Mark Heathcote Poems

Retirement is like when you're late to a buffet
when all you're best friends are gone
and nothing good is left. And because others
they all went out to draw some fresh air
...

Bluebird, why do you sing to me
Over the hill and veiled shadows
Like never before
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Moonlit chowder cooking on the stove
I don't need fish, clams,
Or corn, potatoes or onions.
Throw me just a starlit stone
...

Fake tears in a dark wood dream
Of a seamless summer
And a warm, soft, serpentine wind
With a feathery touch
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What did I ever do to you but love you?
In death, a trailing flower, holding on to its last breath.
I called like a bird flailing on a breeze
One beautiful morning, daffodil gold, but still, I weep.
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You could be a movie star
a multitasking Hollywood avatar
wearing diamante tassel earrings.
You could outshine them bigwigs
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Don't -stop me from falling.
Don't -stop me now. I want to let go.
Don't -stop me now.
I can't make this pain go away.
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Where can we meet?
Where can we meet?
What can I still do to influence you?
No one leaves me.
...

Once, I was as mysterious as a nervous roe deer.
Once, I was an invisible illusion made up of air and electricity humming with bees.
I was transitory as a heartbeat registering your silent singing.
Once, I was a hummingbird in the heart of a flower.
...

He's a Romeo to the stars.
They them that never knew what it was to have fun?
Salivated from their tongue
He would walk like he owned all of heaven.
...