Mark Heathcote Poems

Here alone-lying-on this cotton pillow.
I can still recall the lure of her lily scent:
Bouquets do me gaze and camphor and shadow
Never a dull moment does the heart repent:
...

Beneath the white wet dew-lit foxgloves,
The lichens and apricot boughs
Beneath the dusky grey church clock tower
And the ambient wet westward clouds,
...

When an angel sings
a devil will cry, I'm lonely
without you, without you.
...

Summer flowers are pink-and-blue
but here today, when love is true.
I see the snowdrop and the daffodil
the saffron crocus on a dew lit hill
...

Damask rose, how fair your beauty holds the light.
How-fair-your fragrance subdues the fears of the night.
And how beautifully fair your lowly crimson head-
Is with gallantry and passions fed?
...

All hopes and tears
will condensate
in the souls
and hearts of all you've loved
...

Here lies-
my grandmother-
weak and tired, nearing her death.
The archetypal grandmother
...

Another day of roses and wine
and you will always be mine.
O, Valentine, there's more to this
then just another passionate kiss
...

I dream so, oh so, so high of ye
Night and the soul wilt rest
And raise me on an oncoming cloud
Aloft to my angel, my angel child
...

His last hour came quickly and ever so fast
One minute it took; till, his seconds last.
He paused and let out; an almighty roar!
Scythed down was he like an old sycamore.
...