Mark. A Heathcote
Mark. A Heathcote Poems
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-
...
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.
...
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.
...
the strong are the weak
give them pneumonia and watch
they'll cry—tears like a baby
in its crib for its mother
...
Baton down the hatches
The shadows
There is a ghost in your blood
wearing your hoary flesh
...
Pennies from the wishing well
I'd throw them at your tranquil soul, your feet
To see the ripples of yesterday roll
So you'll remember my name
...
Dust motes circle the moon.
my heart with a solitary
depth I can't remove
...
A logical fantasy
Would be for me to kiss you
And learn to walk on water.
And learn to fly.
...
What was that?
Explain...
I get that look all the time.
My face hides nothing.
...
Lonesome
There's an echo in the woods.
Every sky is an empire.
Looking in your big blue eyes
...
Oh, you dampen my soul
But my heart is an ember
It's never truly extinguished
...
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/ mrkheathcote@yahoo.co.uk)
The Best Poem Of Mark. A Heathcote
I Imagine Somehow, I, Too, Can Fly
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-
And tan cats of the smithy go meandering by.
I imagine somehow, I, too, can fly.
I imagine I have already died and left.
The old steel foundry of my youth is behind.
But it's still not my turn or time to glide.
I didn't join the thugs or thieves or the reprobates.
I didn't become a stranger to myself.
But I nearly lost myself many times to drink instead.
Sure enough, life's fires intoxicated me.
Softened and hardened me,
And helped forge me into who I am today.
Questioning how I survived is simply
The poet's way of understanding.
Miracles are a learnt performance.
Needing practice almost every day.
Mark. A Heathcote Comments
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