http://slow.writerscafe.org/paulina83 The original writings of author paulina misiewicz en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775293575 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Haiku * practise must go on ;p http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/paulina83/1624870/ Haiku, inspired by my bunny rabbit (in the photo) whom I love much http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/paulina83/1623171/ http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/paulina83/1620039/ It was painful for them to watch you come in, on aFebruary dayswinging your mirthful hips, like a gnomon on asundial, stablebut casting shadows. ’Just leave the snow to be!’,you heard men shouting,though your iridescent, peahen’s train didn't flinchat .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/paulina83/1619505/ ....based on true events ;) http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/paulina83/1619457/ Thestrength of this woman was measured againsther tiring life. The jug filled up with sweat,  andher blood drizzled, then mine.   Shetravelled from the east to the west withdebris of her past. She wrapped them all up carefully.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/paulina83/1601499/ Frequently counted blessingsare laid on butterfly's wings,in themselves powerful speeches. The thin body arises from itskneeswith thumbs up, and a restlesseye of beholderwanders. Gloomy winds brush acrossrainbows,persisting to break leaves.It t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/paulina83/1600710/ You don’tcare, do you?I like dancing, driving With my leg against the wind,I like smoking. When I grind coffee beansIn this ash pan, older then you are reallyIt’s a blissful day.Hey, youcareless bully!Touching my skin with your filthy thumbDigging it i.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/paulina83/1600517/ I've written this poem last year, during the worst time ever (or months after that I should say)...though it will never be forgotten. He won't... ***In a memory of our unborn baby boy Dominic.**** http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/paulina83/1600412/ Long hours, they erase me,Minute by minute I shed my skinFrom the first eye opening to the last One silent blast of living, I heed. Time well spent, time wastedNo other matter can be so merciless,As all it needs is a blink of its whipNear to the exhausted head.&n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/paulina83/1600407/ Callyourself ‘perfect’I’llname you ‘a fool’You’llsee my cringed lipsInfectingyours,For Ican’t keep a straight faceAmongstfraudsters. You sellyour weaknessesCheaply,but DishearteningfactsCostmor.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/paulina83/1600405/ I enterthis garden each year, through the same, concrete stepsandfind heaven. Not the one with angels and sweet miracles, but sweatrunningdown the human spine. It burns through wounds on its way, I seethick-skinnedfingers holding a cigarette and smearing the soil on his forehead... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/paulina83/1600119/