Catching Moths and Butterflies Together!

His muscular moonlit body
Caresses her; warm, milky, skin.
Flex's taut - masculinity
Over; every pore therein.

For his embraces, she shivers
Pining's -searing for petals
Whose moth-winged, wing cudgels
Dare to break err the watery film.

Oh cocooned, delirium!
Where avalanches, crescendo…
'Join forces in a tandem.
Catching moths and butterflies
Together - Whatnot the day-glow
Forever'...

poem by Mark Heathcote
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They lay like plaited bread in love…

Kneading those white buttocks
Back and forth, in greedy palms
Stretching over doughy flesh
He then holds her warm breasts
There rising indicates
The ovens warmth is intensifying
Moister starts to perspire!
Drip by drip, down, plaited hair.
Seconds are vacating minutes.
Minutes untangling hours…
Legs are made jelly…
And empty of all desires 'ostrigidity'.
They lay like plaited bread in love.

poem by Mark Heathcote
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The Blackbird’s startled wing…

“Words come down, outer space
Mop my brow, dust these books
Upon the mantelpiece
Ignite the candle, long since
Flickered perpetual light
Before it’s time to say goodnight!
And, find my peace”.

“Words be bright, and be merry
As a church on Christmas Eve
Words sing, and sing!
Before all these shadows
Scurry off and flap away my soul
Unheard and underneath…
The Blackbird’s startled wing”.

poem by Mark Heathcote
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Any More Than The Moons Aglow

There are fairies in the light
In that glowing bulb so bright
Resin trunks - amber lockets
Wound-around a ring of spirits.

Who goes there… in the wilderness?
Shaking snow, laden with deftness.
Is she an angel—I don't know?
Any more than the moons aglow…

Who goes there… in the shadows?
Winking, when all I do is frown.
Oh there's a seraph in moonlight.
Owl-wing-flutters drown my soul tonight…

poem by Mark Heathcote
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Mountaineering Ramblers

As a rambling, mountaineer…
Cling's on too his loves brazier
Vertigo dizzies itself on a cleft:
With one more push, inward.

One more outward—swing,
Out in and in out, out and in,
His mountaineering fabric peaks.
Slips off; another layer…

Of sepal rose green petal skin.
Loves pistil, white and pure…
Here his carpel summit sits.
With; another mountaineer…
Oh so ridiculously, rosebud small.

poem by Mark Heathcote
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The bride

Hewn from the strata of galaxies demure!
Inured with witchcraft; heartbreakingly, pure.
The bride wears her wedding-dress like haute-couture
Dressed in her heavenly gown made by Channel or Dior!

Poised like a vision, sumptuously, dressed and veiled.
She; supernatural swan like sailed…
Stunningly, intoxicating; like a little creature divine!
She takes up her grooms arm whispers thou, shall be mine.

poem by Mark Heathcote
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Till the dawn-light; ember lilts

The eyes of dawn will make my bed
In the river of some dream,
Where half-forgotten limbs will rise
Like vapor's on the breeze;
But who will walk or lean on me
Lean against this idle frame?

Who will take my grey-goose quilt?
And wrap it around my arms
And say wake my love for I am here
For I am here to stir your lonesome heart
And warm your bones in winter's dark
Till the dawn-light; ember lilts.

poem by Mark Heathcote
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Follow my coat tails

A lonely star shone upon the moon
Her blank expression broke his gloom

Deeply wanton did his affections seek…
To enlighten her orbs that nightly did mystique

They glowed at night a vibrant ardour far
But by day did wisp away his soul ajar

Into distant aspects did he look and gaze
All he asked envisaged her was in her daze

Love is such said a passing comet sage
Follow my coat tails and be my page…

poem by Mark Heathcote
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But in the main

No two people are ever the same…
By day or by night!
Their tapers both fan the flame…
The joy of their light!

No two rivers run smooth or strait.
The valley is ever winding…
But their journey is still binding…
For their love too collate.

No two forests are ever the same…
One maybe a birch another willow
One maybe mountainous another hollow
...But in the main
No two people are ever the same.

poem by Mark Heathcote
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Mahjong

Each; flower must flower a flower.
Each; rock a stone a stone.
Each; necklace a link to one another
That none ever be alone.

Each rivulet wave moves forward.
Each Natterjack toad leaps…
Loudly headlong like some warlock wizard
Who for eternity creeps?

Questioning; where on earth do I belong.
Each star abode in space
Plays a game of Mahjong
Were all to collide we'd share the same birthplace.
O' for however long!

poem by Mark Heathcote
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