http://slow.writerscafe.org/Jill%20Martin The original writings of author J en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775963732 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Tiny, wet nosenudged my chin on his way into the pocket of my November coat; rain anddarkness settling one purely selfish, unilateral decision I cared not toexamine.  Two pounds of silky fur and atoo-big heart trembled against my hip as I shifted through gears of trepidationand determ.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/2862245/ i loved youbetween the fallennight sky and overbright mornings    left over           left unansweredrepeating . . . repeating. . . repeating taking no notice of weeonesstretched, stressed, paus.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/1813076/ It hums.white noise, the background symphonyheard only by herscattered, shattered. . .  a force of habit in decibels too low to . . .disturb She sees     and holds      and liveswith fragile wings a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/1796383/ Eighth Global Christmas Collaboration http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/1677609/ bear with me while i work through this ... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/1606184/ an old poem i still like ... simple but poignant in her devotion to him, misguided or not http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/1605332/ I was surprisedat my           relief when i finally deleted  you Because you see, as deeplyas you lived beneath dust and abeyance    you still held your placeamong memory markers     firsts and lasts.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/1594101/ Charcoal cloudbanks breakthe day to pieces;    split blankets andsheets when I’m too old,    it’s too coldand I don’t really    care. Accidental fatalities double the knot in my stomach;       .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/1519440/ Whispers drift and dissipate into a canopyof thedreams of youth,Two livesbound, still, by a diaphanous thread           . . . tattered nowby time   by tarnished illusions, protective barriers Foundagai.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/1499243/ warning: dark and and disturbing http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/1493764/ Winter . . .           I can see itturning around in the lightfolding the brittleness of summer intothe monotony of sharp sticks It is still . . .the music of daysthe angle of shadowsbumping into deeper blues.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/1448209/ she pauses to watchthe silver of the moonshimmer over winter-white fields      then sink beneath the snow and drownshe knows not what she creates    but she can feel it livingas the dark of her     exhalesand in a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/1272979/ they said i’d get used to these changes;           that collectionsof every moment of every day would all bealright as though ‘fine’ was still a choice i could make when i couldn’t bear .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/1227012/ The object of art is to give life ashape.                                          &.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/1190248/ these questions mutter to mein the quietest hoursbefore wee dawn ruffles my curtainsblowing naked chillsover smooth skin beneath a peculiar dreamof winged fingers fooling me        with the bluesy comfortofold friendspreservingme.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/1146572/ Inspired by the words of a friend whose words in a simple message are often poetry http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/1143618/ I wait.          Patiently. as his mind sorts out the thoughts                    [that silently beg the words]that won’t come &nb.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/1132769/ Yesterdaywinter coughed its final dying breath, I thinkon worn-down heels and amended determinations Had I not been dragging old newsdown the hill and aroundthe cornerI would’vemissed it That small bit ofimpudence -- one lastorches.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/1132633/ Sometimesthenightbecomes a windbreak from     anxietiesthat slither beneath my door    past barricades    of formidableFluff while shadows walk ceilingspast little deathsof imperfect fingers flying.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/1102318/ Dedicated to my poet friend, Michael, who moved on to loftier goals. I miss him. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/1094294/ I noticed just the other daywhen i turned my bluejeans  inside outa curious little note left in my penny pocketthat flickered and glittered as itfluttered to the floor . . . there it layas insubstantial as minutes unused     as untidy as .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/1084021/ I hold them in the palm of my handthey rest quietly against fingerscurled gently.  protective. Days and nights long and late . . .     they wink in noonday sunlike sea pennies through the star filter of my camera lens Thousands of them.  Each agiftheld out.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/1080842/ yellow roses for my nightstandbreathed whispers by my bedyou upon my pillow this you do instead http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/1079585/ Dove off the ledgeunplugged from the socketthat pumped bloody bloodtoo stunned when she got it Ninety-seven stories offthe ledge of her choosingpast planets and satellitesfree.fallingand      cruising Dead zone pr.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/1078795/ k. a bit of a departure, but i do write dark stuff occasionally :/ http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/1078691/ Bubble wrap and packing tape seam togetherthe years undone in this placeof changing landscapesone upon another     almost by studied design Here, where shadows hang from loft tobarefoot rugs belowof quiet books and overly-ambitious pillows     accidental .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/1078686/ How is itthat winds disturb the rhythm of days       at last sorted . .. colourless?stirring memories quietly humming      distant and diffusedof ink stains torn, smudged and finally put away tied with weary .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/1070466/ Quietly   so quietlythe door.clicked.   closed . . .and the words fell downin a tumble of notions andstarlight . . . like mica caught in eyelashesand tree tops   flickeringisinglass dancedalong unguarded h.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/1064964/ It was merely a faintwhisper, after all    surely lost in the twistof inimical windsa final sigh deeply scoring words unspokenheld within a velvet trembling as late blooms of summer’s endtuck their heads to a shortening sun    petals tightenagainst the ad.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/1055144/ When I think of what I set upon winds aloft       unbiddenin heaping accidents of certitude that.given to currents random, drifting     to find and fall andsurelysettle about your shouldersand eyelashesresti.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/1055025/ I wrote this 6 yrs ago--a month after that BRAIN THING and unpublished it rather quickly as I thought then it underscored my damaged self. But now I see it as I was simply vulnerable and a bit undone. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/1041320/ so blows the wind that blows within;frayed strands of isolation tuckedwithin the illusion of the simplest things;themes and schemes drawn in quarter notes on velumsit silently on the music rest ~ keys pressedin memory’s lockbox; bluejean buttonholes riddle her fingers like dandelion fluff.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/1030320/ Have a heart that beats with the wings of birdsin slow motion;Let it thump with the rotationof a revolving doorpushed by a small child; Let your heart beatto the rhythm of a slowdance at your parents’ weddingthat you did not attend; Listen .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/997550/ Be still . . . I can hear youineyelashes resting    on maiden cheeks withinthe chaos of a weary mindchancing blue grass in       fading denim insidethe curling petals      of a virtual yellow rose beyondsifting.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/993103/ . . . all of themas oneat once together      fell      from the night                                 skycascadingtumbling one upon the otherout of order.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/991947/ She wasIndian brown tanned in summer; a slave toclothes pins and snapping sheets on the line;           the gardener ofclimbing honeysuckle and jasmine;burnt hotdogs on the grill, the way I liked them. But mostly, she w.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/982876/ Heldwithin so sacredDeterminedly safe of a distance   just beyondher gentle misconception so very stillshe stands in the ruinsof melodies whispered between her thighsin rushing river waters of a more compelling silence   tugging soft tis.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/969750/ this is prolly one of the most honest [though willfully masked] pieces i've ever written, though i've no idea why it's here as it started out as something far far away from this http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/968362/ Blue touch paper thoughts squirm in her backpocket moth~eaten corduroy darkly sighing some willfind intellectual deficiency in herlandslideof misfortunespicked in pandemonium          fingered in se.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/964047/ my toes wiggle and coolout the open window of an old Chevy station wagonbumping down the road       . . . on the run dying sun playing prisms of concentric circlesa clink in a glass restingon my thighs pines and spruce duste.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/963989/ ihope maybe i haven't really lost my mind;    thatpaper isn't always buoyant    andink is highly soluble.iguess brain power truly is relative ... theseare probably journal thoughtsbutmy journal is overcrowded with politenessasif the only pers.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/958861/ rosycheeks ‘n runny nosesoggyboots ‘n frozen toeschatteringteeth ‘n quivering kneeswheni dream          tis of these http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/951869/ Umbrella-filled skies to catch bluerain and loose-leaf paper dragonssail through the arcaneSpeeding cars fly by in colours andshapes that hurt her eyesIt’s too easy to laugh when all shewantsis to cry With no voice save her ownshe sings to the music .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/943120/ String mea necklaceof giftsfrom the seaa lunareclipseof liquidbound’ryWrite allyour poemson theback of your handand readthem to meby stardust and sand http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/933837/ And darkness became herdefined and divined herconsumed and illumed her And over her shoulder, she’dlooked into the madness of despairand knew           the way of the world And the heart of her.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/928537/ A moment smudged and fadingwritten in the sandtide and time ambiguousunrecognized by this hand A dim light scarcely flickersin darkest lonely voidbeyond a rolling swelltoo far distant to tellif it might have been thelastfarewell http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/904665/ And so she surrenders      to the abrasionof less-gentle textures      chafing cheeks, whiskering bare floorsof moon.molds and tender feet     But it was always her choice of blossomsthat seemed to bruise at the delic.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/885044/ fingers spread on open window frost      waiting forthe cold goodbye  one tiny finger      held wobbly stillalights wings of iridescent      shimmerColoursknown only to God.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/873187/ Blue airon the streets and in your hairseeping into blood still travelingoxygen-lit and sweet Blue tearson your palms and beyond your yearswept upon the altar of things you've seenembedded in corneal lenses Blue wordson your lips and wings of bir.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/848197/ She bounced right off the inkling* * * * * * * golden rings and tinker bells winkingon tiny toes zzzzzzzzzzzinging * * * * * *   *   * through the galaxies * * * spinnnnnning* * * * * * * * *     * * aglitter, aflicker  ~ &n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Jill-Martin/837745/