http://slow.writerscafe.org/Lore The original writings of author Lore en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776033717 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 I've been having trouble getting this published. It's been sitting in my journalism teacher's inbox, despite promising me she'd help me. So i'm goingto post my findings, my life story here. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Lore/1022356/ We all wonder what happens after death, Are you satisfied?Or was it just all blackness, The second after you died?  The first memories are the worstWhen you’re plunged into it, unrehearsed. Though we grow and live,those memories remain.All .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Lore/1007422/ Journal Article for Women's Day http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Lore/939790/ What i wrote for a card handed out at my mom`s funeral. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Lore/725313/ Dear, Ms. "Strawberry" FieldsThe sweet smell of burning strawberry fields no longer permeate the bus. Now, if I want to escape from them I need to be like them. Otherwise, that irritation just gnaws away at my brain. I can’t stand the surrounding silence that greets me on most days. I can&rs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Lore/612907/ Inspired by Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Lore/589237/ i spent all night at the cemetaryaccompanying the dead. Every hour my emotions would varybut never that thought in my head.  i was wearing black jeans, slimand Converse All StarsComplimenting the scene, grimOnly sound in the distance, cars i was wearing hurtund.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Lore/486007/  Handprintsin the sand. The surface, Smooth to the touch, and always warm.  Alluringand the ocular sky, cloudless. Seemingly surrounding, lost in your deep azure. It never used to rain.Heaven's eyeseemed to constantly shin.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Lore/483305/  My breath smells like Skittles. That is how people describe me. I find the idea of breathing on my hand to smell my breath awfully disturbing, so I can’t  put my nose around how that would really smell like. If you haven't got the point yet, I eat a lot of skittles. Yet somehow I .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Lore/476297/ When fiIlled up with emotion they're so closed, always denying what they are feeling. Yet, you can see right through them! http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Lore/475251/  The rose was plantedAnd flourished into such beautyVibrant and full in colourStanding conspicuouslyIn a bed of other rosesIt welcomed the heat of the sunAnd when a breeze cameThe rose would move with itWavering in line with the other rosesWavering in fluent motionIt wasn&.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Lore/475243/ Journalists who do not back down when challenging the wrongs of our societyThe experienced poet who writes not only for himself but also for posterityThose who would rather die thirsty, than buy bottled waterThe mother who advises there is much more in life than beauty to her daughterThe tee.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Lore/474275/ notLovedby many toothbrushcleansedthe sweet tasteaway yet, the red coverof our novelwould never haveshut toothbrushYouhave your own too.   http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Lore/474185/  I remember that dayWhen she walked into the classroomIn the moments before I was feeling downBut seeing her rid myself of all that gloomSomething about those eyesHer eyes just left me in a tranceSomething in the way she moves,How is it possible to feel love at first glance?&n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Lore/426812/ Remember...Taking off my pantsand snapping my belt in the processtruggling to carry shopping bags ,along with my pants...THAT was not a successPaying the cheque with american moneyand telling the waitress we're from New York, and are sister and brothereven though just prior t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Lore/406193/              The man cowered behind a statue of a weeping Virgin Mary which was crying tears of blood for all the lost souls in the murky graveyard. Something was after him, he didn’t know what it was, and he didn’t want to. A.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Lore/405963/ This is a monologue poem set in a post-apocalyptic world, inspired by the novel, "The Road" by Cormac Mccarthy. It is through the eyes of a father as he journeys into the south with his son, surviving on love alone. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Lore/405187/  Anything that keeps me going through all the hard timesThat includes writing, especially rhymesOh, and of course, Music!I love the thought of love, yes, I’m a hopeless romanticGyro, Souvlaki, and Shawarma.Animals especially anything that barks, and Mya.The sights and sounds.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Lore/405123/ This is a strange experience.I woke up with this poem in my head, i guess because unconsciously, i think about, you know, while i am sleeping. The brain is a wonderous thing http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Lore/404676/   How almost everyone I meet, know, or know of smokesPeople who laugh at their own jokesEspecially when it’s not funny!People who only see the darkness in days that are sunnyPeople who litter, especially when in front of a garbage canDudes who talk tough but don&rsquo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Lore/404671/  Let me tell you something about me,As lately, people seem curious when they see me.Last week, a dude at a daycare said I’m a bad influence on the childrenBut honestly, would they even want to be me?Let me flat out say this, I’m weird, yes, I admit it,How can I not when .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Lore/399893/    I reminsce on my walk with mom, There was the The old man at the corner houseOn his porch drinking teaI’d wave at him,And he’d wave back at me. Helicopter leavesThere were hundreds at our feetI’d laugh as she threw them in th.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Lore/389033/ My Song, a bluesy song. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Lore/389032/  I’d rather be under rated then to be admiredI’d rather be hated by the masses then inspiredBecause what do you do,When you have no one to prove yourself to?Instead your shoulders are hurting from the pressureYou feel like you fail the people, when you fail in your futur.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Lore/331224/ Actually this was my first poem titled childhood which was the first half of a poem called life, but the second half of that poem, life, sucked, so i just kept the first half and called it childhood. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Lore/224692/  “BEHIND A SMILE” Fade In: KAYELL (VO)“Why am I trying to give, when no one gives me a try? Why am I fighting to live, if I’m just living to die?” Success, freedom, happiness…it all seems impossible when the odds are against you. Especi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Lore/224573/  I took my mom out for a walk, this afternoonit’s been a while since those strides around the blockAs a child we walked every dayBut time moved fast, and we grew apartToday, we passed the houseThat, that old man used to live inHe sat in his porch, drinking teaAnd I always .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Lore/221599/  Smoking spreads like cancer,Continually passing from youth to youth.Too many weak fools that cant say no as an answerYet many act tough and say they real, is this really the truth? Smoking is a trend, and a trend is followingDudes think it’s so tough and hotCan&rsquo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Lore/221584/  FADE IN INT. CAR-NIGHT DET. WILLIS(O.S.)Vampires; creatures that roam in the dark, feasting on the blood of the innocent, their only fear is the nights end into sunrise. With no heart beat, and no soul they do not regret, and the only way to kill them is a stake in the .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Lore/221575/  "A wretched soul, bruised with adversity. We bid be quiet when we hear it cry. "Ah, yes, gone is thy mother, gone is thy love. Is there no shine on me, from heavens eye above? Will I be forgiven for killing that w***e? Where is thy solitude, that which I came here for? They run ram.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Lore/221572/  She is wearing all black today, with matching nail polish. Her trench coat leaves a trail behind her as she walks against the persistent wind. The rain is falling hard, and the umbrella that once protected me slowly disappears along with her until all I can see is a black speck through the h.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Lore/221570/              The man cowered behind a statue of a weeping Virgin Mary which was crying tears of blood for all the lost souls in the murky graveyard. Something was after him, he didn’t know what it was, and he didn’t want to. A.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Lore/221566/