Mark. A Heathcote

Tintagel Castle 

where King Arthur once ruled
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loneliness
it's like a prayer unanswered
the jukebox's last song
*
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ultimately
destiny is an illusion
all journeys end
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you torment me
with your kisses of moonlight
apple blossom
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Life is a long, open road.
With few pit-stops or fuelling stations
Many, therefore, check the rearview mirror.
As it's a road over ravines and mountains
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I shall be invisible.
A force pushing you on
taking you to destinations
You've always longed
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You know we are all the same shade of grey.
I guess only the strength of the sunlight
makes it different when we're anchors aweigh
It's the same destination gunfight.
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Amaryllis - love-struck
her heart was for his taking
Keep it, said Alteo
*
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love—I defy
anything preconceived—but
haven't we met before?
*
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given yet another
white wash the canvas resists
transformation
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there is beauty

in all our day-to-days
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the Wicklow Mountains

they get many visitors
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symbol of balance 666
in Hindu numerology
a spiritual path
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Palash tree
the flame of the forest
Vishnu, Brahma, Shiva
*
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when the Palash tree
spills all her claret petals
forest fires appear
*
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petticoats
and pear tree blossoms and then
landscapes hoary white
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pirate crow's nest
a top of an old oak tree
big as a galleon
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Snowdrops

lantern green threads
with diamond eyelets nod their-
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My first real boyhood hero was Barbra Streisand.
Honestly, I couldn't have been more than 7 years old.
I guess it's an odd choice for a boy of that silly age.
I first recollect seeing her in black and white.
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Divine Mother, on your tiger—fortifies my heart.
Slay the demons of ego with all ten arms-thwart.
Let your left eye control my greatest weakness.
Desire for the right spurs me on to righteousness.
...