http://slow.writerscafe.org/Paris The original writings of author Eve en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776054621 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 It's not like the third floor had expected her.She, with the sweet/mean taleoften confusing wrong with insane, both being equallybrilliant as night and day.The closest she ever came to buttery syrup a fore that datewas with a Panamanian who hadthe common sense to equip a rain jac.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/1441658/ From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/1441270/ Sometimes I still awake with the sound of the wind changing my direction like the sound of a rooster in the dark light before dawn.When destiny is taking shape and forming into dayand it's hatching dreams.I can still hear my father on the John Deeretaking out his frustrations in a long str.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/1439079/ I came upon a funny Octopus when the tide was running lowshe sat upon the Ocean flank killing a sweater in the snow."How is this possible?" I asked my speech seemed rather slowfor when she stared up at me her cheeky eyes appeared to know."It doesn't keep me warm anymore, doesn't have nearl.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/1438938/ I think at first I didn't suffer enoughhaving been new to love and mirrors.Odem tats, the dish is they are charged opposites, like twotied balloons on a pin board,only slightly apart that somehowgain an opposite electromagneticcurrent while your back is turned. and you glance over you.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/1092252/ and not always female. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/1049115/ reflection on friendships http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/1043138/ I found this poem on an old site we used to post on, it's one of mine from when I first began writing in about 2004 http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/1041183/ Thank you Wikipedia. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/1038813/ There comes a time in ones lifewhen the transient being has to take time to understand the realm and nature from which love is created.I lost touch with that realm,There is something I must sayto the Angel for whatever reason, we are sisters in love... My adoration for what I bel.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/1033596/ DioramaSunlight slats through the prison bars, guitar strings trippinga sad melody inside the black box, through the window I can see the trailor park sceneacross the way, the scene is surreal. A desolate worn black shoerests all alone on the sidewalk as if lost by a tragic .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/1011826/ All the words in the worlddaybreak into precipitancyfat gusto skylinesskyjackers making sexy sounds of soul arousalexcited, heedful, knowing,avuncular shout outswarning, daring the truthto the benighted and benevolentlove all your tomorrowshidden away todaywith passionate blissfor all to become.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/1011690/ Bye Turtle, I love you! http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/995010/ There is an age old flutedripping it's musicfrom my heart into the air.Soothing me, I see the notesand I try to capture them with my tongue,every note, seems to formwords into loss, into loveinto unknowing, into knowingand round again, picking me up..up..then down again.swinging back and f.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/993263/ "how they all seem to fade away" http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/989345/ Today I brushed the remnants of youoff my soul, swept the invalid pieces  of imposed inadequacy under my bedas if they never existed.Forgave my canvas for the juxtapose;maybe I can't paint myself into a safeplace to lay your cause, though It wasnot from the lack of honest endeavor,It was too ha.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/988080/ Bending lowinto something bright and unknownhurling wild mustang flamerefusing to be owned yetall dying to be lovetwirling so fast the groundreaches up to hold youwhirling so fast you can't even feel itmaking me into cotton candy, a small bump on the side of oblivion all from a hell I thought I unde.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/986590/ To mirrors and wide eyed innocence. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/985031/ Our earth is a creature of the nightin the morning she closes her eyeand rests through the heat of dayas we buzz through her, into herlike grazing flies only occasionallylooking up at her cloud strewn lid.But at night, she comes alivewhen the sun sets, she awakensand lifts her dying eyewhen the dome.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/981472/ "The devil you know" http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/973441/ Cause and effect http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/973367/ I am smothered in the filmof winter, I look at my imagein the restroom glass and tryto imagine it's cascade intobrittle white.I almost welcome the snow,as opposed to the mud ofeveryday life,Mud films my house,murky in uncertainty, but thesnow is cathartic, althoughit blankets with heavy confusion,lo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/832470/ Half MagicI am one half of thatmagic...One half the handsthat explored,marveled, in the warmsmooth feel of you.Barry White wouldcroon in thebackground,if he could feel thispurr inside my *velvet.I am one half the lookin your eyes asyou smile down at mein cat like dominance.I am one half the sighas y.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/830455/ "human behavior" http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/830446/ 'To the veterans of love and war" http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/823382/ "Nothing is written in stone when you have really great sandpaper" http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/810094/ Love is a lighthouse http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/763300/ philosophy http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/759381/ Freedom of speech, God bless America http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/758907/ Ah the 80's... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/758431/ Human behavior http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/756866/ O...such remorse; my Gomorrah, whittled away to ancient gray;whose loving pillarwas made to bloom in stones.but for a glance...in yester way, of wicked hearts in harmony.O... restless rhythmmy tireless symphony;a merchant's penceof reckless proximity.O...heady scent.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/724943/ questioning...Tornados http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/712286/ Suggestive, nude art http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/357874/ She smells of fresh white linencotton sheets in celestial bower, deep seated in cerulean midnight,fashionably draped and jaded.He hides her in his fortress.Where she glistens by the lightof the moon and in his arborsin auspicious afterglow… She stirs; and hestops breathing... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/353130/  Delusions of grandeur.At 10:45 a.m. she's crushing a mentholbetween her fingers and pouringBailey's into her coffee,biting back the smokeof another morning.October is bringing 47 univitedand the Cancer baby has no hairdaring her to feel sorry for herself.There is activity i.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/330131/ "abortion, graffic, maybe offensive, caution" http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/315018/ Edge of Autumn Category: Writing and Poetry I heard your voiceechoing from the wombof canyons, murmuringmy name.Winding rock against earthen bowlbeneath the grind of grain.You tried to pin meunder your fingersa stormy sea of mercuryand blame.I held you moments beyond.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/305739/ Good bye Norma Jean http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/292652/ tragedy is never reaching potential http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/264837/ "aging" http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/259188/ ? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/254047/ Cocoons http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/250067/ Perfect. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/246381/ scared little bunny http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/244366/ April's fool  It’s not the end of the World,no armageddon came or wenteverything is just the same as it was before... the universal  epiphany my splice of time, my mold of hour,my truth will wear himMy, My, My...his face weavedinto every .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/243987/ Conversation http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/221368/ Rimbaud and Verlaine http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/221146/ Rest well this Spring, and be remembered. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/209403/ Chewing on love http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Paris/208757/