http://slow.writerscafe.org/bdfhjlnprtvxz The original writings of author Nathan Betterman en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776007184 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15  What is Shame?How it plagues us soMakes us feel soInadequate, soWrong? What is Guilt?How it reminds usAnd binds usPointing to usShame? What is Fear?How it interferes withAnd diminishes us withIts way to remind us withGuilt? What is Weakness?.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bdfhjlnprtvxz/294209/  I walked through a doorInto a room so brightI will be there no moreDealing with the fight It shines, it glimmersOh what a sightThere is no darknessHa, you guessed it, no night But even though I seeBeauty and GraceThere is still a part of meThat needs to le.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bdfhjlnprtvxz/294207/  I am climbingTo the topOf the mountain. I strain andI fight andI cry, too. But, now there,I see onlyDark, blinding clouds. I look, andI break, andI scream, “WHY?” And the echoes,WHY, Why, why…They return, whispers.... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bdfhjlnprtvxz/276818/ I have no reason to wake up.I have no reason to dream.I’ve lost hope in that shake up,I’ve lost some self esteem. The days keep rolling,The hours keep strolling,But it doesn’t matter to me.The apples are falling,Someone is calling,But it doesn’t matte.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bdfhjlnprtvxz/274670/ I looked into a pond the other day.It was murky, green, and cold.There was not much else to say;And yet, it had much to behold.There were no fish, no frogs, no flies,No snakes or tadpoles.But yet there my reflection lies,Filled with many holes.These holes were filled with black;A b.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bdfhjlnprtvxz/273716/ Little voices, little song,Dance within me all night long,They hold to me, they are so strong,Little voices, little song.Little views, little look,The thoughts thereafter make me shook,That although one picture I took,Little views, little look. Little words, little lies,A .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bdfhjlnprtvxz/273715/ I wandered in through the front door,I looked around, across the floor,After coming in, hands so sore,Through the house I tore. As I picked, as I chose,As I snuck around on my toes,Seeing through a screen, I froze;There I saw that rose. I went out the back,Looking out.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bdfhjlnprtvxz/273714/ I wrote this as I was leaving Night Chapel one evening. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bdfhjlnprtvxz/273713/