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Burt Heacock Poem
The greatest pretender in the sky
is a thief in wings
and sings and sings in purloined folly.
A burlesque bird first loots a throat
then coddles every stolen note
and assembles every syllable
Then one by one in choral mime
as though true specie in the air
acts with incipit pompous dare.
And what honest notes could sound
that author care the see
that invention were an honest gift
achieved with authenticity.
Copyright © Burt Heacock | Year Posted 2016
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Burt Heacock Poem
THE AWAKENING
It was midnight that I laid still
and breath had filtered down
An open book - a nagging fly
will wait for me until
bestirred at morning’s knock
when stoves excite a brew
and housewives stir a door
toward sunrise bursting through -
to heaven like a broom
sweeping eyelids like a fan
and chattel and dust balls
like billiards across the room -
that wake the inner chambers
of my brain i separate stalls
that conjure up my daily tasks
within these slumbered walls
Copyright © Burt Heacock | Year Posted 2015
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Burt Heacock Poem
To lift an ounce is easy
then brag what obstacles were
To raise a pound is misery
and tell how easy came
To say I Love you first
is to heft a ton
when all the while I waited
to hear from the other one.
Copyright © Burt Heacock | Year Posted 2015
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Burt Heacock Poem
THE FENCE
I see a boy with eyes of blue
searching his life for what is true
His feet are bare, his hands are rough
He has no life, the days are tough
He leans against and old wood fence
The weeds are tall , the woods are dense
His head is resting on the old wood row
He has no life, no Love nor need to grow
They have shown no Love, no arms were there
He lives alone for there is no care
Inside his heart there lies a need
Won't someone help him plant a seed?
Love has no house inside his heart
His mind, his will, his efforts torn apart
As life goes by it makes no sense
That's why his head leans on the fence
Copyright © Burt Heacock | Year Posted 2015
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Burt Heacock Poem
THE NEST
One does not invade another’s nest
When so Lovingly placed
The string and twig entwined
in such seamless haste
No need for basement
nor sidewalks to
No need for windows nor a door
no purpose for a flue
The down be it’s furniture
The limb it’s only beam
Would God’s intention be for us
his most gentle scheme.
Copyright © Burt Heacock | Year Posted 2015
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Burt Heacock Poem
Marvel at the meeting!
The mixing of friend and foe
To discern themselvs in debate
Weighing the cons and pro
The margin of error is listed
while lacking diplomacy!
Catcalls, flags and waving hands
all spell democracy
Copyright © Burt Heacock | Year Posted 2016
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Burt Heacock Poem
Stop the myth that I do live
- send the mourners by
- set them down in rows of ten
with pallbearers on every side
But tell them that though I'm still
and betterI than they
endure the motion in the ground
or gossip in the air
Arrest the myth that I am dead
The Trojan at the door!
The charger - full of headlines knock
Humanity - how deceitful you are.
Copyright © Burt Heacock | Year Posted 2016
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Burt Heacock Poem
Inebriant is affection
when hearts to hearts are hot
and pangs can cut the tendering
Effects not short of alcohol !
Come to my heart - take it slow
One atrium at a time
The right - when at first sight
The left - when attractions grow
Ventricles are the portico
Emotion at the door !
In cadence debuts the lifeblood
That solicitous ore !
That synonym - the saviour -
the kindred in kind -
like life and death -co-exist
How much like brethren they are
Live and blood steep in vermillion
How vital they are !
Then one and then the other
One distills - the other gurgles on.
Copyright © Burt Heacock | Year Posted 2016
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Burt Heacock Poem
I wonder what my dower would be
if he had not chosen life
A constable -in bag would be
the share - halved - without the choice
Would hold memories I suppose
but those we shared
so, bring me half he owned outright
Bring me secrets on a page
and space them - just so-
that such stuns at a time
could never awe me so
And in it - the design
for such a mystery
and show me confidence in a wife
which entitled him husbandry
Copyright © Burt Heacock | Year Posted 2016
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Burt Heacock Poem
KITCHEN NECTAR
How sweet the walls must taste
when cuisines and anvils fuse about the place
and spices unite from every orient
How beautiful the arc must be
between the vulcan chefs
when spoons and hammers vulcanize
above the temple floor
How enhancing is a sight
when once invention comes
and swinging doors emit a sound
like some nebulous light
Could cohesion cause a glow?
Revelry and invention could you know
Or is it spoons arcing in the air
to weld a plate below
Copyright © Burt Heacock | Year Posted 2015
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