http://slow.writerscafe.org/dwarfism The original writings of author Amorette Duvannes en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776027333 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 for them http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/2882201/ It's funny that I'm an adult now and I've found my way back here after all these years. Someone very close to me took their own life last week. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/2839523/ I’ve been gone for 8 years, and that isn’t to say I had a presence here to have been gone, but I *loved* posting stuff here when I was 16, and having somewhere I could go. Here’s one from last year. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/2836740/ There will never be triumphShowers of glitter will bite And experience will cheapen the fresh-mouthedCrisp, baby-skinned, paler orbit Around the corners of the world. Years don’t bloom, they swallow.And with them, the fragrance of who you arePours out as if a blocked nose, neve.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/2836739/ not wanting to overtag this poem because i didn't want to give anything away although it's really quite painfully obvious if you have any sense of right or wrong, really. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1638948/ They said it, didn't they?Plug it down your pie-hole, like a rain-pipe.It doesn't care that I don't like the taste.Has no quarrel with the queasy uneasy inThe plumb throb of my throat. It only cares how I get there,How I reach that pebbled wrong milestone.Truthfully, the poems said the same thi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1502646/ gone http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1500348/ I haven't had this clump,Mangled thorns and runningReams tear-blue skySince I last loved you.I am a mute since then,And then, and then,The tombstone wordsFell out of my mouthLike ash down a well,Or a witch and her spell,The deceived, conceivedThe same red way.I slept on springs, jumpingRoar, belchin.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1488945/ the tags are indeed correct. don't second guess it - it's not my experience, but instead, was inspired entirely by jeune et jolie - a glorious lil' masterpiece. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1488570/ a little poem recounting a dream, but ultimately, recounting another little dream entirely. :) if you get the lil reference to the french language i loveeee youuuuuu. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1486627/ Watermelon baby. I remember my first strike of cold, hard air.The high-strung refrain of the outbreak.I remember the pimpled bruise,The rush of pissed red wine,The shiver.I remember it because it's real.It's how I really feel, andThe condescension, baby,It ain't worth s**t. It turns,IT winds, l.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1486220/ a craptastic attempt at disguising my own teenaged s**t behind a terrible rearrangement of the syllables in "othello". gaaaaahhhhhh http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1485106/ i'm all angst and wrongness. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1484520/ Tonight, red. Twirling, burning red,Fork of dreams, carry me along,Tonight, the red. It speaks. It speaks.Everything, every limp wick, it bounces up,Irons it's kink, tonight, everything. And Nothing, maybe at all, maybe ever.It runs. Like desert sand beneathThe palpitation of hot-blooded animal.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1483624/ i wanted to write about my favourite colour and how it was nothing. but i couldn't write a favourite without considering why. and i am a fool for not seeing it before, but this poem, at least, does. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1480488/ I know more than to suppose I'm hurting anyone. We're using each other for the status, of course. I've never had anyone love longer than a slap, to know if I could love longer than a slap. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1478641/ Je aurais espérée maintenant, que je serais plus longue. It makes no sense. It fiddles with the ogre atrocity ofBlindness. It keeps wind like a cough. Rashes like poison.I am one with it, finalement. Running hyena-chafed,Against the infringement. Running away from yourself,Blindne.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1476325/ Dread-locked darling, your hair a stairwellFor the clamber, dandy, c'est. I looked for This validation in any other place, cameLike Alice, here last. A picket fence frozenOut of dead Jewish loins. Out of ash theyCouldn't tell from skin. C'est la seule façon. I, lacerated, bleed on t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1475035/ The dream I have is tasteful. It is what they would like.I have been slain by the man I recalled, no.I am piles on paths and pavements. Bleeding out.They crush my wound to keep me all in. It goes.I have gasped my chest out of shape, it has been delightful.I sniff little names and splutter little Fre.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1474288/ They ran the circle wide, fairy-mouth. Wing speed. It ran around the only word possible:The age of forging peace, the day of dice. Which way, which way will I go. She had the dream of Artemis, and sungHow floating, travelling, whispering she was.She was a gypsy open-heart, closed-womb.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1473737/ I am penning God,Fingers of spears cupping the belt buckle,Back against the fly-handle,Waiting to fly off the handleThe fox, he asked to be tamed,And I replied, "of what?", He sighed and cried again, the Forest refreshed itself and reopenedIt's hyperlink, I felt everything in those days.Th.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1473150/ Who am I? I am cat-eyed. I am blue bird-mind.I have nothing more to be. I am nothing moreThan me. In my head, I tell my lovers I miss them,Even as I hold them. Over and over and over again. Is this some certified doom for my future?I have a dream. It continues like ostrich s**t. (And I dri.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1472789/ Lovesong, they sing,The black cuckoo drinking you,A wordsmith with his fingersPlaying fiddle with his one chord,Drawing out the mammoth highOf being so goddamn loneahlie. The breeches break beneath theBombardment, en mourant,je tu posseéde, it sings, it sings. Like all else in the m.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1472785/ My little madman,Half a year, almost, has passed since my last laugh - I have been so dreadfully sore from your touch-and-go. I will never forgive you for hurting me so much, for making me feel more realer than I liked. This time last year, I had just begun to recognise this as an infatuation. I had.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1472288/ It sounds like a poem of change. Maybe it's just a poem of picking up poems again. Of being something more me again. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1472282/ I haven't done this in nearly a year... my apologies, my apologies, my apologies. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1469353/ IThe sag of full moons soggy and bewitched, it seemsFingers that didn't know the touch sense,Wiped blank, clean-slate, until you wereSomething I regretted. Lord, King, theFirst worthless-giver to my persona,Handed it over like a bouquet, you, bridegroom,Would go on to be. It was okay, then, to .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1373583/ The liquored gush sets into your blood-stream,Black fountain-spew, cold as the nitrogen slush. The feet dash like a congregation with a will;A wanting socialite. Cheese-grated eyes,Grate your words against the edge of my horror-show slide.They say Respectable, but am I able to re.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1372061/ IfI break my body, will you seep out through the open-wounds? God,I couldn't tell you what I've done today. I have blisters on myblisters, the sores that I picked open earlier today reopened andstarted bleeding again. I did 10km and my knees were sucking upoxygen .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1371302/ When I first saw you, I perceived you as something inhumane. Your manner and humour and way of confronting people seemed odd, out-of-place, and in my perfect, clean-stitched world, detached from humanity, thus being inhumane. As my naivety wore on, and I furthered my conceptions on your inhumanity, .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1370899/ The Same. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1370897/ another monologue that he won't hear - just as well http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1370525/ I've been about the truth in a very round-about way. Lots of metaphors, both extended and dead-ended. But I wanted to give some truth, as literal as possible. God knows, this is supposed to help. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1367803/ The pale ogre of my subordinationLeaps, frostless, onto the conscienceOf an absence you permitted.Ultra, f*****g, lost.I bite my tongue into shreds,Praying for your stay, stay, stayI will wait,Under the mechanical bull roarOf faeces, exhaust fumes and goreIt will come to naught, I know, I do, I.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1367293/ Guess who I spoke to today? Cover this up. Guess. Emily. I pressed her into this kind of lame, limp hug because I knew full well it wasn't her I was trying to lock in, tie down, stay -- but I hugged her because she leant against the wall, in all her redheaded glory (which she has actually .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1367287/ They say the point of an ode is to argue something. Well, here is the antithesis of an ode. It's lost it's fight and it has nothing left to persuade. See author's note. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1365638/ You, summer-stealer,You, charred mind, Chapped heart,Champagne horrorsWhisky roarHiccuping sirens --Taker of my divine,Offshore song. Wept man. Wet man.Sickle cell, sucking at my heel.Beater, beat her -They will say.They will gasp.They will throw you to the curb. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1365600/ A poem about the inevitable evil. It's allotropes, it's faces, it's humanity. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1363443/ it's another letter but i've forgotten what number i got up to so i carried on http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1358506/ A science thing! My writing isn't it's best here (but by no means it's worst), and I made a big huge pun out of chemistry! If you get this, be my friend. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1357884/ See author's note. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1354542/ Another poem exploring the social ideology pertaining to adolescence. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1354532/ A villanelle written in iambic pentameter about the loss of innocence with falling in love for the first time, and knowing of the inevitability that it will hurt. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1349280/ See if you can decode the linguistic tricks I put into this one. I'd be very interested to see who gets any part of it! :) http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1348544/ I am in a zoo. I am a striped lagoon.I am on display.Little girl, why you weep? Little girl, Ears of spears, sharp, blood.Ouch. The men come, to-ing andFro-ing. The men come in. Frolic, a kind of limp sick,Aided spit, I feel it in my groins,Famine. Oww. I see the worst, the world, the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1348542/ Another one for the one I shouldn't, and didn't, really. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1335067/ For something I shouldn't. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1332101/ For the man I must routinely pronounce my "father". I hope he reads this someday. We both deserve that much. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1330696/ hgfdvsa http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1329428/ I know it's a fine, fancy delusion -- can I play with it anyway? You, you lazy, sloppy thing, put us all in front of a screen today, and the dark atmospheric wiles of concentration meant that our eyes could go anywhere they warranted -- it wasn't missed. I saw the veins in your neck twitch enough to.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dwarfism/1328961/