Mark. A Heathcote Poems

I am the fall, the colour of God's love.
I am Lava. I am Rosso Corsa.
I am Magenta. I am Fuchsia.
I am Rosewood, disintegrating rust.
...

petticoats
and pear tree blossoms and then
landscapes hoary white
...

pirate crow's nest
a top of an old oak tree
big as a galleon
...

Snowdrops

lantern green threads
with diamond eyelets nod their-
...

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.
...

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.
...

She could be, but for her now, ageing carcass
She herself could be the Hindu goddess.
of fortune with her soft date-palm tree broom
She could be 'Lakshmi' in that bright costume.
...

She takes her broom to wildly sweep.
Keeping an occasional eye on the sky
With a personal look at her dust heap
She remains dauntless, shy and spry.
...

Men would quake in their opium hearts to meet
A beauty, in whose pleasing narcotic glance
All the spheres of this primate's earth would beguile.
In whose doe-eyed glances, Goddess graces dance.
...

camellias
in a blue vase reaching
astral plains
...