Mark Heathcote

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryEunectes Murinus Anna Marie316 years 2 months ago
StoryToothless Wander lenchenelf916 years 3 months ago
StoryHow royally Avant-garde am I? Mark Heathcote116 years 5 months ago
StoryNearly human (again) Nick.A316 years 6 months ago
StoryDo the British take their brollies? Mark Heathcote616 years 9 months ago
StoryVII Stanzas Mark Heathcote216 years 9 months ago
StoryA Lovely Day Jupiter1816 years 10 months ago
StoryThe Trouble with Grace Silver Spun Sand3016 years 10 months ago
StoryChaosity Kills jennifer217 years 4 months ago
StoryPenetrates jennifer117 years 7 months ago
StoryThe music of one’s love is deaf and dumb Mark Heathcote317 years 8 months ago
StoryA Cautionary Tale MistakenMagic217 years 11 months ago
StoryIn these cormorant hours spent swift Mark Heathcote217 years 11 months ago

My stories

To err is human, ‘songstresses’

She's a contralto, With high sustaining, notes Her voice is a salvo, O’ the rapture, she emotes Calling-on spicy, Bacchus... In “lightness" or "heaviness" She specializes in control.

Minding my own business...

Whilst standing in a Withington bar. ‘The Old Man At Home’ Minding my own business... Doing my stuff, as a support worker Ordering a clients drink; taking him out for an evening meal.

Flightless angels shall fervently stare

A little prismatic wing of love wings back for us all at once to try and cocoon its meaning and discover.

Once they spall-sparkled like foxglove

The downbeat, downtrodden, joys of love. Once they spall-sparkled like the foxglove! But now descend like a beach ball… Pig’s balder, words choke in the hairball.

The night runs in fear of the dreamer

The night runs in fear of the dreamer As for he there is no night. For even though there is darkness in abundance He only need close his eyes to see there is light.

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