedi in the hot dead sea  sun
You sang aloud as you washed your dress
Then laying it to dry on the hot rock
We splashed about and laughed

And refreshed in that cool pool where I imagine once even
old king Solomon perhaps
happily Sang in the sun and splashed someone he loved

and then we trudged down
and hitchhiked a truck as far as the bus-stop 
by the crossroad on Jericho road
and blew you kisses goodbye

Details | Mark Hurlin Shelton Poem

Manifesto

No stain no smudge no worldly wrong
Can silence the sound 
of children's song
No Power of money nor chains of might
Can hinder our journey into the light

What rulers power or Tyrants reproof
Can silence the voice that sings the Truth

For love is my Lord and light is my king
Eternal the one whose praise i sing
By whose authority and power
You cannot impede the growth of this flower

For that which is stained
This will remain Pure
And this  is the Spirit that will endure

Details | Mark Hurlin Shelton Poem

When Alteration Finds

This song of verse reminds
Will love still be love
Or will it alter when it
Alteration finds?

For should we not still be kind
When the light
 in the hearts of those we loved has dimmed?
Should we not be forgiving
And keep on giving
When those we  love  have sinned?

Let judgement be put a side
And mercy take its seat
Let us remember all that was innocent and good and sweet
And cherish it and love that  still
And find our peace
And restore good will.

For we are made of day and night
Of Rose petal  and thorn-
 of laughs and tears and sighs
Of the same stuff as the birds in flight
Our very  essence is  delight
Yet we all  are made
Of angel feathers  and devil horn alike
Of flesh and blood
 and priceless mud we're born
To know  both   failure and  ability
 not only strength
 but  exquisite fragility
Just like the wings of butterflies
Or Iike a  babies delicate skin
 but we must grow and change
To be utterly rearranged-
And changed within
And all who're born into this world
 Just like the silkworms
We must weave our thread
We must be transformed
To  discover  our wings- unfurled
And so every human child that's born
Into this brief interlude in eternity
Must play our part
 To  it's end in mortal finality
So far we shuffle then no more
For we all must pass through the same eternal door
And leave beyond 
all for whom we're fond
And embrace the great unknown beyond

For a while  those left behind must weep
It's not easy to sever such a bond
But we must let those departed sleep
For life goes on and we must sing its song

We need  a time to weep
And a time to  remember
But not too  long should we linger
For  after that we must all move on.......
Let go- and let death sleep.

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Oblivion

Nestled in that starless night
of emptiness that knew no bounds
aware of nought but my spirit's flight
in that void where no sounds
for there were none that could be heard
and none that could be made
no soul to speak a single word
for there were no words to be said
and not a thought to touch upon
there in that eternal night
and there no stars, no not one
and not a beam of light
for what was there, no not much
but emptiness to feel and touch
not even emptiness itself as such
there was not even up nor down
no left no right, there was no ground
to rest upon in that dark sky
had held me for eternity
within a womb of empty thought
and companions none, no there were nought
but I alone in this dark abyss
lay in a state of eternal bliss
far from the woes that now I know
for in that place twill not allow
any poisoned seed of pain to grow
but in that pleasant state I lay
in wait for all eternity
just as a seed that cannot die
that floats upon a boundless sky
where no celestial bodies fly
in orbital around the sun
for suns and stars no there were none
but there I lay in peace alone
alone with nothing to perceive
no thoughts and nothing to believe
yet I aware in this dark sea
one single thing , the pulse, the heart of me
I feel the beat, my steady breathing
a rising warmth within me seeming

No nothing but this certainty
i know no thing but know that I-
one splinter of eternity.

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Myrtle Street

Intact in my eye are a five year olds streets

I peeled oranges bored in Sunday School pews

Seldom a shoe on my naked free feet

hardly  my knees without a blue bruise


To the table clothed  mountain ,

overlooking our gang

Up to the clouds- our spirits flew

A carefree flock that rolled with the flood

Of playfulness- smiles and spirited song

Shopping mall mischief and water bomb balloons

A fun that fled away too soon



Yet the memory Is somehow still fresh in my blood

It is recalled as the taste of a favourite sweet-

Or the wide grinning faces a young boy knew

When he idled his summer on Myrtle Street

Best Poems Written by Mark Hurlin Shelton

Parts of Speech

Biography Mark Hurlin Shelton

The Flying Fish

Who Dropped the Love Bomb

For Dinna From Danmark

Manifesto

When Alteration Finds

Oblivion

Myrtle Street