We are the all...
Mystical and magical all are the same
Without doubt none singular is to blame?
Except all meaning and question your finds
For all opposites in all climbs, chime?
Truth is a chemist, who doctors all
Simply put we are the immeasurable.
We are the all...
Whatever the size large or small
We are the all...
At transgressions fall...?
poem by Mark Heathcote
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A poetic exile
What is there to berate
Life—for: Why equate
It has not any meaning..?
Every sap that's shelled-out
The husk, longs further, seeding.
"Every breath a water-spout
Leaps into death, pupate.
And is yet, still, dreaming...
Of the wings of perfection",
Too fulfil life's passion.
The gift of love's pre-emption...
poem by Mark Heathcote
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My last bone
I have welcomed death, his gaze
his thoughts, his valentines day kiss
his black tulips pressed against
my blood filled lustful lips
Death is not my foe, we are bed fellows
toe to toe, I am the prairie
he is a prairie dog, loyal and honest
when I am lost; he leads me home
But with wagging tail I'll savour
and unearth my last bone!
poem by Mark Heathcote
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Teachers pet…?
Love is a freelance writer
If you want my real answer
Please don't take dictation
This is only an aural examination.
Students aren't they impertinent.
"Oh how I long for the moment"
Just to teach them the rudimentary,
Facts: behind this supplementary.
Extra curriculum those abstracts
Cogent analysis it just all subtracts.
poem by Mark Heathcote
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A Lover's Vow To Spring
Love, there's an ancient quarry where bluebells grow
Like sapphires in the melting snow
Like quartz-clocks they tell the time is spring
If ‘ere you'd listen, you might just here them ring
Like a mountain Elysian blue spring,
Oh darling do you hear an after-ring!
And if so take mine own!
For now I've loved all summers are postpone.
poem by Mark Heathcote
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The tender thump of wings
Little bug, little bug
Get out of bed,
Go bother the neighbours
And make that bed.
Little bug, little bug
Rest your head,
And count those blessings
That you're not dead!
Little bug, little bug
Has gone to the moon
When he comes home
He can tidy his room.
Little bug, little bug
All curled up and blue
When he questions,
What to do.
poem by Mark Heathcote
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Sea of empty space..?
Tonight I saw an ocean
Passing beneath the moon
In zig zag slow motion
Then a whale was strewn..?
Coup de grâce
Sea of empty space..?
The moon was gone!
Like a white chess pawn.
Like bread a carp swallows
And then it just wallows
Dimly into the night
Into those disk waves so trite.
Coup de grâce
Sea of empty space..?
poem by Mark Heathcote
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Your Love Is Like A Pinnacle
Your love is like a pinnacle
No man could ever climb
But your heart belongs with mine
Flowing deeper all the time
Deeper than the rivers
Running home to the sea
Deeper than an apple core
That love you've given to me.
Like honey on my tongue,
Like nectar to a bee,
Like incense from a flower
That love you've given to me
Will always, be.
poem by Mark Heathcote
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In The Froth Of Life
It's here a dandelion clock
Is nodding in the froth of life,
It's here…
A meadow overwhelms us:
And all our early seven-senses
It's here a yellow rose is growing
Its first buds amongst a iron fist.
It's here our ankles weigh heavy,
Trembling like two ship anchors,
Docked in a harbor;
Leaving, two ports of call with a siren kiss.
poem by Mark Heathcote
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Through all our unending time
For however many tears
We’ve both tried not to cry
For however many years
I’ve lived trying not to die
Praying, wanting, not to lie
Yearning, endlessly, longing,
Through all our unending time
I’ve never really; learned!
I’ve never really; yearned!
To look closely into... your eyes
To tell you; goodbye!
poem by Mark Heathcote
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