http://slow.writerscafe.org/tssmith9 The original writings of author Bera PT en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776065992 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 An ode to John Keats Ode to a Nightingale. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tssmith9/1953424/ I watch, if not for only the moment,I am glad that you're having a good time.And I'm glad that you got what you wanted, that was my wish.And I still love you, even if I don't show it.I back away to seal the night for myself,I know this is what you want.I know that you have no room for me in your lif.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tssmith9/1640213/    That night, my grandfather decided to take me out with him for the evening. There was an old back road in town that everyone knew about it. It was just a big loop through the forest. Kids hung out there all the time and they were always driving circles around it. There wasn't a whole lo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tssmith9/1594906/ An intricate metaphor. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tssmith9/1584653/    Let me take a couple steps back: Katie wasn't the only one who called me during those three weeks. Luke did as well. He called almost as much as Katie did.    That night, after I got back from Katie's, I was still feeling pretty shell-shocked. I mean, I had gotten some pretty .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tssmith9/1509884/    I was in my boxers when she stormed into my room. I hadn't done anything other than shower and brush my teeth for the last three weeks. My hair was disheveled and long, not to mention the beard I had grown. I looked like a helpless child stuck inside a man's body.   "Get up." .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tssmith9/1509468/    They say that writers write because they have no choice but to write. For whatever reason, their emotions would implode in an enormous shower of pain, joy, or whatever, if they didn't get it out. Which is why I finally decided to get this all down on paper. If I didn't, it likely would .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tssmith9/1509056/    I got home that night around six or seven. My grandfather was sitting on the porch swing. That ridiculous blue paint was actually starting to grow on me, I won't lie.   As I was walking up those old steps I turned to my grandfather:   "Hi!" I said.   "How y.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tssmith9/1508969/    "Oh that's not good." I said.   "I'm sorry, Tyler, you're the first boy I've kissed!" Katie said.   I laughed.   "No Katie, not that." I said. "Turn around."   When Katie turned around all she saw was her dad's back as he was walking to his car. H.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tssmith9/1508461/   He looked up at her. He had tears in his eyes. He knew she was so close to leaving. He could see it in her eyes. His heart felt like a dead-weight. It just sat there, down at the bottom of his stomach. He knew she was leaving. He felt it when he tried to kiss her and she ducked away. He knew .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tssmith9/1464093/ Red is the color of love, lust, pain, life, blood, passion, and anger. It is the color of Tyler Pate, an outsider in the town of Muskogee, Oklahoma, who learns a lot about love and the past. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tssmith9/1463121/