Mark Heathcote Poems

This sea waxes and wanes like a candle by moonlight
if only I could stay here a little bit longer
and remain to find work, become a playwright
who has beach combed the sandbars like a poet author?
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The good Lord is a dull stone in my shoe
I'm too lazy to shake him loose
He jolts my conscience, as I take issue.
He makes me limp; sore are my sinews...
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Glowworm holds me in your fires blood
You're cloying light squelching in the mud
I hear your heart in the stillness of a beat
Because my love nearer fails to live or die
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Beautiful shared thoughts
With two doves on each shoulder
An author - come, dove keeper,
You are turning me into a cannibal of poetry.
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My muse has left the building…
She must be out singing, with Elvis
Shaking her little hula hoop pelvis
Doing the Rock-a-hula…
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Yellow bomb,
Time is fixed
You'll soon be a grenade again
Yellow bomb,
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I could carve you up like an ice sculpture.
Dissolve even the merest combatant shard
And disembowel all your surplus fears
Momentarily, I could have embraced you
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A gypsum salt mine fills Mary's eyes
diamond tears milk a tear duct
what has dissolved has seen
another lonely, upchucked
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You ask - so I say
I'm feeling fine
I've just had some annual leave
And I'll be back on Tuesday,
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Cuts and bruises came easily
but healing took you
until the end of your life
cuts and bruises came easily
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