http://slow.writerscafe.org/freshmankiki The original writings of author anonymously anisha en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776042588 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 He came down for the funeral, a cold and glassy Saturday morning. The dry grass was glazed with speckles of frost, not white like snow or crystalline like ice, but a dull shade of gray. Everything was gray that day: the pavement, the sky, my hands (wretchedly clammy, rubbed together for warmth). It .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/freshmankiki/750077/ To someone whose hot and knows it http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/freshmankiki/632968/ We're all in this together http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/freshmankiki/618620/ I'm sorry :( http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/freshmankiki/618587/ From self-pity and depression to hopefulness for the future, life can and should change in an instant. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/freshmankiki/617603/ A sonnet chastising copycats of the "anonymous poet" http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/freshmankiki/615358/ An apology to my other classes for spending so much time on AP English http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/freshmankiki/615356/ I wrote this as a warning my English teacher to stop attempting to ascertain the identity of the "anonymous poet." :) http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/freshmankiki/615354/ A spin-off of Gwendolyn Brooks's "We Real Cool" and Joan Murray's "We Old Dudes" http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/freshmankiki/615353/ A poem I wrote about AP English Lit - I turned it in anonymously to my teacher and my whole class loved it~ http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/freshmankiki/615351/ I never wanted to forget this nap! http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/freshmankiki/615350/ A poem about a guy who is always there for me http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/freshmankiki/612381/ To Stephen House http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/freshmankiki/611825/ I was inspired to write this when I interned in the radiation sector of the cancer center. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/freshmankiki/611678/ I ruined the end of this poem. I wrote it a long time ago, and I'm not sure why I did it, but I feel like it would be wrong to go back and change it. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/freshmankiki/611675/ At the museum gift shop,among knick-knacks and rock candy,I found a beautiful stone heartand bought itwith the hope to give it away.My heart sat in my backpack, my dresser,on my mahogany bookshelf.Forgotten.Waiting patientlyfor that one special day.It was a heart of stone,grew colder .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/freshmankiki/611673/ Why, young hippie, do you straighten your hair?Your makeup really clashes with your Seattle style flair.Why, young hippie, do you assume people careabout the contradictory isms that all you hippie-types share.Why, young hippie, do you shop at Hollister,doesn't that clash with your anti-consumer.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/freshmankiki/611672/ You don't have to close your eyes for inspirationJust simply take your glasses off.The world becomes blurry in a beautiful way,softer, more gentle, up to your imagination.You can walk through a crowd of faceless people,or look at the sky through prickly evergreens.You can stare into paintings, .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/freshmankiki/611671/ I just can't get any good sleep :( http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/freshmankiki/611670/ Click. Clack. An insomniac.Close my eyes. Memorize.Look up a word. Such a nerd.Midnight lunch. Cap'n Crunch.Tap my pen. Scribble again.No more delay. Peruse a play.Final edit. Glad I read it.Pack and prepare. Say a quick prayer.Finally lean back. Hit the sack.Night of a studious insomniac. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/freshmankiki/611669/ What happens to a starwhen it fades into the night?Does it weep unseen tears?Does it fight for its old light?Does it bow out gracefully,humbly, willingly?Yesterday a great cynosure,today less than mediocre.But who cares about a burnt-out star?It had its chance in the spotlight,limelight,burned brigh.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/freshmankiki/611668/ I'm glad that it's rainingso nobody sees my tears.I cry in the shower--that way no one hears.But maybe I'm cryingbecause I wish they could seemy heart at it's weakest,the other side of me. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/freshmankiki/611665/