Mark Heathcote

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryTen For The Ten Commandments (IP) well-wisher914 years 1 week ago
StoryNicknames for Aislinn Mark Heathcote414 years 5 months ago
StoryLove is the drug shoe814 years 6 months ago
Storyplease (don't ) marry me! shoe1514 years 6 months ago
Storythe affair shoe1314 years 6 months ago
StoryNo two people Mark Heathcote214 years 10 months ago
StorySpring Fever jennifer214 years 10 months ago
StoryEunectes Murinus Anna Marie314 years 10 months ago
StoryToothless Wander lenchenelf914 years 11 months ago
StoryHow royally Avant-garde am I? Mark Heathcote115 years 1 month ago
StoryNearly human (again) Nick.A315 years 2 months ago
StoryDo the British take their brollies? Mark Heathcote615 years 5 months ago
StoryVII Stanzas Mark Heathcote215 years 5 months ago
StoryA Lovely Day Jupiter1815 years 6 months ago
StoryThe Trouble with Grace Silver Spun Sand3015 years 7 months ago
StoryChaosity Kills jennifer216 years 2 weeks ago
StoryPenetrates jennifer116 years 3 months ago
StoryThe music of one’s love is deaf and dumb Mark Heathcote316 years 4 months ago
StoryA Cautionary Tale MistakenMagic216 years 7 months ago
StoryIn these cormorant hours spent swift Mark Heathcote216 years 7 months ago

My stories

Weight of love

His heart Became a crumpled Red poppy flower A slip knot Solipsism, thorn A barbed iron Slipping anchor On a day, Night had set sail. On a day, A sun must strum,

Pink raindrops

April in her crown of splendour Shows to heaven all her beauties-spoil Those clouds of pink-perfection Waver heavily bowed on bare earth Outside the church like confetti.

Sunspot shadows

Lead me love in sunspot shadows And let me bathe in there light Let me soothe in there sorrows Let me burn in there night Let me tease a violet flower And unveil a golden chalice

Men would quake in their opium hearts

Men would quake in their opium hearts to meet A beauty in whose pleasing narcotic glance All the spheres of the primate’s earth beguile And in who’s still doe like goddess graces dance.

The cradle of the chosen!

Touch, how“plainly the mountains sit In a horseshoe sleigh of snow Smell, how” oblivion reverberates, in it? When pragmatic sluice wheels blow... Hear, how” raucous the rooks, festoon

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