http://slow.writerscafe.org/pouchloune The original writings of author Dandelion en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776031879 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 It's Monday morning, the classroom wall clock reads 7:05, but it really is 8:30. Half of the students are at their desks chatting, and I'm sitting in the second row, on the right. As I open my biology textbook to check on where we left off last Friday, the ear-piercing bell rings and a few stud.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/pouchloune/2051408/ Jess's goes sky diving with her best friend. She hopes that she'll get through that dangerous experience quickly without a bump... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/pouchloune/1703052/ Here is another French poem with the translation below. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/pouchloune/1447671/ Je ne voyais que tes yeuxTels des voleurs lors d’une séductrice nuitUn regard impénétrable dont je me croyais amoureuxComme des cristaux tout noirs de suieOù la pluie battait sa peineJe savais que tu étais là à jouer ta musiqueDe tes.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/pouchloune/1411989/ A French poem I wrote while listening to waltz music. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/pouchloune/1408678/ Time goodbyes with the passing seasonsAs the flow of entity finds it's wayTo the path that results in discoveryOf earth's infinite hidden equationsIt requires wisdom to utter knowledgeTo truly know and stop the allegeSubsisting to brilliant scientific calculationsAs we grow each day wi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/pouchloune/1406708/ When I was little Curious and small Fairytales and adventures Were painted upon my wall My head stuffed with imagination I lived with no boundaries Delighted by new activities Amazed by a new inventions I was invisible and free Happy of .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/pouchloune/1400238/ In the honour of the national Acadian festival, showing my pride and happiness to be a French speaking Acadian. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/pouchloune/1399278/ Hearing the sound of a powerful breeze blowing swiftly, I gaze at the warm leaves hanging from their soaring branches. As the fresh autumn air pushes against my back, I immediately feel energy streaming from my crown to my toes. I feel free… alive. I count ten long seconds before finally.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/pouchloune/1386990/ http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/pouchloune/1386989/ And each night, they meet once again... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/pouchloune/1381628/ Tic. Tic. Tic... For many years now, I've been unconsciously hearing the same sound since the day I was born. Professionally carved in cedar, this small clock was made for me by my father, a talented woodworker. He was a secretive man but was recognized as the best woodworker in Calgary.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/pouchloune/1380319/ Tight chignonand ballet pink tights Her radiantcostume glittering from spotlights Effortlesstour piques and arabesque A strongsilhouette, entirely statuesque Fluidchoreography danced to perfection Inspiring oneand all with admiration .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/pouchloune/1369115/ A first in musical history: The World Orchestra! http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/pouchloune/1368163/ A trip to the enchanting country of Italy can change your life forever... it did for me. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/pouchloune/1368158/