http://slow.writerscafe.org/Celyn The original writings of author celyn en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776109971 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 If you want somethingI will bite.Hi.Apparently I'm just fish in a barrel at this point...and there is no wordplay here at the end of the line.It's just another rhyme,another place, another timewhere I'm still words for you. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/2845963/ It is quiet when silence becomes a soundand the moon stretches gently  through the blinds.Everything is different but that is what makes this minute the same as the next…  you get taken back, taken forward,until you swing  .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/2468361/ Of course there is       a       storm, when I think             of you crashing over the mountains, making   divots in the morning    &nbsp.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/2468359/ I never stopped writing, I just stopped showing other people. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1957704/ Let's imagine submarines, and youon a bike, your feet on the pedals wheeling at a perfect speed.Somebody tipped the balance of other people's needs, sowrite about this:Write about yourselfhoming a rented bicyclein your heart.You couldn't leave it behindbut you couldn't get it to start.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1782261/ Submarine coat,on a bike you floatyour feet over the pedalswheeling at a perfect speed.Somebody tipped the balance of other people's needs, sowrite about this:Write about yourselfhoming a rented bicyclein your heart.You wouldn't leave it behindbut you couldn't get it to start.You needed to push.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1782244/ The red spread on the carpetand you found your reflection in the poollooking somewhere else.The animal is dead.Your hands shook like you were at seaas you pressed them into the flesh.You were supposed to meet a friend that daybut you couldn't bring yourself to leave the house.All night you will hold.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1770243/ You bleedand then you know yourself.You kill your foodwith five knucklesand see your fleshy condition.You limit your existence.You squander your touch.You slip down cavernsothers have walked into the ground.You slip, like timeslips through dashes, number, shapes,until you can't pour a bowl of muesli.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1770242/ Iremember when your shelves went bareandposters stripped themselvesfrom the wall -curlingup at the sea theboats fell onto the floor.Doyou remember?Iknow you do…  butdo you remember thefoamy brown cushio.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1770236/ I knew this place as squash on the bedside table,drinking from the tap at the pub,hot water bottle cooling secretly under the covers.I knew us in rain,your saliva in the bathroom sink,the sea washing paint from the railings.I knew me as scripts of tears,lemons squeezed between your fingers,blood cha.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1723404/ There's nothing like poetry,I've found.You write what you know,and I haven't written anything for a long time now.I just need a 'hello' on the bridge,a pregnant friend,a life imagined somewhere else,and my hands will itch again.Fly your helicopter heart into minea thousand more timesand maybeI will .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1723393/ I miss writerscafe. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1527305/ I am rooted beneath the skin. I am clean,a tomato plant wrappingaround your soft neck.After centuries of 'but do you really mean…?'left you unimpressed,we poured a kettle of raininto metal flasksand tipped overtomato plants and teabags.And I am growingstill, obsessed with .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1371279/ Dear AberystwythI have tried writing about youbut you're just too goddamn beautifulthe way your hair curls behind the shorelineand the thick rims of cliffsidethat frame a face of water and a body of landI have walked the length of your limbsthat stretch into the seaand muscles tensed into hillsI hav.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1319924/ i live in this placein animal sweaters and ridiculeintrovert, subvert, advertpumped-up versetrying to escape sentences that start with 'I'and end in 'myself'i wish her head was glassi want to see insidespend mornings fantasising man's endswinging punches at robotsliving out of leaky shackshalf-made .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1318243/ King ShulgiHere is your left arm, Shulgi.It is curved as though flexing its musclesto bear the weight of the rockyou were cast in.I could not see you in blood now,lifting that hand to harm,and I cannot hear, sucked from that stony mouth,the cries of war -of your f.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1281097/ NabonidusFather, I placed these things for you,rattled through the brittle and the preserved.I broke each one from my heart,that sore muscle,because you have always performed miracles--you loved me before I knew how to speak.And knowing you traced your fingers along the Ku.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1280218/ AntiquarianMy father had collected most of it, of course,but I held in my hands often enoughthe dusty matter--smaller than fingernails some of it,fondly rubbed away from the rest of earth.He brushed knots out of worldsas sand gathered slowly in his bonesi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1279547/ AeonI have stopped writing drunk,said the drunk.Two ciders and it's all you.Two wines and it's fine as long as I don't mention… (you.)I have stopped drunken whining,agonising,over thoughts of…well, I think you already know, I've probably already drunkenly f.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1274414/ stay youthe cambridge companion to forgetting aboutyou, if it existed i would have dog eared every pageinverted the spine in every waybookmarked chapters on the total eradication of…what was it again?kneaded my memory into a doughy mashof a life lived mostly with/in contentmen.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1271481/ You Make Me Feel RidiculousI felt it in my nose...but what a ridiculous place                                to feel things.The cold sweat of longingpunched me         in the n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1270985/ SpecksI mustn't think of it -the longest stretch of your skin                over my…my brain is wandering;it writhes beneath the lens,calibrates our measurementsand travels once again towards          &nbsp.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1269890/ we shorten your name in bookshopsin our quiet conversations about those mountainous linesteetering on madnessbut not quiteand once we even saw youwooly hat and jogging shortspanting up the hillshe thought you a boyflat chested in your black mackonly the street lamps to show.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1269360/ Because days are fullof other peopleand, the living room light broken,starlings screaming beneath the pier,that yawning rhythm of need--beat, beating, into our long journeying,our walking, our drivingtowards the grey jaws and the chasmsof our nothing.not touching.why are .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1267951/ Some nights the sea beckons meShe twists in her sleep,like a babyswaddled in everything grimy,but I am still a young child too,holding nothingin my arms but the cardigan you knit mefor my seventh birthday.I was old enough thento understand possession -not everything I love is m.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1264557/ Cat HairLike starlings circling the spotsof rocks beneath the pier,we danced, walked, then, in lower registers,we talked about what we don't have:children.And your kindness, here and everywhere, and in everything - it grows on trees. I just wanted to hold .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1263505/ The Post-Degree SlumpDays go by in nothingness; short walks along the seaside,a peach pit, a rustler's palm, mars' gleaming monoclestrung lopsided in the sky.They have letters after their names now,but our words are only formed and stuttered into glass bottles.And we spend e.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1262477/ To Emily,when I think about this properly, I know it is creepy. When I think about how I have spent my life, I know it is not normal. So I try not to think about it too much. But I have to tell you - you are in everything. You are engulfed by the raging waves of this stormy sea and you are running.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1261049/ You met me on the backs of wandering elephants,moon crushed beneath those mammoth feet,and clouds stomped into my heart.I woke earlier with your hands shaking,a whole ecosystem thriving behind our teeth -the koi in the bath could not surprise me,and in puddles, shining,I had to tip.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1260557/ Times New RomanWe live in shadebroken down windows broken down daysone person is always the tokenand the other is always an arcade. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1259120/ ClickI wanted that wall to my face--pushed my palms into the gritand felt like I was brick;solid, steady, yours.Then the lightbulb flicked.Time slows down when you're walkingfor your morning cup of coffee,doesn't it?As I am floundering,a strip of red sore flesh run down my .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1259109/ I am rooted beneath the skin, clean,a tomato plant wrappingaround your soft neck,centuries of 'but do you really mean…?'that left you unimpressed,a kettle of rainpoured into metal flasksand tipped overtomato plants, or teabags.And I am growingstill, obsessed with .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1257186/ NineI want to walk into the sea;let it devour me,and the shore--curled like a babyin its stormy mother's arms.I want to stalk the mountains,and shout your namebetween the trees and out over the wavesand the houses.I've never been religious,but I want to prayfor you, .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1254670/ White HareI can't not write when there are words to be written about you,and poems and half-rhymes tied to the tips of my fingersthat waste on the handle of my toothbrush, and the lock of our front door.If I measure myself only by what you see of me, (and I do.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1254248/ the heart is a lonely hunter - carson mccullersthis is how you lose her - junot diazimportant artefacts and personal property from the collection of lenore doolan and harold morris including books street fashion and jewellery - leanne shaptonanna karenina - leo tolstoythe end of the story .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1252039/ Beside the concrete stairs we eat our lunch. I have last night's takeaway pizza - Domino's of course - and Emily is devouring some sort of congealed mush passing itself off as a salad from the union shop. She occasionally showers the bench with scraps of lettuce and flecks from dried fruits and nuts.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1249334/ Beside the concrete stairs we eat our lunch. I have last night's takeaway pizza - Domino's of course - and Emily is devouring some sort of congealed mush passing itself off as a salad from the union shop. She occasionally showers the bench with scraps of lettuce and kernels of digested dried fruit.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1249208/ I've always known David to mutter quietly to himself. In our little box of an office he has nested in the back left-hand corner of the room where his murmurs rival the low hum of the water cooler. My other colleagues have yet to use the 'c' word to describe him (they're much too polite) but personal.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1248324/ they believe me to be crazy--i clutch the bird's egg too close to my chest.it is already crackedand trembling furiously in my palm,magnificent, frightened, breathingi want to love it -to soothe its sores, to stroke its shell.i want to speak in soft voices -to tweet quietly into her.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1247375/ SalientsTherian, I pulled the earth up for you.I cast ink pools over countriesand bore the dregs of my heart into that entia--a peach pit, a rustler's palm, mars' gleaming monoclestrung lopsided in the sky. But these fields crash like white caps across the retina,incendiary, in .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1243908/ you are in everythingbut mostly the moonyou have always been in the moonand the lights at nightbaring their faces to stumbling bottle rocketspainting the floor with vomityou are in every mispronunciationthe shortening of wordsquick cut syllablesfalling fearlessly from loose tongues.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1243903/ Home of the Jurassic CoastAlong the Cobbbare and sure-footed--unlike Louisa--your path led us to the rocksand the waves washing words away.We left our lives in fossils on the next beachas strangers pickedand crumbled apart the slateto unearth the/our growth rings--one, two, s.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1232253/ SalientsI pulled the earth up for you--cast ink pools over countriesand bore the dregs of my heart into that entia--a peach pit, a rustler's palm, mars' gleaming monoclestrung lopsided in the sky. But there are fields that crash like white caps across the retina,incendiary, in t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1226936/ SalientsTherian, I pulled the earth up for you.I cast ink pools over countriesand bore the dregs of my heart into that entia--a peach pit, a rustler's palm, mars' gleaming monoclestrung lopsided in the sky. But these fields crash like white caps across the retina,incendiary, in .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1223684/ After the blood was flushedfrom my chattering lips down and swirling in the drainit stained my jeansand those same two handsthat washed awaythe passing of time with a little bit of detergent wrung the neck of each word wedged at the bottom of my fis.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1223105/ I haveread collections of poetry--plumbscomposedofperfectly formed pebbles of observation.And Ihave read othersmade outof nothing but debris,rottingfruit, jagged cliff-side. Yoursare always honeycomb. Youcreate labyrinthine words thatfrom adistancemake themost remarkabl.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1216984/ i have read collections of poetrycomposed of perfectly formed pebbles of observation,and i have read others made out of nothing but debris, rotting fruit, jagged cliff-side.yours is always a honeycomb.you create labyrinthine words that from a distance make the most remarkabl.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1216981/ Imitation is FlatteryI started wanting words when I was twelve -they burned into the puppy fat landscape of my thighsand jangled about the waistlike a studded belt.I collected small vowels then,and stored them for hopeless days.I used to roll them between my fingers like coinsbut t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1214767/ Salt AirII had not believed in one like you                 --carried along                               North Parade in your small brown hood.It is a quietly clou.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1211694/ O, TeacherIt starts with an afternoon classhalf an hour out of town--you cast your nets of something chapters into the dishwater mouths of strangersAnd you spend days fishing for their wordsthrough pools of cockled papers, timeand unending metaphors of the sea.The bus home is al.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Celyn/1203774/