http://slow.writerscafe.org/RebeccaMay The original writings of author Becky en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776042580 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 I wrote this poem because every holiday in my father and step-mother's home, they would argue or fight with each other. The holidays were never a happy time for us. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RebeccaMay/1214385/ Again there was no real inspiration for this poem either. The words just flowed out. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RebeccaMay/1214380/ I was watching a crime show and I began to think, what if the crime committed was an accident? The only reason to punish them would be out of malice for them, or something else. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RebeccaMay/1214374/ There really wasn't anything that inspired me here. The words just flowed out. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RebeccaMay/1214359/ I got my inspiration for this from my own thoughts on a haven for the weary city living person. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RebeccaMay/1214248/ I wasn't so much inspired by anything as I was just lost in though one day and the words spilled out. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RebeccaMay/1214227/ I was inspired by a beautiful spring day outside my window. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RebeccaMay/1214224/ I was sitting in the truck and we passed a pet shop. I got to imagining what a conversation between a smitten father and his cute little girl. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RebeccaMay/1214170/ I have no idea what inspired me for this poem. I was just sitting around, and all of a sudden I was looking for paper and something, anything to write with. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RebeccaMay/1214163/ I was inspired by my children. You know there is no such thing as a perfect parent. Including me. No matter what small thing I might have said or done, they love me anyway and I them no matter what. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RebeccaMay/1214157/ My inspiration for this poem was the fog itself. I was sitting out on my steps watching the fog creep around and through things. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RebeccaMay/1212980/ My inspiration for this poem is from watching mothers being left behind weather it be in death or war. Fathers the same whether knowing or not knowing when their loved one is coming home. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RebeccaMay/1212977/