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 11 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 3 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

Spick and span leather shoes

Spick and span leather shoes The pavement has read your news You're worn out soles Curb, rub and run On the coals Of the burnt out sun Once they were bare And had the fun of the fair

triangular

Life, death, the here ever after This worlds jib, jibs, triangular! The father, son and Holy Ghost Desire, love and lust! They’re the obsequious... Yearnings, burning in us most;

Language is the kingdom

Language is the kingdom of the soul It's compass is the making of the whole Weather by madness Science or art It's lineage contains the heart. And when the needle points out death

To seed the steps of heaven

Morning-glory must open! To seed the steps of heaven And on her nap of cloud; Might yours be a halo a crown? Opening the gates of heaven... And that basket of laundry

A white Christmas

When the last of the rowanberries are eaten It is said, then’ that truly the winter began; Invaders sit on TV aerials of ermine Pinkish-brown birds from as far as Japan.

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