Mark Heathcote Poems

Thank you, thank you
What can I do, for you?
Because that’s what it boils
Down too
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I've got a lock of your red hair
What do I care?
I've got a lock of your red hair
You can go, anywhere
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The first we learnt of faith
was a dying fish gasping to breathe
never to be put back.
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I need a man for a French maid
as I linger & watch him-slave
I'll light up another cigarette & gloat,
he's my heart he's my, type of bloke.
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Forgive my Babylon temperate floods…
There's no evil in my sodden roots
So forgive my Babylonian Dynasty
Oh, forgive me in all honesty
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Love is ginger
Love is sweet
Love is an apple blossom,
Each time we meet.
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Two sharp eyed sparrows
Playing in the muck
Looking into stars
See what they'd give up!
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Before any strenuous deployment
before any full-on engagement
our washed-out muscles require exercise
it necessitates we practice our art.
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Our love hasn't yet pleaded poverty,
but there are days, my dear - it goes hungry.
Do you think our love has a life, condemn?
That withers away like our last encounter.
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Is he learning any new words today?
Dad says to the baby, planetary.
No, not 'plant a tree' but planetary
the baby mumbles back; plant a tree
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