A Beggar's Bowl Bonanza Poem by Mark Heathcote

This life has a victim and a killer
This life has a preacher and a sinner
This life has a poem a four-line stanza
This life has a beggar's bowl bonanza
That can either really cleanse you
Or poison your soul.

This life has a dark angel
And a desolate windmill
Where you both have ground
Both day and night!
At opposite ends of the stratosphere
To join wings, in a moment of flight.

This life has a woman giving birth
Claiming this divinity of life is a living hell
Whilst the father beams ear-to-ear
Holding a stranger near
Who is now dearer than her?
…As if that could ever be.

This life is like a cheap bottle of wine
You want to make ambrosia.
Your very own Nirvana in rapture
But this life has you in mild despair maligned
I swear I swear, I swear, this life
It'll have you going mad I do declare.

But this life has the bare bones
Of a mercurial magic; I swear
I do swear, I swear
When you find a young woman
And like a highwayman, you have your way
With her jewels, when she offers her heart the very next day.