http://slow.writerscafe.org/abazian The original writings of author A.r. Bazian en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776009768 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 There are defining moments when the blossoms bloom in spite of the wind, the reeking dryness of the ice cold plies of travelling light amid concrete, in speeding flight to grasp a sparkle of light, or a quick breeze of air, before their spines crumble and the petals back in despair!These are the mom.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/1503006/ It is summer yet, and the last roses fade to gloom,in the searing heat of our midnight silence,and the parting shadows of a distant moon,in this darkness,the night is clearest than parting day,the last rose of summer; limp...like silliness of our dismay!by:A.r. Bazian http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/1402622/ This night I wake, to musics aloof,so distant in the wonders of passion,and so eager, that yet, amused,I say,I've found here so little, compassion!It saddens me when I stare out into, the vastness of our despairfor I find no shelter, in the wilderness here, and I seekth for none out there!The nights.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/1402621/ what a hanging vision that lingers 'round the bend,a fading figure in the darkness, of wounds to never mend...and a melody from far away, humming a song from yesterday',one song may not differ, but many a tune would stray away!for when it rises, out of blue, there will be no singing then,nor pi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/1105941/ A poem i wrote for the contest: "Up for a challenge?" " http://www.writerscafe.org/contests/Up-for-a-challenge%3F/46957/ " http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/1064501/ I still wake every morning to find myself dangled in mine own breath; this that you have cast upon my living. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/1063689/ I may give into the shade; the waiting hours of sunset braid... one autumn evening dress, and all this soon shall fade. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/1062656/ You may find yourself lost, in the bitterness of a beautiful dream, force not the waking scream; the melody will chant us out of place, and the fiddler will play our scheme! http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/1062650/ kindly, play me the songs of hope? i may need some passion play, and just a bit for a hanging rope! http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/1062644/ The evenings trot so vividly posing to the noising strokes of the brown fiddler's brush; forth to paint a new dream for the restless! http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/1062637/ The echo still pounds down onto the ceilings; wide based feelings, detached from the vain faces of sanity, And denounced by reason: Dementia! still singing to the pace of the galloping fiddles, in the stream of the night!  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/1062626/ Once into the distance,a some of times too soon!what little of my presistence,left...has vapoured to mere words o' fume!Thou... art my waking dream!listen to mine heart,listen as i scream, pounding against yer walls...and to my thought,i pray that you listen, as the waking evening falls,much wi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/1062131/ SAD FORECAST! http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/1049217/ After the rain has fallen,and is washed away -Our Love,some scattered words forbidden...for they will never come above! so littering the gloom,of midsummer bloom,to anguish, mistrust, and dust! and i see there treason,and lies for no reason,of passions soon forgot! bonds were made,to .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/1009834/ untie the wielding shields that hold the wings of the barricade together, and reach into the core of the man i am. and when you do, care for the shades that you illuminate through the darkness within. and when you do, bare that this cornered child is tender, behind the rock solid fences that you lai.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/1009830/ I came across a lonesome face,among the figures stuck in traffic,Someone there, somewhere,Longs for a distant place...A place, of dreams and magic. this ageing scent,Of dying breath,And history,Is just too tragic! The wandering braids,Scout the town,Hoping, things will come around, As.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/1009828/ behold before your wretched selfthe vicious vanity, and welfare string.as played upon the little ref,and to the people's minds would sing. up in the heavens, down here below,the mobs of state, and the Gods we knowthe hooded mischief, in the name of goodwould loot around, take all they could!&nb.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/1009825/ the sunlight braids rained onto the dusty folds of our parking-lot-like schemes, and filled the gapping leaps between our sentenced deaths with the occasional intervals of blindness; lighting the path torrents for black light on black, and the little hopes still held back.pocket poles and bullet col.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/1009822/ O' yellow, fellow, mourning braids, come, do dance along the whalling end. While the pretty, many, serving maids, attending to -merily, the humming wind! Lest parting longwards, O' fair daylight, and golden shrews; the sun, O' gathered fortunes, gond and done,&nbsp.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/862872/ Do we forgive ourselves,So often a day....That all our dreams,Bestowed ar't through? Regardless now,Of all the common delights,And the blasphemous pleasures,In a long day's night! All these rafetting portions of my memory,Merely ar't the solemn shades of you! By:The Black Iris, of The.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/862814/ When I'm all alone, Wandering in the rain, Figures cold, of stone, I wonder, If its worth the pain! Now that all is gone, Cloacked now, and done, Where do we go from here? Candles lit 'til dawn... To scare away my fear! Little is left, Now that .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/862787/ I am sill here...And I still sound through the muddy plies of your illusion.still, even now, do I soundthrough the crooked void of your presence...I am the change!and you, dearest mine, still soundso colourfully through the mundane madness of the hour.You are the war I wage.We are the frailty of des.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/862781/ And in the Shades...Lingered a memory!Under the dancingbraids...Of one morning sun!There...Stood an aging log...With years undone!Where we loved andlaughed...Lost and won!All that we did,Was there and gone! But in the memory,Laid at hand.... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/807018/ All within the dyed robes of rhyme, and subtle dispatches of sinful woe... enchanted in wisdom, a pilgrim's trot, waging and waling at the spot. Fringing at the hands that drew his fate, ever so lonesome in his wait. With scattered fears roaming earth, in search of.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/714459/ A Universe, in place.Maybe I've taken more time, - than would youto ponder and consider...for perhaps I do!to learn the probable outcomeof time, through and throughA sacred Geometry of fortunea forbidden set of plans!words and world put in tuneand miracles put in clans!For I stand parallel.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/635206/ An Ode to the late visitor http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/627162/ words to hearts be wed... on stones, carved in led!and as my words demolishlike castles, within the vague mists of time,there is an ending, open...to a story of mine,and as i confirm;my standing and grounda fairly surprising gesturecomes out of soundthis story i toldcomes so out of rhyme;so out.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/611341/ p { margin-bottom: 0.08in; }pre.cjk { font-family: "DejaVu Sans",monospace; }A Word Of RejectionI swear Allegiance, only to whom i chooseand to the mater of where i belon', that too, is my choosing alone...for before thee I stand, barren, of that which you accuse.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/610292/ pre.cjk { font-family: "DejaVu Sans",monospace; }p { margin-bottom: 0.08in; }just a pour in rhymewell, these from within, as those without a shelter...word bombard a basement,well as without a filterbut to sense me beyond the very writes of handyou must rid of your shield.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/609966/ p { margin-bottom: 0.08in; }Walking To Our Very Own Songbehold before thee...the glorious might of manhe, who thereto this very seconddoes all he canswollen...as a b*****d's most worsened dressof vanity, monstrosityand casting stressbehold before m'sel.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/609949/ as i cross the landscapes,gray of time and pain...the same old scenario;the same old rain!caress the violets and...slowly whither away;nothing unusual, nothing's changeda feeling mutual, visions derangedall away... fall awaypardon my senses,pardon my weightpardon me...and my departure...i'm running .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/558635/ O, the gracious pardonsdo give leave for weary sin...or do make way for lovers departedsolely baring the weight withinstrangely thought one man can face a crisisbut one man does all he can...until his foolishness arises...surely you'd think, one would've had a plan!O, how folly&n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/554952/ http://www.reverbnation.com/artist/song_details/1246301 Listen to this song while you read it... Irish Rain http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/554940/ Diaries Of AnImmigrant Soul, Pt. 19: Mad Dog... in love! Forcefullyscattered agroundand shatteredbefore the making...dreams ofromance they seem to bring us downand heartsthat trouble us with the aching, last escortedshadows of a smileto where our.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/550735/ Inspired By; Tate Morgan http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/548619/ a childish teenage sorta poetry... angry as s**t... fought with my what they would call a family! A lot of cursing http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/543542/ you dont know how it feels...when the final leaves of autumn fall...and spring unveils a new start...someone comes along...you can feel the revival of your heartremember the old jester?the one that slipped and died?the one we used to tell our jokes to...and enjoy a laugh i criedthe on.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/523432/ Stained glass masquerade inspired by; Jennifer Lilliston Walkeras i take a look outside...into emptiness...i find it... somehow the same! endless and vacant... like the echo of my name. a memory perhaps, fading into flames; unlike these -everlasting- monuments of sorrow; that may by time last, jus.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/522978/ The million things I want... The million things I need!More that i let go...The more my anguish i feed!All the things I have...of all that I bleed...I got most of the things I want, but nothing I have; I need!By;The Black Iris, of The Luminous Imperious http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/507418/ the days and nights...cluster like rotten dustmistakes from timesof youthful lustfor there's a change, that even with regret,cannot be undone.like the lonely and the fearless...from glories lost and goneand as the rains pour to cleanse our path...of reckless deeds and scars of wraththe nights unfold.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/506201/ in the night...tucked under the blankets of fateas the winds blow...into the hours of late...memories are passing by,silence... my dearest friendthe pale faces never wash awayand the nightmares never endfor when days are getting old...and autumn sings its song...the very pages of pain unfold...from .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/506199/ like these very same moments...within the widowed laughters that i cast...a break of habit does appear...when the sails port at lastthe cry of despair, comes mute and awarehollow as the soundings of night...like the echoes of dawn, awaited so longcome the tears soothing and brightfor .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/496371/ a poem about humanity... as i drank! http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/479382/ Ney,do not leave me hereforgotten and forlornalong my fear...take me with ye...where the ground's green and fortune;   do appearwhere the showers may wash me guiltand the sounds of love;   would i hearwhere dances the night;   at the set of dayca.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/457768/ A word on "Individuality" http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/432803/ lost in the black folds of my mindlook closely for beforehand may belook closely, what do you see?a jester dancing, in an empty roomin shaded corners, of faded gloomthe curfew tolls again,and the clown is put to sleepthe silence is deafening,through the howls of night we weepfor .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/411026/ thy heartless be murdered...struck down, as death shall i bemore wanting you werefor unfortune to seewhat product thy hath craftedand made out of me!cry for your jesters, and courtsJust, as they always claimevil commanded, likes made are the sameas for thus goes, unpunished lords.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/384661/ Drop, drop, drizzles and Pours, What of its puddles and pools’ Be it disaster or joyful strafe Should we waltz for to rhyme? Cry, run, and laugh we are out of time Give mind not to the jackal in sight But hath lingered forth in darkened light A haven to me, my mind has been .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/384626/ the book now discloses fortha chapter of midnight's painamidts moments that fashionably unfoldto the crashing drops of acid rainthe story of hollow sceptersand empty fears begins againas the words fade and wash outthe spirits only ravel and shoutyou... are mother nature's sona .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/384618/ A poem for my Late Brother http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/abazian/380556/