M. A Heathcote

M. A Heathcote Poems

When I see the green and red
Of the furnace flames aglow,
And a white dove is rising in the skies.
And those sleek, slender, starving Black-
...

The workings of a clock
It can be as mechanical as a stopped heart.
A wingless entity
Naked and caged propelled to flower.
...

Give me a woman in a birdcage
Singing like a canary for a kingdom without chains
Singing for a deeper humanity
Flapping her wings like words flung granite stones.
...

If I could come back in another life
I'd be more goal-driven.
I'd do better at school.
I'd work harder for sure.
...

Hypothetically
I travel to the centre of the universe.
Guessing the circumference of your heart
How a pinhole of light can shine so brightly
...

Our lives are manifestations
Like blue skies and rainclouds
And then-the-next, they disappear
...

Blue-eyed horses
Hold a piece of heaven in them.
It has a spiritual domain over others.
It aligns itself with the lightning.
...

Not caring who or what observes its infinite beauty.
The dance of the light
Beneath the surface of the water
Like the David Hockney picture,
...

It isn't that I am always right.
It's just that I don't bother to argue unless I am
This isn't because I am a belligerent fool
I understand it's all about perspectives.
...

I will leave for Jerusalem soon.
Christ will save me.
The tide of the ocean calls my soul.
What more can I do?
...

I've got a woman.
She wants her severance pay.
And says if I don't cough up today
I'll wind up dead.
...

You can't sugarcoat genius with a coat of dust.
Even when the end is near.
You can hit them like a piñata.
And expect them to be broken or beaten.
...

My heart has been bankrupt for many days,
Many months, to the point I've lost count.
And yet now I lean on faith and not hope,
Sometimes more on one than the other.
...

My life is an appendage of yours.
When we're together, there are no more brochures
or flirting innuendos—overtures.
...

I had melancholy till I found the Lord.
And lost my mind drinking all I could find.
I had melancholy till I joined the horde.
...

I want to burn some tables and chairs.
In the dark backwoods
And laugh and hear it echo in a chapel
I want to sing as loud as a raging sea
...

The Best Poem Of M. A Heathcote

I Imagine Somehow, I, Too, Can Fly

When I see the green and red
Of the furnace flames aglow,
And a white dove is rising in the skies.
And those sleek, slender, starving Black-
And tan cats of the smithy go meandering by.
I imagine somehow, I, too, can fly.

I imagine I have already died and left.
The old steel foundry of my youth is behind.
But it's still not my turn or time to glide.
I didn't join the thugs or thieves or the reprobates.
I didn't become a stranger to myself.
But I nearly lost myself many times to drink instead.

Sure enough, life's fires intoxicated me.
Softened and hardened me,
And helped forge me into who I am today.
Questioning how I survived is simply
The poet's way of understanding.
Miracles are a learnt performance.
Needing practice almost every day.

M. A Heathcote Comments

Close
Error Success