http://slow.writerscafe.org/vanessapavelock The original writings of author Vanessa Pavelock en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776006513 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 The soprano sax sings out “Summertime”Red pencil skirts and scotch circulate the space like notes to the song Someone in the kitchen is humming along But someday they’ll be the one singingWings spread wide towards the sky. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vanessapavelock/2123595/ Don’t lie, you’re obsessedwith capturing momentsInto a 4x4 frame.Instant. Gratification.   You have no time.No time for cooking.No time for family.No time for novels. Sparknoting your own life.   If I told you a poe.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vanessapavelock/2051190/ Oh honey, you must be from New York We don't double swipe our metro cards here http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vanessapavelock/1819278/ The Dolce Patricia upon your lipstastes just like the Guiness we shared that September afternoon in Trolley SquareOnly richer, finer, And all the more sweet http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vanessapavelock/1722535/ I am the master of my fate. I am the captain if my soul. The kayaksinks and weare left floatingWithout lifejackets,waiting forsomeone toslow downhis speedboat and letdown theladder. I gain the strength in my forearms to life my body up and on to the top of the kayak. I .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vanessapavelock/1722530/ You are a Sunday morning mimosa--Dolce Patricia champagne,blood orange juice and grenadine.You are a sweet sip from a tall glass, after years of drinking whiskeyfrom red solo cups.  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vanessapavelock/1538072/ I collect seashell memoriesin littered coffee cups along the shorethat bore me,pushing methroughthe wide waveliquid chaosof the rip tide current. I swim in adiagonalfashion, trying tobreak freefrom the wild undertowuntil finallyI am release.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vanessapavelock/1200919/ The kayaksinks and we are left floatingin lifejackets,waiting for someone toslow down his speed boat and let down theladder http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vanessapavelock/1189982/ I havebeen folded into too many paper squares.I amcovered with messy creases, and car grease from your unwashed hands.   http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vanessapavelock/1188652/ HereI am at the endofthe Island, sittingwithmy feet danglingover forbidden bluffs. Ilook ahead to see thatthereis nowhere elsetogo from here--nodirtpath or signs.  Yetbelow I hear reckless wavesmeet a rocky shore,anda sailor whispers,   .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vanessapavelock/1188618/ The student bodygathered outside that winter nighton one of the windiest days ofthe yearand we held candles in paper cupsbetween the spaces in our cotton glovesThe wind blewand half the flames went out, but theydid not remain.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vanessapavelock/1185678/ My first try at slam poetry with the prompt "Why do I write Poetry?" Any slammers have advice? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vanessapavelock/1185323/ daring fingersventure intothe wild firetracing thecontour ofeach flametickling thestomach ofmidnight passionyou pull awayjust in thebrink of timeblack smokerises into theopen skyas blue burntflesh pours downlike confetti  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vanessapavelock/1181719/ I undress my soulremoving eacharticle of clothingone by oneand dropping it to the flooron laundry day I never know which pair of jeans are cleanand whichare dirty so I separatethe darksfrom the lights and the delicatesfrom the hardy  load them into the washer and wait for each cycle of.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vanessapavelock/1180565/ sitting in the background of a 4x6 photograph was a man silently screaming for help ashe sipped on burninghot tea and regrets. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vanessapavelock/1171985/ an acrostic poem http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vanessapavelock/1165458/ you are an epigramrough hook through trout lips catch and releasefisherman http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vanessapavelock/1165209/ she is a racecarpretty young thing2003 Audired frame new rimscraigslist boughtsecondhandmusic blastingdisaster http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vanessapavelock/1164577/ Fresh vodka lingerson your roughpalate--sandpaperon a weatheredplank of wood http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vanessapavelock/1153116/ cotton onesiescozy bootiescribs linedin down featherblanketsspoonfed moralssafety scissorssippy cupswith leak-prooftopscold morningsempty bedstraces ofwhere heslepthopeful wishinglonely nightsbrowsing alonein groceryshopsPlease, no more. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vanessapavelock/1153109/ A villanelle from an anti-formalist. uh oh. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vanessapavelock/1153102/ Yousink yourroughteeth intomyneck, markingyourterritory onmycold canvasasblood rushes toallthe wrongplaces,and yourmuscularframehoversovermymalnourishedbody.You stareatyour newly foundprey--thehungry,helplessslab o.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vanessapavelock/1152968/ Last summerwe tiptoedacross thesedriftwood panels.Barefoot, butcarefully alertwe’d watch aspoison ivyclung ontoboth sides ofthe boardwalk,embracingsplintered curvesbetween eachset of three.Today, I stepstraight up tothe salt water,and dip myleaves into theocean’s coldarms. I look downand.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vanessapavelock/1152964/ Every night at 12,I pour myself a largeglass of Jose Cuervo,find an empty seat atthe kitchen table, andwatch as ice cubesdisappear into thedead sea. I think backto days spent on theSouth Fork--theway it felt to lie on myback, and float aroundlike a sailboat in thebay, fixed in one placebut always sw.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vanessapavelock/1152963/ Tonight, let’s forget themerciless February hail--ice pellets that fall from thesky like civil war bullets,the snow-coated mountaintop we woke up upon, theheartless lover who fledbefore a steamy morningshower and some slow-pacedconversation over coffeeand a home cooked breakfast.Tonight, let&r.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vanessapavelock/1152960/ We used to walk underthe tunnel at Fire Island,yelling nonsensical noisesjust to feel the vibrationsbounce back and tickle oursun-kissed ears--souvenirjars filled to the brim withmisplaced sand grainsand crushed seashells.Now, we skip the MisterSoftee’s ice cream conewith chocolate sprinkleson.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vanessapavelock/1152957/ Soap bubbles cling to the hairs on his chest as the steamy waterrinses them away. They try tohold on, but cannot. One by one, they disappear in the streamsurrounding their naked feet. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vanessapavelock/1119442/ In the deepest pockets of thewoods, a twisterbrews, threateningthose who dwell in-land. Creatures flee from carefully chosen hiding spots as their panic-stricken eyes sneak one final glance at all they’re leaving behind. Still, nestled in a lover’s cocoon, two caterpillars lie perfectly .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vanessapavelock/1117756/ From the rightmost corner of my eye to the left, I see the glorious and thehideous-- the triumphant, warm victories won by everyday heroes who can barelyget all they need to survive. I see the man standing on the platform alone, an awkward grin across&nbs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vanessapavelock/1117074/ Beneath the surface of the ocean,past the thoroughly-explored shallowwaters we casually pass on through, there is a mysterious realm, unconqueredand untouched by man, carefully hidden and preserved. Far below the distancehis destructive limbs may reach, in aplace where no one can toss arou.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vanessapavelock/1117061/ City buildings lean forward to listen,but they cannot hear the whisperednothings you tossed around the nightbefore--mi mariposa, mi pajarito, butnever simply beautiful. Taxis beep,tourists oo and ah wildly, drills andcranes echo through the Big Applebrigade, as men with hard hats fix thebroken strea.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vanessapavelock/1115975/ The sea turtle glides through a black sea,surrounded by a world unknown and untouched by man, and in that moment his flesh stings from the saltwater-- thewounds beneath his outer shell revealed. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vanessapavelock/1115123/ The snow leopard lurks through thebushes,Eyeing each and every creature thatdares tocross her path. Still, her icy blueeyes remainfixed on the prize until a man creepsup behind,and slowly strips away at her delicatehide.   http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vanessapavelock/1115119/ Warm dropletsspill slowlydown herthroat, collidingwith a sea ofsaliva--sheholds herdangerousnew addictionbetween spaces inher smile,and lifts herneck back toswallowthe fleetingpleasure ofsoft daggerson scartissue http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vanessapavelock/1104623/ One day I sat down and drew linesBetween the marks on my flesh, eachThrobbing slightly with the soft pressOf my fingertips, and just like starsThey formed patterns on my canvas,Marvelous constellations thatMan will never quite understand. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vanessapavelock/1104615/ Copyright by the author 2012Until We Meet Again: a ten-minute play by Vanessa PavelockCharacters:Dino, Johnny’s father, mid-80sSarah, Johnny’s mother, early 80sSetting: Suburban New York, a cozy kitchen that has been lived in for decadesTime: Modern DayThe Story:In the suburbs of New Yor.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vanessapavelock/1102186/ A short Poem/ Definition of what Duende means to me http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vanessapavelock/1102055/ Another eerie sestina! http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vanessapavelock/1101874/ Just an Eerie Sestina http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vanessapavelock/986223/ The Tale of A Woman's Revenge http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vanessapavelock/986219/