http://slow.writerscafe.org/toska The original writings of author E. A. Lide en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776018892 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 O, sweet Thursday melody,O, still and silent pond:I skip stones across your surfaceand wonder what's beyond.I sit on this rock beside you,dip my toes and sigh and yawn,and look at my reflection,and wonder what's beyond.O, quiet humming whisper in my ear when it is dark,O, glass of wine at sunset:how.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/toska/1690004/ A song for my lover, a hundred miles away. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/toska/1652783/ A snippet from my current novel project. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/toska/1455816/ A delayed declaration. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/toska/1432458/ Imagine waking with the woman you always dreamt you'd sleep beside. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/toska/1375009/ You are the starlight and itssubsequent dawn.You are the doorstep the cat leaves itsfindings on.You are every speck of dust dancing inany first-light's beam.You are roses and daises and the smellof rain in spring.You come in hues and blues and manyshades of grey.You dance among t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/toska/1371924/ Loveis nothing more than a therapist,andan unlicensed one at that.Aperson who claims to search for loveisdoing nothing more than lying to themselves.Forwhat they search for is not lovebuthappiness, eternity, and perfection.Theysearch for ideas and ideals which do not exist... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/toska/1371921/ She looked back towards me, her expression serious. “Have you ever tried, Daniel? To fly?” http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/toska/1371536/ Your breath is smoke in the wind.Smoke comes from fire, there's a firewithin your chest.Burning, slowly churning, charring, smoking like ham in a smokestack.Like a cigarette: red-lit tip and anicotine addiction.There's tar in your lungs,pitch-black lined like a dark night.And you.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/toska/1371533/ I think that Darkness is afraid oflight, which is whyhe always hides under your bed and yourcovers during the day.And in the closet, where there are manysoft clothes, and shadows,which cloak him sufficiently enough, atleast.Sometimes, when you’re looking, youcan find him tuck.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/toska/1371343/ ... and I love you the same. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/toska/1371331/ Come along, my love, and we will go downto the place where the river meets the stream.We'll follow it north, leave prints in the groundwhere the mud takes the shape of our bare feet.Come along, my dear, and we will walk upthe sloping hill at the edge of this town.We'll sit in the grass and fill up o.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/toska/1371312/ Yourmother and your father will sit across from your brothersandyour sisters, and whisper, and hold hands, and pray, “Wedidn't mean for her to turn out this way.Wheredid we go wrong? What did we do wrong?”Andyou remember when your mother grabbed your arm and.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/toska/1371308/ Whenthe darkness closes in among us, upon us,andit falls, and it breaks like dawn.Whenthe fog settles down among us, upon us,willwe fall like rain? Break like china dolls?Well,I don't have the answers.Socratesand I relate much more closely.AndI can tell you that the ear.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/toska/1371304/ Doyou still think of me under that cold December rain?Andall the times that we said we'd be reborn to live again?Oh,but a door was open- left me entry to your heart;andI got lost in there, got lost.Oh,I'm waiting for you to come and rescue me.Oh,I'm waiting for you, so come.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/toska/1371303/ Ihave condemned many more men than I have saved.Ihave sent so many young men to their graves.AndI have asked help of no-one, even those I claimed to love,andI have spent so many nights alone.Ihave dreamed many more dreams than I have lived.Ihave done many terrible things, w.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/toska/1371301/ I’vegot blood on my blade and red in my ledger,buta pure white shade is my favourite colour.AndI won’t let myself sleep when it’s dark,forthe night-whispers know my heart.I’vegot death in my name and I’m undercover,wrappedup in the sheets of ne.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/toska/1371297/ Doyou remember that one timewhenyou thought you loved a personmorethan anything in the world?Butonce you had themyourealisedthatyou didn't want them any more,andthat you never truly loved them at all,youonly ever loved the idea of them.Likea toy a child wants for mo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/toska/1371294/ There’sa darkness in the candy sitting on your bedside table,inthe creamy mousse-filled centre, caramel.There’sa darkness in the foil open on your bedside table;inthe semen, in the condom, on your desk.There’sa darkness in your heart, in your chest.There&rsq.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/toska/1371291/ Herlove is the moon above January's first snow,andthe snow itself.Itis the light powder underfoot that the night-breeze blows intoflurries through a heavy fog.Itis soft, it is patient, and it is calm.Itis the water running east through creeks in August.Itis the wind in June,therain.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/toska/1371287/ Thereis a house upon a hillwherea willow once stood.Itswalls are painted blueandmade of ageing wood.Bunniesburrow ’neath the floorsandin the attic Robins roost-Ithink that maybe I would liketolive in this house with you.Iknow it isn't much, my dear,but.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/toska/1371283/