http://slow.writerscafe.org/voldy The original writings of author Seracies en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776183206 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 slide your fingers down my throatthere’s bruises on my thighs her hair hangs, unwashed, on the tileson the flooras the water drips down, into therusted porcelain sink you cannot understand the cracks in the wallhow they bleed there’s the solitude he n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/voldy/625421/  go, go, go time forthe birds to flyand the child to run.Run, run away.paper dolls weremade to burnand walls won’twait to fallset the table with flowers and bricks,the old manwon’t notice,the young manwon’t care,and the daughterdid all that she .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/voldy/525055/ Wrote this one when I was half asleep, so that might explain it. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/voldy/510996/ The world is tipping.We will fall.Down.Over the edge.Like the tail of a cometBurning brightShooting between stars.Then, Gone. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/voldy/500774/  My tongue,swollen with the taste of sleepsmothers my mind gentle snores drift throughthe wallin a taunting lullaby How long will I be counting sheepand whatever else floats above my headin the dark All the moments lostand foundin soft sheets and pil.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/voldy/474694/  The air is brisk and cool, my breath turning to small clouds of white as I walk down the sidewalk. I push my hands deeper into my pockets to keep my fingers from turning numb.Crackly brown leaves scatter across the pavement, discarded from the trees above. The tops are almost completely ba.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/voldy/466300/  Throw on the overcoatLace up the shoesAnd scurry hurry down the laneDown to the cobblersTo mend those old bootsThen up to the tailorsTo sew up those seamsOff to the marketFor fresh Tuesdays greensA pickle or twoAnd perhaps some old cheese“No Mrs. Dunby, I’m .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/voldy/436628/ http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/voldy/418050/  Amid the blasts and falling bombsThe gunshots through the airI stumble on the broken groundWith little thought or care The bodies falling freely nowWith bullets in their heartsThe screams that sound of dying menDeath tolls begin to start The gun trembles within .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/voldy/370470/    The pencil scratchUpon the pageForgotten tunesThat lay to wasteTo suns that fallAnd daylight’s moonTo blank and listless stares The camera’s flashTo capture nowThe sounds and sightsOf coloured lightsDiscard what isAnd what might be.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/voldy/357909/ It’s raining. I can hear the rain Upon my roofThere’s sound for little else It’s raining. The pitter patterA thousand dropsThe shingles creakThe wood all drenchedOn the windowThe rain streaks downTiny crystal rivers  It’s ra.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/voldy/337109/  A seagull coasts directly overhead, caught up in a wind current taking it nowhere. The bird flaps its wings in a leisurely fashion. It sways slightly with the breeze. With a final flap of the feathered wings, the gull begins a lazy descent.         T.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/voldy/332558/ Tick. Tick. Tick.The incessant ticking filled his ears, allowing him no peace from the aggravating sound. His eyes flickered open, his pupils shrinking to pinpricks and he closed them in pain from the harsh light. Tick... Tick...He wanted to scream, at least that sound would be new to him, bre.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/voldy/330687/ An older poem that still remains as one of my favorites. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/voldy/329618/ From ample grave does death beseechTo come for all in sweet releaseOf old tombstone that keeps close guardFrom daylight walkers and fateful’s card From yonder gate do souls departReady the steeds for journeys to startBring forth the devils all in good mirthTo sort through .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/voldy/329280/ Her slender bones and skin so pale,Vanity’s need for reflection all frail.Her eyes downcast with sparks of shame,The burning need for forgiving flame. With hair as light as moonshine’s beam,It cascades down in unbroken stream.Her irises veiled in the gloom of the night.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/voldy/328741/ More metaphorical than literal. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/voldy/328719/