Mark Heathcote Poems

A punctuation mark… Molten in wax
A shimmering flirtation within the night!
A 'dog's cock 'a flower like Devils Flax
With its yellow and orange tongue—alight!
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A tenant is he, the would-be bee
To husband a flower.
That wishes not, her ambles free
In fear of the seed-plougher
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Love bends over a yellow stalk of wheat,
hope shields these grains her seed sowed, eyes
corn poppies pearl-black, the inset stars discreet,
worm-eaten flowers caste up a moment's prize.
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Ghosts come in the shape of the living
I've seen both
but guess what?
It's frightening how alive
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What-would-this-life-be-like
Without a holiday festival, without a party,
Without a little bit of faith and healing
If we all feared living our lives
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Where can we break eggshells?
And meet as lovers.
When can two lovers kiss and tell?
Their heart's content to one another.
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If love was a pocket-watch
I'd never wind the dial
Because time is a fickle friend
That only lasts a while.
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When I breathe in
you sigh
for me, for you
for you, for me.
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When the evening light fades
through its lineage of blue
I hear an angel singing
and I swear it must be you
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Love is a freelance writer
If you want my real answer
Please don't take dictation
This is only an oral examination.
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