Biography of Mark Heathcote
I like all kinds of poems but I tend to gravitate toward eastern spiritual poetry.
My muse almost demands it of me. So you may find quite a few being poured out from time to time.
I all so write many songs, when the poem spring runs dry, as a form of creative writing.
I work with adult learning difficulties as a support worker in the UK. Home town is Manchester. My other interests are in gardening and art. I had a really poor education, but try to improve with every write. I hope you’ll enjoy visiting my writes…
- Ego Vs Modesty -new-
- Colossal Choices -new-
- Solace -new-
- Confession -new-
- A Candle Burns On The Mantle -new-
- Mother Says Get On With It -new-
- Top Hat & Tails -new-
- Love Endures -new-
- Two Turtle Doves -new-
- Heres My Dowry, Daisy -new-
- Fire - Haiku -new-
- Pining Road Ends -new-
- A Thousand Thorns -new-
- Winter Chills -new-
Mark Heathcote Poems
Two Poems Of Two Line Poems
The still pools reflection, what clarity, within its deepest depths it holds? Until a trouble mind bestirs, silts of time. Looking for what else unfolds.
For The Moon Has Made You Her Sun
The moon has circled your sins Made a white wedding band for you You must to the sound of her violins Be wed before the morning dew -
The Wedding Cake Couple
The wedding cake couple Held hands on-top in vigil Clinging on to each other tightly There ‘I do's' written in song
Love Without Sex - Sex Without Love
Sanitize your dirty thoughts the filth on your mind I might not want you beside me entwined I'm not the maid - called to her master's ring, I'm savvy and smart, and deserve better bling!
Compose Yourself My Sweet-Pea Flower
Compose yourself my sweetpea flower And face this here inferno' of the sun, Smile back; enjoy every day, every hour! Embrace everybody as were your little son.
Freedom Of Expression
Get out your notebook! Get out your black-biro pen Freedom of expression Hasn't had any recognisable friend.
WE should not fear injustice SHOULD its cruelty bring sadness? FEEL otherwise quietly, contented. SORROW is their shame cemented.
Everything's a rehearsal Go on - blow your own - whistle! Love now don't be bashful Grasp hold, it isn't a thistle.
And Time The Green Unfurling Fern Frond
Imagine the world without any feathers Without an angel wing in tether What would be the calling of a thing? Like a turtledove, without a ring.
Foreign Exchange Students…?
Their all parasites He says. Fleas on His back and nape His tridents tail His fiery mane. They circle around His burning boils
Lifeless wings twitch like an electric cable Could it be it’s a message to me? Black raven you fill up my skies… Vampirism, beauty, its feathered bill sings to me.
At night I think pink looks depressing… Like a school girls lumpy blancmange There is something churlish un-exotic Unless it's of, the most vibrant - colour.
Tears the size of pearls Ribbons in their curls Beautiful creations Are beautiful girls
Hewn from the strata of galaxies demure!
Inured with witchcraft; heartbreakingly, pure.
The bride wears her wedding-dress like haute-couture
Dressed in her heavenly gown made by Channel or Dior!
Poised like a vision, sumptuously, dressed and veiled.
She; supernatural swan like sailed…
Stunningly, intoxicating; like a little creature divine!
She takes up her grooms arm whispers thou, shall be mine.