http://slow.writerscafe.org/writurgurl The original writings of author Hannah Ellsworth en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776086416 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Her smile, like a reminderfrom better dayslingered in the corner,watching as the rest of herwaited for the crowdto go home. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/writurgurl/1394209/ I hate myself for what I cannot be. All I ever wanted Was to be your hero. But paving paths in the woods Is difficult when you're the firstTo walk them What I'd give to be moreThan this sad clownWith a painted smile,Melting in the rain. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/writurgurl/1394131/ Where Did April Go Down train tracks through bogsAnd hay fieldsIt fled like your laughterChasing rain.I wanted to believeIn your protectionLike a veil, making us invisibleFrom themAnd bills and wars overseas andThe reality of your apathy.I fell to my knees in AprilOpene.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/writurgurl/1394129/ I am learning to forgive myselfEvery time I fall down. The bruises on knees,All of it. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/writurgurl/1394127/ You asked me yesterday if I rememberThat long drive on Highway 65;how we stalled at the sideof that stretch,trailing love like a wiser man's fingerin the dust along troughs in the bread basket.How the world was so large in that vast, empty placeOf growing;and yet we could see the e.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/writurgurl/1393942/ Oh, it is true:you are a face to remember.When cities have fallenand stories are writtenin our ashesby our childrenthey will remember your facelike a promise;like a half-forgotten deity;like a beaconacross the lake of my childhood,your face - in passing,our footprints in the sand, mere met.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/writurgurl/1393001/ I ignored the warning,Opened my heart too early.Unleashed chaos.Now all that remains is this feeble hopein the bottom of a heartleft hanging open,door swinging on broken hinges.But you can take thislittle piece of hopewith you;it's all I have left to give. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/writurgurl/1386772/ A stream of consciousness. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/writurgurl/1384057/ I cannot live with myself any more. I am shedding this costumeof skinand ideas that I gatheredbut were never mineto keep.This self I tried to get along withnever had my best interestsin mind. I think I can livewithout you now. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/writurgurl/1381553/ I wear you like a pair of shoesthree sizes too small. There are holes poking through now;tongues get tiredand souls do have lifespansmeasured in miles. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/writurgurl/1380953/ This one isn't as good as soe of the others I've posted... I wrote it in a notebook at a festival last week while promoting my latest book and wanted to put up all the poems I wrote during that time. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/writurgurl/1377105/ Sly devil.I wonder if she even knewshe was flirting with me.I hope she findswhat she's looking for,even though it would be strange,not to be her favouriteanymore.I thank higher powersthat they didn't knowwhat they were doingwhen they triedto clip her wings.I always knew one day she would flybeyond t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/writurgurl/1377102/ People always follow butterfliesflying past them.Maybe I would earntheir admirationif I flew past them too,pretending I'm not watching themwatch me go. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/writurgurl/1377101/ Shoot me, throw me off a cliff,then maybe these wordswill mean something.Mame me, slice off my arms,then maybe these wordswill reach someone.Decapitate me, abandon me in the wildernessuntil my corpse lips are frozen blue.Only then might they hear these wordsand listen. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/writurgurl/1377100/ Do you still think about possibilitiesthe way you used to talk about tomorrows? I always hoped I'd be one of your possibilities,But I'm still waiting for your tomorrowsthat never came. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/writurgurl/1376408/ Sitting in a small town library. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/writurgurl/1376310/ She is survived by a single poemto remember her.The one she keptand nurturedinto maturity,long after herbloodline fadedinto schedulesand Christmas cardsand phone calls that stretchedinto a long-winded, "I don'tmiss you. It's nothingpersonal."Her magnum opusspans lessthan half a page.But it will surv.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/writurgurl/1376261/ When I ask, she tells me I amthe perfect sizefor writing.Sometimes I see the worldI wish I could be bigger.When I swam the first nightin darkness,I remember before everything,when I was stillso small.Only shecould ever make methe perfect size. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/writurgurl/1376258/ Whoever had the bright idea that I should be selling my grandmother's muffins at the farmer's market obviously had not taken into account the fact that I was mute. Perhaps my family thought that by forcing me to interact with tourists I would develop an integral sense of moral responsibility toward .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/writurgurl/1376239/ A young woman is sent to live in the rural town of her childhood after a horrific tragedy has rendered her mute. Only after meeting a lonely caricature artist does she rediscover her voice. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/writurgurl/1376235/