Mark Heathcote

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryEunectes Murinus Anna Marie316 years 3 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 7 months ago
StoryDo the British take their brollies? Mark Heathcote616 years 10 months ago
StoryVII Stanzas Mark Heathcote216 years 10 months ago
StoryA Lovely Day Jupiter1816 years 10 months ago
StoryThe Trouble with Grace Silver Spun Sand3016 years 11 months ago
StoryChaosity Kills jennifer217 years 5 months ago
StoryPenetrates jennifer117 years 8 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 Heathcote218 years 1 week ago

My stories

Toss my hat; with the great, Hurrah...

Love, what shall be my proudest-hour? Too write a poem about Some purple ...wallflower.

The lovers-root is a white-flower

The month; does but shiver into joy, With the tears of a snow-drop, Little-bells, buoyant, green and cloy, Ringing; beyond the hilltop. The lovers-root is a white-flower

Self profiling, prophesies...

What man lusts he takes What man seeks he finds? What man desires he fractures What man envisages transpires. What man hates up-rises, manifold..? What man breaks hence is, fixed.

A love slave’s shanty to a goddess...

I’d like to look for—the spry-blossom, called Phoebe There is nought as virtuous, or saintly, as the white gypsy... I’d like to find me—that last green forget-me-not

A question amongst equals

Compare the woodpigeon to a street pigeon There couldn’t be amongst equal’s two more apart Ones dignified, as if by religion Chosen; and then given a full head start.

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