http://slow.writerscafe.org/Angelcat3 The original writings of author TJ en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776050728 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 A true story written for my English HSC creative writing piece last year. A tale of loss and pain, hardship and hope. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1113697/ Note: Marigolds mean grief (among other things) in the language of flowers which happens to be an obssession of mine since reading Diffanbaugh's The Language of Flowers. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1113695/ Also written after my rabbits death. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1113694/ Written upon learning of my rabbit's death last year. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1113691/ In between the limits of day, she prowls hungrily, her tongue licking cracked lips, her ears twitching at the slightest sound. Through deserted streets, behind darkened alleyways, she searches and searches for something, anything, to ease the hunger.But there is nothing left for the Shadow Cat. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1113690/ My wings shatterSoundlessly, empty echoesTry desperately to fill the voidAs the world crumbles around me  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1113689/ The candle burnsIn the fierce morning light;Its ashes falling, crumbling, dying-Dont blow it out!For the flame will burn out on its own,Just as it came into being:Alone. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1113686/ The lonely little candlePatiently waits,Melting into the darkness;Feeling empty, unloved-But she simply waits,As silence closes in;Echoes of a dream,A dream that once was and will once beFor the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1113544/ Dedicated to my beautiful Mum. Written many, many years ago. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1113542/ Another short-y! http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1113537/ A quick little poem. Enjoy! http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1113531/ What is with my obsession with the moon? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1113525/ Inspired by the Romantic poet, John Keats. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1113520/ Not one of my bests... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1113516/ One of my favourites... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1113510/ Another dark poem... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1113509/ A bit dark... The feeling of being unworthy and unwanted; rejected and lonely; but unable to cry. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1113507/ Isit a crime to live life in melancholy?Livingeach day but with no sweet melody?Oh,heaven, dost thou not feel the needToopen branches wideAndfill this great divideThathas spread amber poppies along the forefront of my mind. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1113503/ The pressure of HSC, of parents and teachers, of hardship and sorrow-that is what this poem is about. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1113502/ At some point we all must think about this...I just put it into words. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1108044/ A world without hope, without inspiration... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1107993/ Lonelinessis subtle,Hoveringlike a cloud;Waitingfor the momentWhenyou are unprepared.Andcreeping into your bloodstreamItstrikes an innocent pose,Thatdoubtful is believedByshe who has.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1107986/ To those who feel on the outside of life... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1107981/   I cant do it;I cant smile And pretend I’m alright,When all I want to do is die. And in a sense,I’m already dead. This flesh I hold In themirror,Sta.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1107979/ Written around the same time as Silent Voice. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1107976/ First love is ever so sweet! http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1107974/ Written leading up to hospitalization a few years ago... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1107970/ Another philosophical rant... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1107966/  What is freedom? How do we know that we donot have wings if we have never tried to fly? Tis a world of wondrous possibilities awaiting the adventuroussoul who dares to step off thecliff of limits and soar above their fear. Should you hid.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1107962/ Another tale of a girl lost and then found. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1107958/ Ah, first love... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1107950/ Originally meant to be a story, You Found Me is a poem written in blank verse (pretty sure that's the name) about a lost girl who is found. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1107945/ I am a big environmentalist but this is only a short poem summing up my feelings towards Our Earth. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1107940/ Written for a friend in hospital. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1107936/ Written in a very depressed mood. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1107931/ When I was in hospital I met many teenagers with serious body issues. This poem commemorates the emotions felt by sufferers of anorexia on their path to recovery. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1107929/ A poem inspired by my all-time favourite poem ever: Hope is a thing with feathers by Emily Dickinson. Written in order to bring hope to those who have given up on hope ever returning... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1107925/ The beginning of a story inspired by one of my favourite Jane Austen books, Mansfield Park. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1107924/ A short tale about a girl and her angel. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1107881/ A poem of teenage angst, written at a time of depression, alone in a hospital ward, srabbling for the last remaining tethers of hope. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1107873/ Pondering loneliness... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1107868/ You have sufferedenough, my friend.As oblivion risesbefore youOutstretch yourarms,Welcome it.Pay no heed asMy tears fallrelentlessly andSplatter into athousand paper flowersOn your pale skin. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Angelcat3/1107867/