Mark Heathcote

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryTen For The Ten Commandments (IP) well-wisher914 years 9 months ago
StoryNicknames for Aislinn Mark Heathcote415 years 2 months ago
StoryLove is the drug shoe815 years 3 months ago
Storyplease (don't ) marry me! shoe1515 years 3 months ago
Storythe affair shoe1315 years 3 months ago
StoryNo two people Mark Heathcote215 years 7 months ago
StorySpring Fever jennifer215 years 7 months ago
StoryEunectes Murinus Anna Marie315 years 7 months ago
StoryToothless Wander lenchenelf915 years 8 months ago
StoryHow royally Avant-garde am I? Mark Heathcote115 years 10 months ago
StoryNearly human (again) Nick.A315 years 11 months ago
StoryDo the British take their brollies? Mark Heathcote616 years 2 months ago
StoryVII Stanzas Mark Heathcote216 years 2 months ago
StoryA Lovely Day Jupiter1816 years 3 months ago
StoryThe Trouble with Grace Silver Spun Sand3016 years 3 months ago
StoryChaosity Kills jennifer216 years 9 months ago
StoryPenetrates jennifer117 years 2 weeks ago
StoryThe music of one’s love is deaf and dumb Mark Heathcote317 years 1 month ago
StoryA Cautionary Tale MistakenMagic217 years 4 months ago
StoryIn these cormorant hours spent swift Mark Heathcote217 years 4 months ago

My stories

Love’s a dodo

Love is effortless they say. Some compare it to child’s play But whatever it is, it’s neither Child’s play, nor effortless… Just look in these glossy magazines

It’s all love coos… a turtle dove!

He who vents anger towards god And says he doesn’t exist…? Couldn’t be more of a believer Than he who goes church on Sunday To validate a new growing faith

Gingerbread men…

Four sons baking made Gingerbread men… The two youngest prayed That when they woke-up They wouldn’t all be gone! For what they’d made… For what they’d made... They’d had—none!

Catching moths and butterflies together!

His muscular moonlit body Caresses her; warm, milky, skin. Flex’s taut - masculinity Over; every pore therein. For his embraces, she shivers

Blank canvas…

I often think the artist Needs a vast blank canvas I often feel the poet songs Arise out of pure emotion Loneliness, emptiness… A void to be filled, transgressed.

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