Mark Heathcote

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryEunectes Murinus Anna Marie316 years 1 month ago
StoryToothless Wander lenchenelf916 years 2 months ago
StoryHow royally Avant-garde am I? Mark Heathcote116 years 4 months ago
StoryNearly human (again) Nick.A316 years 5 months ago
StoryDo the British take their brollies? Mark Heathcote616 years 8 months ago
StoryVII Stanzas Mark Heathcote216 years 8 months ago
StoryA Lovely Day Jupiter1816 years 9 months ago
StoryThe Trouble with Grace Silver Spun Sand3016 years 10 months ago
StoryChaosity Kills jennifer217 years 3 months ago
StoryPenetrates jennifer117 years 6 months ago
StoryThe music of one’s love is deaf and dumb Mark Heathcote317 years 7 months ago
StoryA Cautionary Tale MistakenMagic217 years 10 months ago
StoryIn these cormorant hours spent swift Mark Heathcote217 years 10 months ago

My stories

So pale and hurtfully prissy

Why does she come shadow crawling up my spine. Doesn’t she realize I’ve served a necromancer’s time? Melancholy is a thistle a rose garland in black holy

She put a rind around the world

She put a rind around the world And set it like a flower Then when it grew her dust run through... Like a rainbow after a shower. She put a rind around the world And beheld her oceans pearl

All long' the reign of absorption

Footprints’ of people now unforeseen’ Travelling cogent in one direction, Such is the felicity the raiment of a dream. Each death-nail step a predestination,

A poet’s epitaph

No joy is here to stroke away the hours That love has bent with her mortal powers So veil not the scaring in your solace-eyes For this marks well the habitual pages,

If beauty could let her love to me

If beauty could let' her love to me' Like the white buds on a magnolia tree What a nature in my soul there would be What a freedom in my breast for thee Could I in truth set wing flung free...

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