http://slow.writerscafe.org/Talbert The original writings of author Angela Talbert en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775997137 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 My take on a spoken word piece...inspired by Commons style influenced by clinging to art by the likes of Tupac and Saul Williams...the influence and passion that runs through the viens of individuals like these. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Talbert/292161/  A step closer I supposeno one knowswhere to find you.I suppose their calling off the search. I dropped my torch and left them,dropped it in the sand.They’ve lost their recompense,failed the orders of a man. I supposeno one knowswhere you are n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Talbert/274605/  Barefoot: Barefoot we stumble, never quite preparedand the outcome is, always changing our future stepsLike the roll of a dice, we never know which path to takeThen we find ourselves calling our best events destiny.    http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Talbert/234564/    I never called him DaddyDad was less heartbreakingfor two young children living so far away.Not many kids could say“My Dad is a fireman,a fire chief, a real life hero”.Still many had Christmas and birthdays,we had mail and you cannot hug mail.Still.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Talbert/232002/  Virginia sunlights the roadwayahead of mestrapped in my old NissanKelly Clarkson CDfifty something, cyclist,shirtless, tan andhair pulled backpasses swiftly by“Beautiful Disaster”up full blastmy little rocket shipescapedown whichever roadI choosepass.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Talbert/231828/  “Are you a fisherman?”I thought I saw youstanding there, waiting, rod in hand“Is that your line?”Bait attached, drifting,out to sea,barelybelowthe surface.“Are you hungry?”Or do you play for sport?“I could have sworeI heard yo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Talbert/231611/ This is a song...LYRICS http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Talbert/227243/  I see him there  on a distant branch   and through the air     I hear his chants a chirping high above the breeze a cry that echoes through the trees, I may not gather every note, I ma.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Talbert/209648/