http://slow.writerscafe.org/Pam The original writings of author mysticgmekeepr en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775990567 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 They used to just come flying out In a wild dance of listening and spinning;Those Nouns, adjectives, verbsTumbling over each other Creating a word puzzle of thought and feeling Pictures of story, becoming paragraphs of lyrical pain ;Artists bleed words from wounds Slashed by the sharp .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/1888900/ They used to just come flying out In a wild dance of listening and spinning;Those Nouns, adjectives, verbsTumbling over each other Creating a word puzzle of thought and feeling,Sentences of empathy Pictures of our stories, becoming paragraphs of lyrical pain .Now they are slower to co.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/1888200/ Lying thereLike a withered thought,Bent and spineless where the winds Howl and blowWhere the tall grass bowsWith its passing;And you listen to midnight On your kneesWithout resistance,Pondering and praising.None are promised The morning. WeSlumber in the sliver of the question... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/1723140/ Walking With AngelsI wasn't perfect mother,I was flawed and I was real.I didn't just lay there looking beautifulOn the other side of glass, only to Leave you In a mist of illusory beauty.No....You had to feed me, change me,Suffer through my wailing, and my failing;I interrupted you.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/1719539/ Poets are strange beasts;A species all their own,Folks who give themselves to youBut who always remain alone. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/1672412/ I have been witness to this transformation for a decade now,10 years out of seventy watching the transformation of glory;Flash of fire before the winds of denuding come.The leaves sing a crimson song here in this land;A golden harmony, a peach and scarlet ballad.I have seen the miracle.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/1666726/ Men think we are showing themOur bodies,When we are reallyRevealing our soulsThe thinly veiled heart of a womenLies beneath our breast,It winks and blinks unexpectedlyIn a flash of soft and naked flesh. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/1196841/ We make one anotherElaborate, often religious,Promises of a lifetime of fulfillment.We deliver each other,Days and hours of flaws,Sprawling out in sweats and humannessThe makeup of our personas smudged.Helplessness and separationPepper our joys and intimacies.Still having vast spac.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/1159041/ WellWhat do you thinkWhen the river runsRaging and roaring?When the subtle Is not so subtle at all...It's a glaring madness of hidden meaning.What do you thinkWhen the promise burstsWith realities rose:Scar, thorn, petal and feather...The storms are justThe passing weather. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/1158553/ I could have strolledDown a midnight street,Cement songs vibrating in our feet:The tales of walkers,Drumming out their beat,Against our steps.I could have, withYour fingers intwined in mineMaking the moon smile at our stories,The street lights winkingAt the free flowing river o.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/1153844/ Today burst from the East,Shinning on diamonds,Glistening in the brightnessOf white flurries...thereIn place of white narcissus,White oleander, or hyacinth...Bare branches with a hint of bud:A pubescent landscape.That rodent, Phil that hails from Pennsylvania,He lied you knowA.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/1152909/ There is a song The night sings different thanAny other refrain.There is a night touch onYour skin,Different from any other hand.There is a wail out of the bowels, And the earth breathes and heaves in darkness, Gestating the morning light. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/1144044/ We are formedFrom each others rib,And don't know it.Fashioned from each othersBlood and beingAnd don't recognize Our contribution...or theirs.Humanity embraces all,And comes from the One.Each of us are parts,Without whichThere would be no whole. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/1141985/ I borrowed your image late last night...I hope you don’t mind.I reached out and gently laid it acrossthe backside of my eyes;lids aglow with the fiery embers of imagination.Lust danced in my veinsslithering  down blue fluid trails to my hands, whereFingers came alive with promises and&nbs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/1020090/ every now and then one escapes the war and finds release in Switzerland http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/1019527/ I watched youwhile you slept.Your fluttering eyesdancing in rhythm to the TV light.Lids draped overyour secrets...but not so tightlyin the blinking light, thattold me in the space between where you wandered in the night......your soft breathing,absent sound,brushed against my face wit.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/1018913/ reflections on the circle of life http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/1017934/ Isn't everything in life a dance of dichotomy, seeking balance? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/1017437/ Strangers souls braidedlike childhoodwith knots of knowing;Did we pass somewhere, sometime,strangers in the night,Did I brush against you in a crowdand sense a cord's connection?Did my eyes fall on youacross a roomin some lost hour, unawareas life's clock ticked off its minutes?Parallels of sacred s.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/1016364/ I used to write poems in the dark of night;passion, soul and seeking.Deep in a galaxy of wordand dream....my twinkling hand a vehicle,forward its trajectory.Something sawSomething touchedSomething sangIn the dark of night   before the morning light.p.lawrence 8/1/12 http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/1013700/ Remember when we sang and dancedbeneath the wings of a second chance...Not so very long agobefore the "olding" came to stay,falling like snowin a wordless way,whispering its promise of new and wondrous ways....Lessons learned,peace and play.....Just the other side ofYesterday. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/955555/ Once when I was as young and vulnerable as springI ran headlong down the highwaysof the cacophony of my confusion;I climbed the southern mossy treesof a tangled terror.I ran with wild abandon through the doorsof sanctuary and sacramentburying my face in the black folds of a priest'srobe of piety, th.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/694640/ resurrection roseIt wasn't one moment, orwas it?And there were so many that wrestled me to the groundand so many thatreinvented meYears revealing the specksof stars  that smiled on the raggedand the mending edges of me.It feels cumulative,tho...cobwebs in.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/688706/ We must be willing to wear it as a crown or be willing to let it go....trying to drag anchors through life only weighs us down, and prevents our hard earned wings from soaring. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/682019/ Whatever it is that opens you up,That expands you, That touches you deeplyand stills your fears.......Invite it, embrace it,twirl magnificently in its arms. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/678623/ She had a smile that never quite reached her eyes;always ending at the slightly turned up cornerspainted on the edges of her mouth;lovely crater home,a hive of sweetness full of sting.But still her smiletattooed itself into my heartand made me bleed with tenderness.So captivated was I by her beauty;.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/670452/ I have grown leanmy cupboards are sparse;canned words have been eaten, digested and spewed.Thoughts and sentences hide behind curtain and couch,like a small child  hiding and taunting, find me if you can.Left thin and spindly like hungry fingers graspingsorting through, emptiness and pover.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/668524/ Youserenade me from the avenues of the past,callingon the notes of a moment’s perfect hum.Fromthe streets of my running;breakingrules and anchors and chains with every flying step.Wewere tangled up in satin sheets and scrawny armsmadeof lust but lacking love and .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/643238/ Everyone is walking aroundunder the same sun,In their unique display of human suits...sometimes they match who we really are fairly well,but other times, not at all,For things are rarely as they appear.We are masses of energy, some more, some less;molecules of light and lifepoured into containers of.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/637354/ The pane of lifeis so much clearerwhen it isn't smudged all overwith my sticky fingerprints. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/632366/ Old Woman She is the old womannow... Her brown and broken teeth flashspittle at you i.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/631318/ A lot of peoples featherswent into the constructionof my wings...without each one,I would not fly. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/625274/ The earth whispers to methe sky  shines & weepsthe wind sings throughthe stripping trees,putting the stamp of chillover their decision to get naked. clouds surround the moonwith its swollen glowing.and as the children's laughteris swallowed by the fading corn fields;I.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/624308/ This is the hourwhen we make readyto lie down against the soft edgesof memory and dream.The hardened in us has fallen awayand given birth to the knowledge of the ongoing.Fear sheds itself like leaf and snakeskin,letting go of mythand outgrown personas.We wear a comfort.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/624104/ When judging another we should always keep inmindthat the kindest amongst the sea of humanity,still harbor hardenedstones....andthe most heinous have soft placesperhapsnever touched. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/621877/ Things that normally wouldn't be funny in rememberingAnymore than they were in experiencingthe first time around......Somehow in this space of Graceextract a smile. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/621171/ Oh sing me a lullabylullaby man,Sing me a lullabyas fast as you can....Come creeping and stealing,come softly to me.Rock my soul’s cradle in your melody’s sea...Sing me to sleep in your notes crest tonight....Lullaby manas fast as you can...Come let your words kiss me goodnight. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/615214/ Falls brilliant blush isdancing across the edgesof the remnants of spring.They converse in the wind, anddangle on twigs holding holidays ornaments;ruby, burgundy, gold and green...Swinging there flaunting splendor;like a gaudy street walker bidding a passerby’s attention.I stand still and watc.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/613278/ you have crept under   the fence of my thinking;a vein tangling itself   in the trellis of my thoughts,a curious inspiration  making flowers known   in the opposites of mystery;A shapeless shape   hovering near    in fragrance and sensation.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/612905/ And what a marvelous trail it is,absorbing our tears,soothing our fears.Our footprints mingled there in the leaves and last nights rainwith the marks of fellow pilgrimssharing tales of joy and shame.We traveled here belowbut ended up soaring through the treescaptured by the lightthat led us all the .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/611761/ Cloistered souls of silencerise up from the remains of their tragedy   On the tongues of trepidation and turpitude.Secret slumber interrupted,  they file beneath the moon,toe and heel the only staccato sound  echoing across a blackness poured out as sky.Puncturing the stars with .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/611327/ A Golden Whisper in the Throat of God.............We step lightly on the crispnessof our earth.Crossing over the creeksubmerged in the timelessness of transition.You bend to pick a fallen leaf,only to discard it, seeking a deeper scarlet.We balance on the trails and trees, tracing sprawlin.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/609067/ The earth around meis anticipatory and reactionary;always readying itself, always surrendering.Preparing for the jewels and necessitiesof a coming season,always responding to the cues the elements give,the nights begin to cool or warm,the rains come, the sun shines longer or less;snows melt away...... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/608505/ ....something creeps seductivelyup the inside of my memories,like a hand in slow motion on my inner thigh.Both awaken remembranceand quicken the watchful eye of our days;the pulse of life in the blood of our concerns.This sudden awakening puts focus out frontlike a soldier standing sentinel, doing h.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/604448/ There is a rise of passion,like flickering flamesdancing with the wetness on my tongue;buds of longing salivating desireto taste the sweet, salty fleshwith its nutrients of human need and sustenance.Something hides behind the curtained foldsof my mouth,making pools with word and lust.I ache to lick .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/602923/ Husband # 2, tho abusive and quite unkind, did have a deep tenderness and understanding of the child I was...and why. He recognized me because I was a mirror that held up his own wounds, and showed him his own tears, giving him permission to weep.Never was I so attracted to something so utterly unsa.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/602279/ ...I think there is a timeto just lay back and let it all unfold,    to succumb to fingers of grass      and see what the fleeting clouds hold.But there are other timeswhen its necessary to take a stand   for all thats right and good and holy,  .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/601050/ Everything has a flip side  doesn't it?Happiness is just one side   of the spinning topwith pain hidden beneath   its over sized middle.We gleefully push the stem  and let it spin;look at the colors flow and go.Sitting on a Buddha bed of musing,  these circumstance.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/594601/ I have felt the razors edge of love;the one that cuts so deepyou have to cauterize the woundwith flame...It is always the sharpest sideof lovethat bleeds with another's painand wishes if onlyI could dance them through the rain. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/581572/ I don't even know what it hungers for.A wild mushroom with a newborn's wail,primal is its scream,more insistent than desirebut with little specificity.Something strange and wonderfulwithin me aches from the fullnessof a pregnant soulripened by time and sun....I am far too sensitive,too open to stimu.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pam/579477/