Mark. A Heathcote
Mark. A Heathcote Poems
Louis Wain had his paw bent on painting.
And drawing the most wonderful things.
He had an eye for the mischievous and fun.
He liked one Persian cat for its distinctive blue eyes.
...
Haiku's 30/11/12
after dusk, church bells
I walked through the graveyard
...
December comes but-
once a year with Christmas trees
sleigh bells and reindeer
*
...
I filter fresh coffee.
One cup after another
Till I'm left shaking alone
Like a candle in a windy enclave
...
Let us dine al fresco.
Breathe in the intoxicating air.
I want to stare at the stars.
And the heavenly moonlight
...
I want to synthesise the beauty of your eyes.
Take scissors so I can prise them out.
I want to cut around your body.
The universe and everywhere you've been
...
Oh, oh, fan these flames.
I'm a willing sacrifice.
Oh, oh, fan these flames.
I want to combust.
...
Starting with every childish caper
One day, sitting back in a rocking chair,
Skin & bones like crinkled crepe paper
We'll remember our lot livesshare.
...
I reset my thoughts
spring hasn't left us far behind
now we've peach blossoms
*
...
Though your words injure me cruelly,
I nurse my heart, my right to love you.
I'd never weep or cry unduly.
I don't second-guess or misconstrue.
...
Little brother, little sister
Protagonists of disaster
When our fists are raised in anger.
...
Wrens - warble
Turkeys - gobble
Rooster - cock-a-doodle-doo
Calves - bleat
...
If I could soar above all my inherent problems
And fly like an eagle, where should I nest
Every place I would seek to rest has problems
The wind is either too strong or too light
...
He wraps his hands around her throat.
A candle about to die
Black feathers in hand practically smote
A dagger's stabbing, bloody goodbye.
...
One morning with renewed faith, we'll awake.
Like Anadolu ponies dancing, and
Skip outside...kick open the stable door—shake
Our manes, and nod our heads, flick our tails, stunned.
...
When I was a child, I had a Rough Collie dog.
It visited pensioners on the council estate.
And became an incredible friend and mate
Dogs are amazing; they leave me agog.
...
Seen as a wader, the gleaner
Of these murky margins.
He is in for the long haul. Neck deep,
So gracefully slender.
...
Mark. A Heathcote Biography
Mark Andrew Heathcote is an adult learning difficulties support worker. His poems have been published in various journals, magazines, and anthologies, both online and in print. He is from Manchester and resides in the UK. Mark is the author of In Perpetuity and & Back on Earth, two books of poems published by Creative Talents Unleashed. I am sadly locked out of my previous account https: //www.poemhunter.com/mark-heathcote/ [email protected])
The Best Poem Of Mark. A Heathcote
Creativity And Madness
Louis Wain had his paw bent on painting.
And drawing the most wonderful things.
He had an eye for the mischievous and fun.
He liked one Persian cat for its distinctive blue eyes.
And a tabby for its coat of Bengal orange fur
He'd paint cats, play cricket or shoot a 12-bore gun.
There's no surprise we all concur.
The man found fame but had to economise.
Because he was never a man of business, not at all.
He was a misfit hairball, a canvas without a coverall.
And tragedy became a pivotal force.
The loss of his dear wife, of course
It was never to leave him, a catastrophe
And heartbreak was the cornerstone
Of his dear poor life, it led him into poverty,
And later on, insanity sent him to the cattery,
No, not the cattery, the pauper's asylum.
Because financially, he was ruined.
But the public's affection saved him,
They raised the money to send him to Bethlem.
Where he painted mirrors at Christmas time
And learnt to love, again, the eccentricity
The creativity, the frivolity of his passion and art.
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3/10/2026 1:56:24 PM # 1.0.0
