Mark Heathcote (22/03/66 / Manchester)
If I Sang To The Moon Would Not All The Stars Rejoice?
If I a shadow, hadn’t stumbled over you
And made that gentle bow, like a blade of grass…
Would you not of shimmered like the morning dew?
For me; always and forever…
If the ocean makes the sand
Who made the moon-grains pearl?
Who made the mountain that stands?
Like a bottomless, hourglass
Reflecting-up - up but still below you…
If a reeling cloud dressed Venus, ethereal as a snow drift.
Would I just not undress to tremble, invisible, next to you?
Just to listen to my angels melting, tiptoes…
Disappearing; with her jingles go.
If I sang to the moon, would not all the stars rejoice?
If a shadow, hadn’t stumbled over you
And took a bow like a blade of grass…
Would you not of beheld me
Quaking in my splintering, boots of glass.
If I was a scarlet; sky, enfolding all your love.
Would you not turn the potter’s wheel anti clockwise?
Too make it slow… into an eternal clay catalyst.
If I sing to the moon, would not all the stars rejoice?
If the solar system and the wheels are kind,
And I say it with flowers
Would you not hear a brass band a symphony?
From; some long forgot starlit paradise.
Comments about this poem (If I Sang To The Moon Would Not All The Stars Rejoice? by Mark Heathcote )
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