Mark Heathcote Poems

None other is in my heart but you!
You are the tread of morning dew

That trails a path though my soul
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Can we decrypt any meanings from glass?
Look on my work travels today,
I saw a hand-printed heart, was it crass...
Newly frosted, on the bus, I did weigh.
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I get lost in her kiss
And even my self-awareness
Goes oddly amiss
I feel like I am onboard the
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As Celebration Day approaches us
we promote independent living,
we celebrate diversity, in harness-
yes, we're all rejoicing...
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Like a sparrow hawk, God came to me.
He subjected himself before me, powerless.
And, said? I am to you what is all mighty.
But never the less, I am powerless.
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Through the window, I see your soul
Leaving like a flock of birds
That has now decided to leave and go
Without a single word,
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Tangled up inside I tell my tongue
My heart not to listen to you
That every dream we dreamed
We'll dream again under this sun.
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I’m a virginal artist and I’m breaking out
So save your critique till I’ve grown
Till I’ve learnt to fly… A little
Don’t clip my teenage wings,
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Thoughts paper-masque greyly,
over our rhymester's face comprised-
of printed words - internalized,
it drips dries, half-frozen really,
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The dawn chorus outside
Celebrating every memory
Is transporting my stride
To open my heart - tarry
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