Mark Heathcote Poems

Sun then rain, day after day
It's a parade never outstayed
It's welcome, but oh I say
With sorrows, it must be said.
...

Egyptian hands elongated with a gypsy's soul.
A Pharaoh who's ivory nape is pale slender
On it's shouldered, Nefertiti's thrown.
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Day, I leave this world to dust.
Another shall return as promised:
if you don't believe a bird can fly,
then why hold it caged till it dies.
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It takes artists to recognise art. And the greatest artists
To recognise that art performs as if it were the artist's breath.
Isn't creation the poet? Ask the waterfall to stop singing.
Or for the moon and the stars of the world to stop spinning,
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When I relinquished myself,
I gave up, all my own, soul.
I sank deeply, into yourself,
Ice-frozen, I couldn't escape.
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Divine Mother, on your tiger, fortifies my heart.
Slay demons of ego with your ten arms thwart.
Let your left eye control my greatest weakness-
Desire the right spur me on to righteousness.
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He's in my face
like some double-base
Harpooned-cupid of the human race
Oh, how I'm now sighing too,
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Our temptations are subject to galloping.
This heart pitter-patters like a toy tin-car
roaring ready to go, without any damning,
right or wrong prepared for exemplar-
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Babbling sounds made by babies and parents.
Are words that teach our infants so much more?
Developing sounds and, yes, a few grunts
helps baby learn and roar like a brontosaur.
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Love is a thankless-task
love is giving
love is receiving, whatever comes to pass?
Love is acceptance
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