http://slow.writerscafe.org/LeighBailey The original writings of author Christina en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776123277 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Several stories high,I am sitting cross-legged on the floorWith my head cocked up at you;The empty blue of an evening skyPours through a windowRisen high above your hometownOf rice fields, young boys on bicycles,And crotchety old men with long earlobes;You are lying on your back in b.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LeighBailey/1811675/ From a writing prompt I found: "Describe a day at the playground from the perspective of a child." http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LeighBailey/1787845/ This is based on a daydream I had while listening to a track off one of my favorite films (Synecdoche, New York) called "Little People." http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LeighBailey/1786220/ If you never say what you feel, no one will ever know. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LeighBailey/1784240/ A poem for an old friend who was only ever a friend. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LeighBailey/1779143/ Forgive meFor not writing to youLately.You've waited through the years,And I neglect your yearning,Abuse your leaves,Corrupt your mind;I am a wicked owner,And yetI cannot lie to you:I am still your bichette.You are my god,My slave,My friend,My lover;You are my child.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LeighBailey/1778581/ “No,That date didn’t go well,How could itAfter I saw you there?AndWhy do you ask?You know exactlyWhat you do to me;You just like to hear meSay it.You know damn wellI’m stillHung up on you.” http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LeighBailey/1778249/ This poem was inspired by the time my mother told me she resented her cousin for committing suicide. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LeighBailey/1777684/ And when my body is foundSuspendedUnder the bridge--Will it be this demon they see,Or his victim? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LeighBailey/1774843/ I want to come crashing down out of the rain cloudsThat loom over a dark and silent and mysterious forest,And I want gravity to snatch me up and entrap me in a suffocating embrace,As if Lucifer himself stretched his arms up from the depthsJust to grab me and drag me down into the deepest pit.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LeighBailey/1772208/ Today I discovered this piece in my drafts, something I wrote several months ago while, ahem, very stoned. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LeighBailey/1772111/ My water was poisoned with wordsWhen I was just a sapling,And for lack of a better choiceMy roots soaked them all up,Life and Death spread throughout me,Every limb, every vein,Every thought in my mindBattlegrounds of a fight for dominance.Children have hung tiresFrom my branches,Robins eggs have hat.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LeighBailey/1654229/ It was the summer of 1999, and I spent the entirety of it lounging on the sidewalk of a street you could find on the outskirts of town, far away where the roar of the city could not stretch its arms far enough to intrude on the hushed environment. The sun nearly cooked me alive that summer and.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LeighBailey/1649269/ This is a short story I'm creating about... well, I suppose it's about one's place in life and how we are all victims of circumstance. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LeighBailey/1649236/ A poem about my relationship with God. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LeighBailey/1645534/ A poem about memories. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LeighBailey/1644383/ I grew upAs two soulsGrew apart,What was onceThick and sweetLike honeyEvaporated Like thin stale waterIn the summer heat,And I wonderedIf the honeyWas ever honey to begin with,Or if it was simply waterPretending for thirteen yearsTo be something better than it was.You.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LeighBailey/1643295/ My most intimate connectionsExist with corpsesLain in the groundBefore my own parentsWere ever born,Shot in the head andStuck in an oven,Seems like an omen sometimes. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LeighBailey/1643242/ The life of a housewife who cannot share her true self with anyone even if it means saving her marriage. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LeighBailey/1641292/ I have a bad habit of comparing myself to other women and I decided to turn that bad habit into a poem. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LeighBailey/1638623/ I thought I'd write something in celebration of the first day of fall. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LeighBailey/1638514/ Sometimes when we’re in the carI wonder to myself what it would be likeTo drive off a bridgeStraight into the Puget Sound,I listen to the song on the radioAnd I imagine it playingAs I plunge toward my death,I can feel my stomach Rising through my throat,The centripetal force.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LeighBailey/1637836/ Oh, just the typical poem about an ex-girlfriend. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LeighBailey/1637163/ This is about no one in particular, simply something I think a lot of women can relate to. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LeighBailey/1636115/ The snow lies dazzlingly white,Pure and unblemished,The lids of my eyes flutterTo soothe the burning,The only sign of movement isThree buzzards peacefully circlingIn the sky.I look at you,And you stand so beautiful,So silent, so composed,As if Michelangelo sculpted youWith hi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LeighBailey/1635868/ A poem about my parents. I wrote the bones of it a long time ago and decided to finally polish it up a bit. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LeighBailey/1635265/ This is inspired by a journal entry I wrote back in August, referring to my bipolar and social anxiety disorders as an ocean I have to swim through to reach my true self. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LeighBailey/1634931/ I've been in a depressive episode for a month now, maybe longer. Everything has lost its taste and eating has become a chore. I thought of this today when I noticed my visible shoulder blades. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LeighBailey/1634385/