Rye Fields & Snowdrifts
She has all the whispers of a morning,
Clothed in fog; wet with drenching's of fallen dew.
Whilst my perspiring body lisp's on a gallows tree
Sometimes-above sometimes-below she…
I am her Eden's fantasy she says—O' I'll probe!
I'll bite! When; rye fields glow all around me.
When; apple blossom orchards,
Descend like snowdrifts, deeply to enfold me.
In his arms in his rye fields and snowdrifts,
There surely you'll also, find me!
Cold to all other suitors, now till eternity.
poem by Mark Heathcote
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The Madness Of The Bee
Curvaceous; white rose
How—potently, aromatic
It is to delve quite freely
One's passionate, nose
Tasting; upon our tongues
The madness of the bee…
Who' sumptuously,
All summer, long…
Dances with; thee.
With honey honed senses
Sweet harlot of the brier
Shudder not in my pretenses
But hold fast as I acquire…
Just one single, kiss…
Honey comb, upon my lips.
Arms wrapped around your bodice
Trembling; without remiss...
Till the sun and moon, ellipse.
[...] Read more
poem by Mark Heathcote
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A Backwards Look In The Mirror
I've seen those eyes before like pack-ice
Residuary-melting, scraped off the floor
Beats me how, an addict beats the count
And rises; from the canvas once more.
I've seen the glue-sniffers dazed, erect
Wall-flowers with those same said eyes
That says nobody even cares for me.
'Now that loves taken its leave I devise.
To drink, listen to the clink, clink—clink
Of ice till I'm once again, ready to rise'.
Gaze …eons into the future and bethink.
The love of a woman will be my prize.
poem by Mark Heathcote
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The jarring of a midnight's dew
What permanent vanquished beauty
What tyrannical sea of change
Transmutes and transmogrifies
All that is indigenous to atoms
Rock, iron, wood, salt, root,
Bone and flesh..?
What increments roost in you,
In us..? in this archaic, masquerade
What sagacity, what foresight
Inches us forwards singular
Into an esoteric silhouette
What everlasting beauty
Imbibes through you! so you, too
Can be tantalized and bid within,
The jarring of a midnight's dew
Enchantments, repository.
poem by Mark Heathcote
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Another valentine!
Another day of roses and wine
and you will always be mine.
O valentine there’s more to this
than just another passionate kiss
there’s a lifetimes worth of promise.
There’s that cherished smile
that loving embrace we merit awhile
Spooned together so lovingly tactile.
There’s that language between us two
that no other will ever undo…
Two hearts remaining forever true
Darling that’s how I feel about you.
Love is a moment’s word in passing...
To be in love with you is everlasting
poem by Mark Heathcote
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Dot To Dot
Starting from the bottom to the top
Filling in the gaps from the bottom
To the top - dot to dot
If love could make the penny drop!
If I could feel dilemmas alarm-
Stop! For a second - but it
Hallmarks a churlish picture—
Hands groping with hearts radar
Hanging on three words aplomb!
Resting in the silence,
Like an unexploded bomb.
Starting from the bottom to the top
Filling in the gaps from the bottom
To the top - dot to dot - sex without love.
It's just a fraying lover's love knot.
poem by Mark Heathcote
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Over new; greens seas drip-fed
The poet is a lonely … (snail)
With elongated eyes espy.
Following a spiritual brail…
Questioning: what's a wry?
What; lucidity nears him by.
A non-apologetic; dreamer…
To him its do-or-die
With a silver trailing "stigma"
Over the high seas did Bligh.
Oh mutiny; he's not a rhymer…
{With a pirate, treasure scroll...}
With a bounty on his head:
His mutiny is that his soul—
And others might—never be fed.
By following him on… faith!
Over new; green seas drip-fed.
poem by Mark Heathcote
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Did It Prevent Your Sun Kissed Dreams?
Father that sundial, is it death…
Is it Father - the hand of death?
Is it the sword that cuts short a bird's flight?
'Child, we're all adjacent, the window of life.
The window of light…'
O' Father is it a guillotine!
Does it covert our breath…
O' Father how, much, time
Do we have? Left…
'Child, we're all adjacent, the window of life.
Until the bird in your soul, takes flight'.
'Child, a question - answer your father this.
Did it prevent your sun kissed dreams? Last night.'
poem by Mark Heathcote
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Prison bars
What can a prisoner say?
To bars he cannot escape.
I love you; but farewell,
I love you; but permit me, some leave!
Within his heart, yet, remains a serpent.
An unwelcome visitor sounds a hiss…
But unlike a stray-dog, he'll not bark nor
Snake through the undergrowth an adder?
So then Lord what is a key without a lock?
Or a jail without four walls…
Who turns the key to a door, without-walls?
To a door that's got no hinge.
No ceiling or heavenly vault
No floor or a cellar-basement.
poem by Mark Heathcote
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Seasonal affective disorder (SAD)
So seasonal ills lull my every mood
Ice flows inward outward my thinking
Never does the spring thaw lessen its rude
Hold on my life; each day begs questioning.
How my overly anxious brain still ploughs on...
Spirit frozen stiff and September
Four decays darker now just begun.
My emotions amplify the dread December.
The 16th leading cause of death in females
Pulling at the fabric of my mind is death
By suicide the eighth cause of death in males
The winter-onset a stage for Macbeth!
poem by Mark Heathcote
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