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The Web Poetry Corner - M A Heathcote - Everest



M A Heathcote

Everestóchild; thatís your mountain, now go and climb its peak
It isnít easy to get to the summit, son,
Thereís many still there buried at its humble feet.
But if you will it, son, you might just accomplish, it?
And who knows, you might just find that little piece of heaven,
That soothes a manís mind at that tender age of twenty seven.

But first, son, youíve got to acclimatize.
Breathe easy, child! Breathe easy, son!
Breathe deep into those concave lungs and loosen-up that angry snarling sigh...
Else your heart might descend, and then your soul wonít learn to follow...
To be your bitterest rival or your only best friend:

Breathe easy, child! The skies at your feet, itís in your shoes"
And that bridge youíve built doesnít lend its self to portend,
Or to cross the other side of that deadened, street; dead-end news... sheet?

Everest, is just a thorn in your thumb, son!
Suck it dry and wake up the worldóif youíre footsore, child!
But just remember never to run, my greenhorn, son!
Because all them nefarious devils laughing cries canít hurt, you!
If you still intend to shine, like an unapologetic son of mine!

But first youíve got to acclimatize!
Before you can climb to that summit...
It isnít easy if youíre a hermit or a limpet,
It isnít easy if youíre easily intimidated or just partially, paralyzed...
By fear like a partridge in a pear tree,
It isnít easy in these adopted Bad Lands my son to be free!

So breathe easy, son, every step has got to start with a helping hand...
Breathe easy, child! And that brook of life, you hoped to command,
Might emanate a gleaming spring thatíll never rush you, on by...
And just like a rainbow trout in a remote part of a river lake
Youíll discover the where... the how... and the why... of the way...
And how to die a son a father a child and a man, Jake!

With glittering wings you can aspire to learn the truth, behind
The wind; just like them leafs on a wintery crisp breeze.
Just like those leafs on the mountain side
That cradle on the wind up so high
You stand on the North face, whilst I still chide and pretend not to cry.

Everestóchild, thatís your mountain, now go and climb! Its thunderous peak
And make peace with your broken heart
It isnít easy, son, at all, but if youíre a child of mine at all, youíll climb to the summit, son
And prove you canít be ever left feeling thwart,
Son, youíll soon learn to touch a vacant piece of sky, on your own.

So take a leap of faith; it isnít easy to get to the summit
Of where I died, at the summit of your snow-capped, shoes. Jake!
Son, see your own grandchildren, your own son! And how he come and done it too!
And how he became a man like you too!
Tall as a man from Everest.., But still,
Not yet so big to be small...

In a string green cotton army vestó
Pull them soft white mitten climbers on to your mountain chest
And throw them over your shoulder
Breathe easy! Breathing easy, Son!
Thatís just what youíll do...
As you get older too...

Breathe easy, child, the skies at your feet;
And that bridge youíve built has now only nearly just met you;
On the other-side of that highest lowliest peak, you and I call, home sweet home!

To visit all of M A Heathcote's poems, click HERE

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