Mark Heathcote

Gold Star - 4,705 Points (22/03/66 / Manchester)

Aren’t Words Apt? - Poem by Mark Heathcote

Blue and battered falling… like leaves
Aren’t words apt; hollow in feeling?
When, you’re rummaging-depth of seaweeds,
Drowning; besides mermaids a merman ever sweetly.

“Won’t you gather me in the wind?
Take me too your lair”. Whispered a voice…
Bind me in your oaken shark tailed limbs,
I’ll be your pagan Japanese lady there, I swear.

Your midnights raven with talons to tear!
The one; with black or golden, red, crimson hair.
Blue and battered fallen… like those ill begotten, leaves.
Aren’t words apt; hollow in feeling if you please?

…When you’re reeling in the shadows,
Listening to these night owls, cries.
With all seven senses departed for the wind
My rare blue Akahana Japanese rose.

Listen to this poem:

Comments about Aren’t Words Apt? by Mark Heathcote

There is no comment submitted by members..



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?



Poem Submitted: Sunday, April 21, 2013

Poem Edited: Monday, April 22, 2013


[Hata Bildir]