Biography of Mark Heathcote
I like all kinds of poems but I tend to gravitate toward eastern spiritual poetry.
My muse almost demands it of me. So you may find quite a few being poured out from time to time.
I all so write many songs, when the poem spring runs dry, as a form of creative writing.
I work with adult learning difficulties as a support worker in the UK. Home town is Manchester. My other interests are in gardening and art. I had a really poor education, but try to improve with every write. I hope you’ll enjoy visiting my writes…
- 2-Year-Old Language Classes -new-
- The Fall Of The Titans -new-
- Feathered Raven -new-
- Froogle, Dougal -new-
- Attic Room -new-
- Like A Dog Chasing Its Tail -new-
- Alien Abduction Ii -new-
- Self-Indulgence Is King -new-
- Where I'll Lie -new-
- Little Flower -new-
- Luminary Light Befalls -new-
- Orchid's Air Roots
- Blessed Imelda Lambertini
Mark Heathcote Poems
Restrain me because I want to bathe in your sun I want a southern moon to shiver on you From the naked shadows, I cast over you Restrain me I'm like an applecart toppled over
Poverty Is A Gift
Father, poverty is a gift Ask any bird taking a rain bath. Son, don't make's me laugh There's nothing but rain
I've Frozen Time & Space
Fleeting as an ocean wave; Once, surge waters knocked us both for six. "I know And it is as if only yesterday for me I held your hand in mine, a lifetime ago.
River Street Urchins
River street urchins The gutters are swelling [Waiting] for the sky—you, I To reach—the storm drains of joy.
When Rivers Run Cold
When rivers run cold, it makes you wonder if they were ever warm Why we ever went skinny-dipping, swam naked in a thunderstorm When fires turn to ashes, it makes you wonder did they ever burn. Why was the air sulphur every other silent nocturne?
Roses Are On Fire
A river of stars A bed of roses still in bud We're but water lilies Learning to be rainbows
Two Poems Of Two Line Poems
The still pools reflection, what clarity, within its deepest depths it holds? Until a trouble mind bestirs, silts of time. Looking for what else unfolds.
Meeting On The Hill
A hand up brother, a free man's gift We can share this summit in a handshake It's barren; nothing to steal here or take There's no dividing line, African Rift,
For A Straggling-Stalk Of Green Corn
With barely a whisper I was almost blown over Like a straggling-stalk Of green corn, I'm bent
The sun has gone into the shade And, turned a corner She will not be returning Not neither soon… nor later
The Wedding Cake Couple
The wedding cake couple Held hands on-top in vigil Clinging on to each other tightly There ‘I do's' written in song
I Want To Be A Hapless, Happy Bee
I want to dive into a flower. Be engulfed by its desire I want to feel its living fire its power Source, it's one-sunlight prior.
Isn't This Who; We Are
The biggest monument to peace Ever built was the Great Wall of China. Troubled times, constitute bigger walls Fear is the fabric of life.
Your Kisses Inflame My Thoughts
You'd like us to talk, well it's banal. Your kisses inflame my thoughts, Like a war correspondents journal. All they do is lead to more potshots
A 3-Minute Irish Song
She went so, young
I still haven't heard what happened.
All I know is
there are pregnant moments where
you should fill up your lungs
draw in fresh, abundant air.
But at times right out of the blue,
Death, herald's silence to a song
removal of a dream, that golden tune