Mark Heathcote (22/03/66 / Manchester)
The moral vine
It’s great to have morals…
And, lord them like laurels.
How few of us have them—
In truth we acquire them.
Honestly, from time to time
These slack, smiles, only mime
“What loosely, they can’t hide”.
Why—scorn is naked ‘poolside’.
And, I’m thankful for that…
I could rhyme – inappropriately.
But what would be the point of that—
Such lowly ethics would be smutty.
“We plant each seed expectant!
Believing, it’ll grow straight”.
But every vine must climb, climb
(Twisted-height’s in the meantime) …
Comments about this poem (The moral vine by Mark Heathcote )
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