http://slow.writerscafe.org/nienna The original writings of author Elizabeth en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776004771 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 I can’t pretend I knew you,when the truth is I didn’t know you existeduntil you died.I knew your father as a face on the big screenand TV.But you were just some b-list actorThe kind whose name no one knowsuntil you mention his roles“oh that guy�"“ And that’s.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nienna/517036/ Title stolen from a Buffy quote I couldn't get out of my head. Help making this better welcome and appreciated. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nienna/515911/ Your knee glances off my kneeand then returnslike some furtive bird or frightened animal,restless and unsettled.I sit very stilland wait:Was it an accident?If I'm very still maybe you won't be afraid.Above the table we're talkingand it's like nothing's happening below,but i feel the subtextyour thig.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nienna/514736/ At night they gather in her bedroom like ghosts or people come together for the funeral of a mutual friend, yet strangers to each other. Sometimes there is only one, sometimes more. Never all of them. Some of them are not invited. Most nights their numbers range from two to four. Old lovers who ente.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nienna/494920/ This is the beginning of a story I started about a woman going to a botox party in Dubai. I'm still working on it, but I thought I'd post what I have so far. Feedback and suggestions for improvement (or encouragement to finish this thing!) are welcome and http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nienna/486877/ Your voice carries across the roomeven though we are supposed to be working in pairs.My voice is smaller, just loud enoughso my partner can hear.I’m too quiet, too shy you’d say.And when you say it I shrink a little further,even though I want to be bigger,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nienna/457376/ playing with words after reading Kant on the Sublime http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nienna/455887/ In your Jeep the air conditioner blows grudgingly,offering a thin breeze of lukewarm air.We sit parked outside my buildingbecause there is still a little timeand opening the door, stepping out into the sunonto the pavement so hot I can feel it burningthrough the thin soles of my cheap go.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nienna/451782/ I want to feel you sliding over me again.Your cool touch is the antidote to a day so bright it hurts me. But this evening you are occupiedwith several other women. You glide between them while Iwatch from a distance, seethingat their laughter. I think you knowyou look amazing in th.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nienna/444508/ I'm not sure I want to keep this title. It may be too heavy-handed. Something more subtle might be better. I'm not sure about the way I've done the line breaks either. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nienna/439957/ baseball metaphor poem... tried and true or tired and used. :P http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nienna/438741/  I’ve been here before,not this store, but some storeon a day with made-to-order rain,where brightly colored merchandise blurred before my eyes,calling memories to mind,drawing upon the slimmest associations. Today I follow my mother through the fabric storedazzled .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nienna/433293/ Nothing to do with Ginsberg's poem, rather about "Howl's Moving Castle" and the strange dream I had last week. It probably won't make any sense if you haven't seen the film. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nienna/423414/ This café is too close to the streetfor outdoor tables.The traffic rumbles by across the bricksdisrupting my readingand flavoring my coffee with an aftertaste of exhaust.Where are you?You said you’d be here half an hour ago.My large latte is almost emptyAnd I’m c.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nienna/423382/ Rising from the dark veins of the earthor the slender throbbing veins of the body,swelling up from a narrow stone-walled chasmwhat's concealedrefuses to stay hidden anymore.It emerges without warningseeping slowlyor erupting, a geyser.Today it bubbles up and overflows,a hot-spring... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nienna/413196/ a poem that needs a better title :P largely about wanting someone you can't have http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nienna/407076/ about seeing a Rothko painting at the MOMA http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nienna/395307/ Day by day you become less and less substantial, a love letter where the writing is fading away. Each day I don't hear from you erases something you once whispered into my ear. Yet I refuse to let you disappear gracefully. Not that I would beg, even when the urge siezes me. .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nienna/66417/  You turn from me toward the Paths of the Dead.Now pass all my hopes into darkness.You leave me so little, not even a glance,only your pity and kindness, the touch of your lips upon my hand,the cup that you pressed them to freelyAnd I, shieldmaiden, the king=s own sister-da.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nienna/52186/  Let me give you what you seekit is within melet me grant you peacemy undulating coils,twisting at your feetdo not crush me with your heeloffer yourself to mein my glittering fangslies the sleep of sleepsready to bestowcome to mei have what you need. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nienna/50750/ i try to sleep when you're awake, adding and subtracting the hours knowing when i climb into bed you are dressing for work, eating your Blueberry Morning cereal, opening the curtains before the glass door to the balcony. Buddhist monks play their golden bowls on your cd p.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nienna/47356/ These are the parts of you I never touched, like the words I left unsaid. Your cheek, pale in the pre-dawn light was it rough with stubble? I’ll never kiss you when you have your goatee, feel it prickle against my skin, let you kiss me raw with it. I did not run my finger.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nienna/45523/ We could easily be mistaken for a couple, except you don't take my hand. I walk beside you awkwardly,                                &nb.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nienna/45447/ So I admit I tried it on, the dress I bought intending to resell, wrested from a rack at the outlet mall, where it hid crushed among the formal wear. rejected, a catalog return. I tiptoe to the living room and curtsey for my five-year-old. “A dress for luuuuuuuv!” h.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nienna/41725/ After a Day of Rain Lilly pads and slippery fern leaves line the path as I walk down to the beach. My grandfather is buried in the la.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nienna/40829/ Liquid swishespast your ears,between your toes,through tiny fingers.You open your eyesand seeLightbut it is dim,You are protectedby a shade of mother's skin,like when I close my eyesand the sun leaks in.I sink againinto the tuband feel the water grow cold,as it never .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nienna/40028/ In the People magazinethere is an article about your old belongingssoon to go to auction.Your many-colored pumpsline the bottom of a page,some still shiny red as new,others patent black,even gold.Some are scuffed and worn,still bearing the shape of your foot.Perhaps insidethe.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nienna/39715/  Night Shift Gin and cigarettesBhe always smelled of them..He drank until his pores exuded the scent of gin.The smoke of the day=s cigaretteswove its silver threads through his clothesto be absorbed into his skin.Nightly I wrapped myself in his blanketsto absorb it.Ou.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nienna/39711/  I do not expect love to bloom in February, like bulbs forced to blossom indoors. Even the early crocuses wait for March. In a sudden burst of hope the dandelions came early. Plucky flowers! Poking up their yellow heads towards a promising sun, that abandoned them to sudden fros.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nienna/39576/  He expects her now. Every time he turns a street cornerhe finds himself breathless.He has become a student of women’s lips,and of the delicate curve at the end of a nose,the subtle discrepancies in a nostril’s flare. In the half-empty métro he catche.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nienna/39546/  Jazz shimmers in the air like heat, notesdapple the room like sunlight through leaves.Jazz trickleslike water to thirsty lips.My lips are thirsty for something else,as I slide my finger around the rimof my Blue Monk Rita, licking off the salt, gazinginto the blue flame fli.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nienna/39461/