http://slow.writerscafe.org/CrissHill The original writings of author OctoberDawn en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776194686 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Sometimes… Words, faces, moments, seconds; flurries of consciousness shake me from my head. Leaving streaks on the conscious mirror of my present, I try desperately to wipe away the evidence. My attempts only serve to further mar the unadulterated effervescence of the memories. It's not .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/1924755/ Broken, but wrapped tight in the cracks of moments behind that still don't feel like the past. Glass, transparent but dark from the hands peering in; now this vision is marred. Hands, always tremble and shake wiping sweat from these eyes that are ever awake. Stars, made to show the way in the .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/1796979/ (Verse 1)I close my mouth when I bite my tongue, so I don't stain my shirt with the blood that runs. I know the words to burn you down, but cigarette speech isn't why I've come. I search your eyes for the wandering truth, you look away and I lose hope.I'm strong enough to just le.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/1794887/ I keep on letting paper ships go off into the night, as if their safe return was somehow my god-given right. Should I really be surprised to find them washed up In the sand? After all, their faults were my design and they're the product of my hand. A sculptor doesn't blame the clay when the bowl br.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/1794837/ God grant me clarity, because that's all I've really been asking for. Like a wish list of ambiguity, I can't blink and my eyes are sore. All I want is more, this cupidity leaves me hollow but truth is all that I'm hungry for. Do you know the sound a good man makes when he's done and can'.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/1793790/ So I guess I'll give it all until there's nothing left, "a poor man makes a sacrifice". This headline doesn't read as theft. This breathing quickens slowly as my sense will surely fade, a heart beneath the Avalanche, buried deep beneath the waves. My frozen hands can't still the worries of a deep an.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/1789827/ The car sped down the sun-soaked highway breaking the otherwise serene morning silence with the roar of machinery. The worn tires angrily spat rocks and gravel as the friction between rubber and road erupted at every turn. The speed at which the car was accelerating and taking corners suggested that.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/1390597/ David Winter:Main protagonist who, though he tries to maintain a positive outlook, has had unfortunate events cloud his disposition. His father having died 5-6 years prior, David struggles with his Mother's current battle with ALS and her inevitable death. David is a writer by profession and he.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/1387212/ "Please... Please don't rain."The overcast skies loomed sardonically low overhead as the clouds conspired and threatened precipitation. A tall, lean shadow of a man walked slowly but with purpose down the gravel pathways that cut through the otherwise grassy hills of South Street Cemetery. The .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/1384904/ http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/1384859/ Looking forward we must also look behind; to become the people we wish to be, we cannot lose sight of our former selves. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/1230824/ Raven hair alights the wind,Above turquoise moons and twilight skin.She in my night's sky,Her warmth like snow;Which on the breeze of winter's wind doth blow.But I brave this courseFor that pale, ethereal shine;Two orbs in the darkness,Connected only with mine.What else can be said,For what else can.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/1156134/ When real-life hits you and people move on, where will you fit in? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/1079048/ We all share the same fate. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/1074877/ Bodies are burning and days are the ashA soft death I feel; my heart is mere glass.Transparent but dim, where are the hands,I thought would dig deeper, is this all part of the "plan".Where is the Light when the dark rules supreme?Is this truly the life that I thought I would lead?Where is the g.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/1058252/ Here's to hoping that they will still love you for the man they didn't think you'd be. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/1050458/ Pale Limine, alight and set me free.Don't speak of what was done here,Press pill to lips and promise me,That through this, you'll set me free.Pale Limine, wash my sins from me.Do not seek to pardon all that I have done.Simply help to make others see,That through this I am made free.Pale Limine, repl.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/1044564/ Still lays the stop, silence maintains...A swift moving catalyst, alive in the darkpursued by the promise, betrayed by the clock.A memory fading as time would demand,A books concluded chapter, closed in my hand.An ethereal light seen far in the distanceA gap whose gamut is covered quickly with .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/1043653/ Going through the motions and loves of this life. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/1033430/ Thoughts about the expiration of things we know and love, in a place we feel we cannot escape. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/1032377/ You only live once, adventure calls if you listen close. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/1020031/ Feelings about faith http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/1019503/ Sticks and stones... mere child's play http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/994904/ Another sleepless night renders me nostalgic. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/994185/ An ode to October thirty-first. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/994179/ A love poem http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/991411/ A musing on corporate America http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/991073/ Finding love is as easy as unlocking your own cage, but at what cost? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/991060/ Love is eternal, not even the sting of death can tear true love apart. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/990651/ Opposites attract http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/990459/ Musings on the frailty and beauty of life http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/990376/ Sometimes I don't like the man in the mirror, but who is to blame for what we become? Not the creator, not the external influences on the man, but the man himself holds the key to what he will achieve http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/990370/ Dealing with a heart-wrenching time in my life http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/990355/ "Although I grew up in his shadow I never looked up to him once. Although we stood eye to eye I didn't see into his soul." http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/990317/ Watching the sky at my favorite time of year, I was overcome with the beauty and ambiance of the season. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/986951/ Before everything and after,he once swore to her they'd smile.Before the anguish there was laughter,but now it's been a while. Before the fighting and the lying,there was a house where love abode.Before the yelling and the crying,instead of tears compassion flowed.The years wore hard on her,as .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/986947/ An urging to push through the times when you are deceived by the person you trusted most. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/986370/ A love poem for fellow romantics... The right person is out there. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/986197/ The night can only last so long, if we can't look to the future than they've truly taken everything. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/986189/ Not finding sleep, I struggle to find my place in this world. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/985817/ A call to be more forgiving of others, and to never jump to judgement unjustly. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/985811/ The title says it all... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/985805/ A longing for that which mine eyes cannot see, nor skin feel, nor ears hear. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/985633/ A sonnet dedicated to those who have lost someone close to them but despite the sadness, still feel the presence of the loved one lingering, and protecting them. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/CrissHill/984824/