http://slow.writerscafe.org/markjunor The original writings of author MARK JOHN JUNOR en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776027402 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 she wondered at when her heart had become winterboundwhen the lovely garden had been overgrown by sorrow and angerwondered at how long she could pine for a love lost beforeit consumed her very soulshe strayed each day through sketches she had drawn captured happiness expressions of soulwhimsical mom.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1766001/ she set a polish to the brass pipeswith a careful hand she worried themhours like a silent moving contemplationshe worked her way from one end ofthe massive machine to the otherknowing every rivetevery dent and scratchthe hot steam leaving a sheen of sweat on herthe machines labored breathing filled.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1750467/ she unburdened herher faraway daydreamer heartfanciful and brightwhere she treasured a beautiful home forall the sweetness she had always carried aroundas a book of poems she had been writing since she wasa little girlfar from the work-a-day life she livedfar from today's troubled cloudsa winter won.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1749476/ the silence of the room feels forgivingso i wrap myself up in its comforting warmthhold out with trembling fingers a bittersweet morsel a few cautious words of beautiful lamentan emotional plea of constructed images to findmy grace in the arms of a long lost loveto find the forgiveness all men need .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1730954/ moody girlresting her head on mewhile i purge my thoughts to the pagespilling like a dark red wineits all sticky but the words lay down in complacent indifferencei prod them with a wooden stickwishing they would run and flywishing they would speak with their own voicebut they only give a sluggish li.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1726938/ requiem for the immaterial manhis pauper pockets clean but emptyhe stitches his threadbare life with a careful handthis is the latter half of the twentieth century manand his well spoken mind sees the writing on the wallknows the disease of market minded wall street dreamersand the throw away class .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1725352/ my smile so unlike a vagrant only wanders the backstreets off her heartleaning on the lampposts of tenderness while her storybook temptress casual apparel lures my pervert tendencies ever onward to the gates of her pearly pink sweetboxshe leans heavy into that come hither lookshe desires dark things.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1724999/ her heaven interrupted she waits there by the wooden doorburned into its crispy surface is a poem aimed at her hearta poem in the form of a imagea graceful piece illustrated to the minds eyea flowing of words and thought that onlya great painter could put to canvasit was of a love she knew many year.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1723895/ this long hour that she's refusing to speak to mewe sit in the bedroom opposite sidesthe tv goes unheard in the cornersoftly whispering nonsense to itselflike a madman she is sitting with her perfumes and paintslooking distantly into the mirrori study her face from across the roomgrasping for words .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1722202/ this dark heaventhis treasured placea promise of pleasurethe stain of human gesture brought and soldbleak for its beauties of the eye to beholdstrained against the leash which holds it to the streetit too has dreamswishes held close to the heartspoken aloud only in whispers of the nightfaces carved .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1720479/ my blue sky dream forsakeni now chase the ever faster rabbit of promised fairy talehis pronounced face forever plastered on billboardsand barroom halls wanted postersafter all don't we all wish at some point or anotherto chew the gristle of god's little plan for each of us  to get down to .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1719702/ some punk rock band on the radioplays transparently hopeful echoes of some quick romancewhile she lounges on the couch in a see-thru dresssmoking expensive french cigarettes her dreadlocks spread round in the morning sunlightbut her sunglasses out of context in the small roomshe is the definitive ar.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1719382/ out to seacountless miles hand to the tillerto find that brief momenton the crest of a twenty foot breaking waveas a nor'easter wilds the seawhen you glimpse itin the stillness between heaven and earthshe hid in her bedroomlooking at a late fall paris passing rainstormand on the run down east side f.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1719003/ the open field before uswas a tall grass of a butternut yellowit swayed in the breeze liquid almost aliveshe lead me forwardcalling back to me over her shoulderwith a broad smilethe sun caught in her hairbut her smile overwhelms the sunlightand she remained to me within sightas the rest of the world.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1715423/ her mind once well groomed as a summer skyjoy interlaced with her tearsi see the enchanted waters of her hearts inner seasailing ships painted there so regal and powerfulthey plunder the waters for its most intimate secretsfor its most fragile dreamsi see myself reflected there all the hopes and dre.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1712698/ these pale lips that soswiftly rob me of my strengththese honey sweet lipsfrom which such soft words like butterfly logicdo so entangle meand tie such aching around my very soulwith such a tight gentlenessthese pale lipsthat i reach over and with one finger drawn slowly across them i do shudder from.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1711995/ make her smile with some small thingand i love so much the light in her eyesmake her giggle with some silly thingand i love so the sound of her joyher romance necklace breaks just soshe delicately wraps me up in her armsshe wants to wear me insteadtight oh so tight can feel her heartbeating against .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1710119/ safe in the fortress of my hearti looked out on the mysteries of my worldreveled in the complex dance of lovers united inburning desires and passionate lovesand then i heard a distant swansongheard a distant love affair promised behindsuch lovely phrases and alluring photographsbut as the truth of i.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1709613/ her endless summer dreamgathers dust on its sand encrusted photo of beach blanket love affairsjet planes departing for distant landsshe had her five and dime sunglassesand a transistor radiotuned to the cheerful forever summer songstill has that picture of her in the fall of 66hamming it up for the .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1708949/ her single shot pistol is smoking as you walk inher blushing bride smile is a dead give awaythat something is amisshe left a ballroom waltzworth of footprints all over her smileshe persuades you to rent a buick 'and take the pursuit on the roadso the three of us head south on the us-1to some strange.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1708154/ pale as a whispered winter windshe sat in the amber glow of the streetlightwith her cascading delicate blonde hair disheveledher blue eyes distantgaze out the window to the fierce winter nightbetween theatrical sobs spins out the taleof her sorrowspointing with a trembling hand at the windswept stre.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1707591/ but she was handwritten in a digital worldher eye fixed on jacob's sweaty ladderbecause always gotta climb over the corpse of yesterdayshe had the worldly sense about herthe grand sweeping gestureto encompass all seen and all implied to show your heart is in it for the long haulhe watched her strugg.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1707019/ in the spanish quarterher eyes fixed on the dim light passageas she awaits the coming hand of deceptionswith her recital of whispers like a prayershe sweats openlyto her its a pressure point at the breakingits a devils delight in the black heart of evil menso as the wick of her flame clings to its p.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1706495/ beheld by the timid heart with hopeful intentany life seems both bold and beautifulseems to be the essence of perfectiondesirable and meant to be bound up with true loves giftsbut such dreams are fleeting and swiftly abandon the dreamerleaving the coarse and the cold reality's behindbut there is the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1705654/ never before let it blossom like roses in such fairest sunlighthe was a man of wildernessstrong and sure in his waya creature of knowing and doinga stranger to this game of light and shadowof loves falsely promised and tenderness teasedof loves true touch tenderness felt in unison with another soula.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1704533/ immortal in my heartare the moments with her in my embracelost myself in her tender lovesher unspoiled gaze is the home iv soughtall my lifethe warm seasons of my heartbelong to her like two summer suns together we live as oneforever in the beautiful illusions of summers everlasting daysand deep pur.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1702583/ time moving....twist the words into meanings unkempt and strangeor simple and puretwist them till you see yourself in themthen speak them clear and loudspeak in tongues if that spins your lily's but make sure your heardits not weak to be silentbut it takes strength to speakto make yourself heard abo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1702165/ the television whispers and flickersits the only sing of life in thethick heat of the semi-darknessthe air itself takes on a life of its ownclosing in around you personal heavy confiningyou speak to the empty roomjust to put a tangible lapse in the silencea sickly thin line of sunlight  wr.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1701461/ the child walks down north avenuethe world around him are hues of autumnhe knows every crack and crevice of the sidewalkhe has made this trek a thousand timeshome from roosevelt school in wykagylpassing the time dreaming boyish dreamsof traveling to far away strange and wonderful placesof knowing pe.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1700981/ the white language of snowfall layperfectly still where sunshine once warmeda shaft of light pierces the evening tide of falling snowflakesa point of reference for the weary footfall ofthe man heading homewarm sweet homehis steps retraced leave one withthe enduring feeling that this vast sea of snow.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1699923/ the shifting pattern of smoky sunshinein the leaves brightly green in the light overheadmake a soft sound in the edge of a warm breezebreath it in and taste its freshness with your minds eyemy hand moves in the blades of grassthe turn aside with ease and leave behinda trace of memory in fingertipsmy.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1696110/ feather light i drift in a dreamfeel the sun's breath on my facefloating eternal upon warm summer breezeforever between dusk and first lightthe sweetest sense of reality reflected in minds eyewhere i find the shopping cart in parking lotthe scattering of cracks in the pavement paints a masterpiece o.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1691988/ breath on...breath on for me my lovesoftly for mehope on for mebecause your more than a dream to meyour more than a flickering face in the distanceyour the cradle of loves enduring firethe  birth of feeling something beautifulthe red wineslips slowly thru her fingersits sticky thickness cl.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1691737/ her lucid momentswhile dozen starlings take flightthey sweep up into the free wind from pavementscattered by careless child at some gamethey roll in turbulent airand gift the new born day with melodies sweet enoughto lull even this madwoman's mindi cant even find my way out of the dark puzzle patter.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1688997/ far out to seadeep in wild woodsin the crisp dawn on the high desertthere are still places it can be heardbut it takes a heart to hearit takes a labor of lovecountless miles hand to the tillerto find that brief momenton the crest of a twenty foot breaking waveas a nor'easter wilds the seawhen you gl.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1687452/ a girl leaning on a posther lips carve poems in december airsunlight surrounds her like a songi watch her from the windowentranced by knowledge of her soft soulshe is speaking quiet dreams into golden sunlight the softer lines of her form painted in sharply bright colorsbluejeans tightly round herha.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1682354/ winter calls meease into the walking awaymaybe it'll all have meaning somedaymaybe it will all be clear to mewhen iv found the home iv searched for all these yearsi can watch the snowflakes fallspiral round and downintermittent feelings bring me back winter calls me so quietlythat its sound is no mo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1681127/ in nightfall's grey hourlook intently into the reflectionpeer into the face looking back at metrying to find the flaw in the heart of that stranger i seeseeking to mend what cannot beif you look within you will never seewhat is and what should berain infects the last of the daylightand i walk out in.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1679295/ my empty hands sprawled the healers of magical minds watch intentlyas i rush to speak all my madness thoughtsas i spill the visions and voices that come to me in the nightthe pour out onto the madhouse floorstained like blood red winesharp taste to the minds electric eyewrap tin foil around your fin.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1677889/ the best of my yesterdaysis where i sleepthe smile that returns to meis from the loves i knewthe sunlight a little crisperthe joy a little clearerwhen i was a young manin those years agolook backand see with clarityall i know nowand all i thought i knew in my yesterdayswisdom written on a new pagebu.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1677789/ the sound of approaching horsementhunders in the dry spaces of my mindthey are so loud i cannot stand itdeep waters run swiftand the thoughts that run there are bittersweethumble me kneeling before that open gaze before that terrible birthright a mask of soft steeleyes encroaching on my steadfast he.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1677274/ the leaves turn as they falltwisting on the breeze in a dance of winters hand on my worldhurry along the patheach footfall scattering the leaves with a dry rasping soundwinter cold the air harshly grasps at meas landscape spread in brilliant white snowfallmakes a trial of this inevitable trek in mor.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1677219/ this whole empty room thingwill be the death of mecant stand another day of the echoing darknessmocking my every wordspoken softly with tired lipsbleed me slow of ideaswatch it all circle the drainthis whole empty room thingall the people said it would be so good for meall the people thought what a .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1676538/ for a brief momentcaught in rememberingvividly she came back to methe sunlight on her facestrands of her reddish blonde hairfloating free in the small space between uswhat words passed between uslong since faded but the heart remembers the love known between us that daywith a clarity that speaks so .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1676202/ sepia paintings of days long since gonethe rattle of a shopping cart at two amthe sounds of leaves stirred by wind in the golden glow of streetlightthe close smell of the car my mother drovethe oil and vegetables perfume and cigarettesthe summer sunlight shattered to pinpoints on the lakes waterits .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1675030/ beauty in a boxlook at her blushwe dream little foolish dreams of hershe just smiles and asks for coinsher hair dyed blue and silverher eyes dyed greenher pouting lips curlat the trash mouth who talks in such little lettersyou rebound with compliments and roseslittle gestures she gets all the d.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1674746/ six am and darkness still prevailsher casual morning disheveled shuffle to the coffeestill beautiful to meand so entranced i loose myself in thoughtcome up behind her in the mirrorand brush my lips along her neckshe smiles and teases with a laughwe chat over our breakfast about the day now breaking .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1674031/ her face is what my heart paints into this whirlwind of conflicting imagesher velvet voice just within perception beneath wild windcalling my name with reassurance and empathyintensity of the night tries again and again to overwhelmbut the grainy vision of my confusions cannot withstandfragments sha.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1671566/ distant television noise echoes down the hallwaydistortedfragilesoftly penetrating like warm raincovering the senses thick with trepidation she sips the cold waterwith dry lipsher hand brushing her hair back constantlylike a nervous tickyou can taste the miles traveled in her eyesher ragge.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1670863/ a snow filled winter wind rushes in my thoughtsbut it is in the silence between our spoken wordswhere my heart caresses each line of her beautyand swims in the heat of her eyes entwined in minewhere her heart desires minewhere spoken truths are just areflection of the deeper fires of our soulsand th.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/markjunor/1670542/