What does it really matter?
Like snow in its patter...
If it's to light for heavy weather
If love melts away forever!
Motion a kiss...
At midnights asking!
Wouldn't the moon reminisce?
Her wane from the waxing...
In her magnetic—stubbiness
Her wilfulness of innocence
Ah, there's a cosmic pool of bliss...,
Something only I'll reminisce!
He spoke of an eternal calm
He spoke of love and of hate
He held me amidst his gentle palm
A broken arrow—set, straight.
You require strong courage
But you needn't those tears
You cause wars in defence
But you needn't those fears.
A bird flowers in a stem
That joy is for all gods men.
A fruit vine lavishly divine!
Sowing wisdom in the sublime!
A thousand living torsos
Lick their limbless wounds.
Such are desert dunes...
Egyptian cotton, sheets.
Mark Heathcote's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (VII Stanzas by Mark Heathcote )
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- A-DOODLE-DO, Donald R Charon
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