Mark. A Heathcote Poems

Love is like bringing home the Guinness, not the bacon.
Pour halfway, then add the rest.
To see if it won't glisten with a full head.
It's a velvety warmth from the first sip to the last.
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When I see the green and red
Of the furnace flames aglow,
And a white dove is rising in the skies.
And those sleek, slender, starving Black-
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The workings of a clock
It can be as mechanical as a stopped heart.
A wingless entity
Naked and caged propelled to flower.
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Give me a woman in a birdcage
Singing like a canary for a kingdom without chains
Singing for a deeper humanity
Flapping her wings like words flung granite stones.
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If I could come back in another life
I'd be more goal-driven.
I'd do better at school.
I'd work harder for sure.
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Hypothetically
I travel to the centre of the universe.
Guessing the circumference of your heart
How a pinhole of light can shine so brightly
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Our lives are manifestations
Like blue skies and rainclouds
And then-the-next, they disappear
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Blue-eyed horses
Hold a piece of heaven in them.
It has a spiritual domain over others.
It aligns itself with the lightning.
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Not caring who or what observes its infinite beauty.
The dance of the light
Beneath the surface of the water
Like the David Hockney picture,
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It isn't that I am always right.
It's just that I don't bother to argue unless I am
This isn't because I am a belligerent fool
I understand it's all about perspectives.
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