http://slow.writerscafe.org/emylleigh The original writings of author Emily Quinn en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775984204 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Glide along moonlit silkUpon feet made of glassKiss the chill of twilight's breathAnd taste the poor mans ilk Savor calm of the UniverseThe black silence of the starsSway in Earth’s cradled touchThe wanderer’s traverse Bound from ledg.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/810660/ Blues and greys may shade the sky with gentle pencilstrokesOn days when rain trickles down from cumbersome cloudsSwelling with misted breath to kiss against dampenedpanes. Skies will rage beside uproarious winds that sing thesong of vivacious chimes,Howling secrets.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/806376/ I didn’t know Michael Krope, not many people did. He kept to his self mostly, preferring to remain out of site, hunkered up in his dark cave of solitude. The place he had called home for the last twenty odd years was a ratty old bay-and-gable; rust red bricks, large bay window stretching up th.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/728378/ Who would bring light must endure burning-David Zindell http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/727384/ ~From what we get, we can make a living. What we give; however, makes a life- Arthur Ashe http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/727382/ ~Even if it's absurd to think you can change things, it's even more absurd to believe that it is foolish and unimportant to try- Peter. C Newman http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/722808/ It is in our lives and not our words that our religion must be read- Thomas Jefferson http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/719518/ You'll never find a rainbow if you're looking down- Charlie Chaplin http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/719516/ Nothing happens unless first we dream- Carl Sandburg http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/719509/ How does one become a butterfly? They have to want to learn to fly so much that you are willing to give up being a caterpillar- Trina Paulus http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/719505/ ~We all have two lives. The one we are given and the one we create- Mary Chapin Carpenter http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/719498/ ~To be in your children's memories tomorrow, You have to be in their lives today- Barbara Johnson http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/719494/ http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/719464/ With eyes of compassion; gleaming spheres of anonymity withheld  I see the bird perch upon the dusted sill Through glass fogged to mirror my visionEyes stitched shut with the thread of corruption And glinting needle of manipulation Petals mark a path through settling earth,Sp.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/638415/ Hate crimes, corruption, cause and effect, socially defined seperation... When is enough? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/632466/ The second installment of "The Sound of Truth" http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/617137/ The third and final componant of "The Sound of Trurh" enjoy. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/617127/ The colour of lust bold and hotRadiating sultry lips of crimsonWhich pucker to temptations callBeckoning with covetous hungerTo devour desire with sweet red tongueWhich moistens full luscious lipsParting for whispers of deep seeded longing. Shades of heat rising through warming .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/612394/ A story about a family dealing with the hardships of cancer http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/609830/ “No!” She screamed shrill and frantic. “You can’t do this! Y-you can’t!” She turned in a desperate attempt to escape but only ended up digging in her heals as a second forceful hand grasped her all too roughly. She cried out in pain as the bruising flesh beneath.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/601996/ Thank you oh wise fat men who sit up in your boughten thrones binging on the fruits of our labour, purging our so called freedom into your very own insatiable voracious fingers. Thank you for giving me guidance on such important decisions which I couldn’t possibly have the intelligence to deci.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/600274/                  Reyna sat in front of a broad, antique mirror. The frame was a light golden shade that shone in the pale light of the full, white moon which directed its soft glow in through the window. The gentle bru.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/587986/ CHAPTER SEVENTEEN “So complex is the human spirit that it can itself scarce discern the deep springs which impel it to action.” Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, The White Company   “Quinn?” My head was pounding fiercely behind my eyes. “How are yo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/586366/ Oh how I love you, you must know You come in many variations for me to enjoy, Spanish and strong, lasting ever longYellow or white, with your sweet delightTall and thin, with delicate skinBut all of which I do adore, ever more. I dare not show your nakedness, it may&nb.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/585515/ Who am I you ask? Such a complex question indeedCountless wrong answers carve words into stonePart grass at their roots for paths unatoned Snaking mazes of bemused passage, Wind illogically without rhymeAs vertigo overwhelms the unseeing eyeAnd misdirection renders us blind.&nbs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/585356/ Inspired by the poems picture sent to me for the "Picture Perfect" contest http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/583131/ This was written for the contest "Where Are You?" http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/579890/  CHAPTER SIXTEEN “Will not a tiny speck very close to our vision blot out the glory of the world, and leave only a margin by which we see the blot?” George Eliot, Middlemarch.   My mother was coming home today from her business trip to Toronto and I.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/579712/ CHAPTER FIFTEEN   "Grief is the agony of an instant; the indulgence of Grief the blunder of a life." Benjamin Disraeli, Vivian Grey  I lay in bed, my hands tucked behind my head as a pillow.  I had tried to call Jayce every day since our fight but he obvio.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/575312/ I have seen the look of complete peace in the face of a loved one moments before she passed away from cancer. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/572935/ The petals wilt and float gently to the ground belowColour drains from vibrant hue leaving pale remains to dryCrimson flakes contrasting cool white glowThey dry and curl, hugging themselves tightCrumbling to dust carried off by mourning wind. Lifeless laying scattered remains where .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/570143/ CHAPTER FOURTEEN "Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin, As self-neglecting."William Shakespeare, Henry V.  “Mom!” I called as I flung clothes around my room frantically.            She came into my roo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/564262/ CHAPTER THIRTEEN “Cheerfulness, it would appear, is a matter which depends fully as much on the state of things within as on the state of things without and around us.” Charlotte Bronte, Sherley. “You have been making substantial progress lately Quinn.” Pear.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/564261/ Even though I do not know you... I do love you. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/563613/ To the next occupant of this homeroom 103 desk; although I do not know you- or maybe I do- I wanted to leave of piece of me behind for you to find. So when you find this simple letter written upon a scrap piece of paper, I hope that you don`t merely discard it but instead, consider its contents with.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/554682/ Just something I wrote in frustration to simple minded judgments and stereotypes people spew out on a daily basis. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/554535/ I'm not afraid of love, I'm afraid of having it to lose http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/553959/ Laying back with the steady, even notes gently swirling around me.        Closing my eyes, letting the soft melody sooth my soul.                      &nbs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/537692/ Swirling lines of eternal colourHolding everlasting truthWithin the mystery, a meaning so dearA secret value to only one. Tales of life, gained and lostDepicted in such imageryEach carefully placed lineIs a sequence of wordsMaking up each personal story. A proclamatio.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/536324/ With the clustered colours on a splattered canvasBright petals unfold an inner beautyDancing under the gentle rainfallThat awakens the life from the nurturing soil. Grass adorns a healthy hueOf fresh greenery moist with dewBirds fly home from their winter retreatWith new songs o.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/533904/ even when they can hardly carry themselves they will still gladly bear your weight without a second thought. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/533062/ I care not of how I am remembered but of how many smiles that formed because of something I did http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/531924/ Sarcastic cool humour is a second language for him, The air of calm collection and confidenceThat makes my infatuated head swim. He drives me crazy with his inability to lose control.Although he never tries to maintain or even want itHis sexy attitude soaks it in from the whole.&n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/529200/ betrayal is the biggest dissappointment, the biggest way to hurt someone http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/527752/ “Dionysus has me in his claws.”  I stated simply, my eyes dancing in a cocaine induced frenzy, “everyone knows he’s the source of ecstasy, personal delivery from the daily world through physical or spiritual intoxication.” I flicked open and closed the tiny gold lo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/527322/ His footsteps thumping sloppily down the stairsMade my heart beat thud, warning bewares.His tobacco filled lungs hacking up tarReminded me of my cigarette burn scar. Into the kitchen he shoved right through meKnocking eight year old me down to me knees.By the sink my mother faked .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/525110/ Twisting delusions of sane insanitySpiralling, spinning through false reality.kaleidoscope visions of bursting colourwelcomed madness’ arranged contours. Open doors of unthinkable mysteryTo worlds developed of pure clownery.Endless corridors of bazaar magicRising, falling,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/522833/ A small hole in the foundation of our garage-which my brother and I used for the doorway-was sealed by a plank of wood and hidden by overgrown weeds. Used this place to escape when life was too much. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/509819/ the difficult decision many women are faced with each day http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/507685/ The thick stench of burning flesh festered in my twitching nostrils as the body in front of me slowly turned to ash under the over powering heat of the hot flame. Freshly spilled blood painted the damp soil a deep scarlet, lighting up as the morning sun hissed on its surface. The rotting flesh from .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emylleigh/506476/