http://slow.writerscafe.org/Persephoneia The original writings of author Miss Coral en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776010195 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 if I could, I would write solar systems in the lines of your palms;you get lost so easilyso softly, like the murmursof closed doors in quiet hallwaysand I want you to know what it’s like to knowwho and where and what you are because feet tend to fumble whileedging past doors or broken locks--w.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/954926/ napo http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/953637/ napo http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/953505/ iseven stepsto homeor helleach foot is brokenand swinging loose from my anklescracking furtherlike leavesor stonesmy feet are softer, thoughcallousedbut not yet calcifiedthey still hurtwhen I step on the sidesand shift in great gasps. they still walkor swingagainst concretetoo caught in a curre.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/953504/ napo http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/953503/ more of a personal blog http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/831383/ don't even know how old this one is http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/831018/ kind of more prose poetry than anything else; probably quite cliche. definitely quite cliche. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/830091/ one of my very rare attempts at prose http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/830078/ old stuff http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/829520/ i.I’ve been trying to escape my shadow;it smells like cloves and cinnamon, a time I thought I forgot in the midst of all my dreaming. she complains I sleep too much, but my eyes never seem to quite close.my irises shift and sink and murmur from underneath their lidsand I&#201326.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/829517/ brought to something I thought was gone; a languid love, a godliness, weeping because the silence breaks my back when I relearn to breathe�" I have a singer’s breath, at least, but lost in my thoughts my lungs are still and my hands are still and my throat has forgotten to swallow .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/785519/ summer memories http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/784523/ There are lilies on the table; they smell like deep summer, like the girl in my bed, Sarah. I wake into stagnant hair, a touch of humidity and in the shallow afternoon sweat has curled itself into the nape of my neck. Sarah sleeps like she hasn't for years, quiet lips closed into quiet dreams that I.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/756191/ do you think jesus saw us?I would take anyone's ghost,anyone's skeleton to my mouth;bones churn through black and whiteand everything is grayscale inopen books, people arguing back and forth and forthand back, never explaining why it matters in the first placeand they call me a hedonist when I livea.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/756190/ I am vapour thin and porous, a fishnet of ideals, of literaturewashed up on a foreign shore and I collectthe wet pages with hands as wrinkledas the salty sentences and I will learn Spanish this summer; they call me bonita in the markets and I watch where I keep my money;there are.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/754357/ first poem I've written in a while--malaria http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/752012/ No idea what genre this really fits into; another struggle with prose about falling into words and learning to live off of them. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/749049/ needs a new title-- tiny little piece of prose. still figuring out this whole prose thing http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/747773/ I wrote this for a contest, but I don't write prose. Ever. SO, this is definitely an experiment of sorts for me. I apologize in advance. :) http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/747674/ not entirely sure what genre this would fall under (prose-poetry-prose) http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/741798/ III. I found him in my drinking glass.he was a birdsnest of limbs, torn into two fragmented men likea giant of myth rosy-cheeked blood-toothed giant that held me in his miniature palmas nothing but an empty skeleton, all the bones he'd taken from me before. he drilled h.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/739667/ II.I taste each second, spare, sour, and syllables break between my teeth like glass;there's a man peddling ceramic who lives under my tongue,singing blues to my bones, gathering with his slavesongthat's for no one but himself-- he takes the fragments, split by a minute, an hour, into.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/739666/ I.there's a man tunneling in my bones, hands carving scrimshaw, cracking soulwith shovel fingers and he keeps me stillwith a finger on my jaw, waking, achingunravelling in his tangle of tissue and tendons stretching cross my body:tangled muscles pop as I strain away--he whistles hollo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/739663/ series of poems http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/739660/ heavy caves cradle us in black,black paws pressed to warm belly wherewe fall into catatonic tonics, sweet bees gathered into taste of preparation, when deer flee our burrowing noses thatseek flesh like sun to the snow.we taste the pulse between our teeth, a gushof rubies mined from si.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/736989/ stages of grief http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/734770/ wisdom and elephants and cremated ancestors http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/734519/ runes carve sand scarabs into your embalmed armswings of tattered sails and false christ limbs unfurl at the helm of a ship whose belly is full of golden gobletsbones of thieves, curses cupped in jarswe cross rivers from floundering cats to crying sheepsacrificed under knives of river salt cleaning.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/728788/ an experiment of sorts http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/725575/ communion wine tasteslike organ pipes and jealous edens, wrappingtired stained glass skin around tongues we twist into frezied prayers; well, not we. them.the altar we lean against is a basketcase of flesh and blood: pseudonymic secrets they like to callworship, spoken soft like&.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/723919/ Valerie kept an awkward jaw, held shouldersstill too big for her fragile frame and poppies, red like her mouth, in timid hands. a doe voice and a step like fireflies laced her feet in the night,but she knew how nettle tasted in the back of her throat, and it lit her footsteps in the d.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/721904/ those old lynched creeds coat your childhood like the televangelists during dinner that told you just how much He loves us when we're good--ma nods with her knife, cutting carrots,"Yer gonna grow up to be nice 'n tall 'n good too, dontcha worry, no, it's in yer blood. Heaven's in.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/721088/ NaPo day 28 http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/719398/ definitely want to work on this one a bit more; NaPo Day 28. Title change needed. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/719303/ title change desperately need; day 27 of napo http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/718843/ napo day 27 http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/718842/ another for day 26--to be worked on http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/718300/ day 26 of napo http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/717999/ day 25 of napo http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/717998/ day 25 of napo http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/717997/ this new stuff is all from my NaPo http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/716238/ title change, please. sorry for the inactivity. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/716235/ This is really weird. I know. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/705953/ I'm doing NaPo, but haven't posted much on here- sorry. My poetry has changed, by the way... with the help of some friends, I'm slowly developing my voice. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/705946/ I have no idea what this is. I'm sick again, and sickness brings out the weird in me. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/692198/ also in need of some title advice c: http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/691817/ Tiny little random story--sorely in need of a name change. :) http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/691816/ Needs work. And a new title. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/688457/ She was the cracked ceramic tucked back in the corners of theantique shop by the sea, an ivory piece that the owner had a strangeattachment to and didn't want to sell-she was crouched in the scent of crocuses, limbs folded crisp like a paper crane, waiting for the audience's hush to tickle her lips .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Persephoneia/685837/