http://slow.writerscafe.org/zeitnot The original writings of author Zugzwang en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775995706 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 The cornflower-blue morningPromised joy and light, But the doom-grey clouds settled and Subdued the day.Rain has a quiet power.Like death, it brooks noArgument; bids us kneel down And embrace silence. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/zeitnot/1979523/ Any number of styles existfor holding one's pen -The Asian is different to the European;the lower two fingers bunchedinto a truncated fist,planted firm on the page:a stable base for theprecisionnecessary for writing characters-Chinese, Kanji, Hangul.The pen held almost vertical, stabbing words into .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/zeitnot/1954925/ On the ocean of consciousness, sheer white cliffspronounce the presenceof the parts of ourselvesthat we choose to see.But our icebergdoes not bob on the waves, but rather, rides through them, ballasted as it is bya looming gargantuan counterweighthulking massively inthe sullen depths.Our bright litt.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/zeitnot/1941737/ I have placed enchanted lockson the peaks and valleys of my mind -they are a mystery to me,as captivating and enigmatic as any lost continent.I fear that death will overtake mebefore I've had a chance to scale the heights, and plumb the depths of these uncharted reaches.But the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/zeitnot/1938979/ The winter crows are back,cawing about God knows what;robbing nests,spearing baby birds,and sundry other atrocities. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/zeitnot/1936386/ This morning,A kookaburra callSplit the silence Just as I was offering incenseIn the predawn gloom.I can hear it's echoEven now. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/zeitnot/1936232/ Practitionersof the way dance unmoving;a flute with no holes.Crippled Cold Mountaindidn't care a fig for rules;He spoke with the clouds.A stick of incense, sandalwood, burns to the end.Sitting quietlyThe afternoon warmthgave way to evening stillness.Diamonds in the sky. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/zeitnot/1935507/ A kite without a string.North wind blows,Kite goes south.South wind blows,Kite goes north.Fraught,Intemperate,Wanting onlyTo soar. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/zeitnot/1928074/ On a day like this,The languid breezeBarely stirs the leaves.The sun hides low, Sinking behind a cloudbank;The birds come home to roost, Softly murmuring, murmuring;As the sky slowly slips away,Making room for the universe. 17 April, 2016 http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/zeitnot/1760526/ This eveningthe sky is violet.An insect chorus singsto summer’s heat,ebbing now, asthe drowsy sun’s eyedrops past the horizonand the fruit batscome home to squabble and feedin the giant fig treeon the gently lappingriverbank. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/zeitnot/1719778/ First stepsare tentative, and the little onefalls often.Butnascent gritis not to be underestimated. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/zeitnot/1685306/ An homage to Emily Dickinson. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/zeitnot/1656521/ A tribute to Sylvia Plath. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/zeitnot/1649419/ Inspired by a trail run. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/zeitnot/1647929/ It's about long distance running! http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/zeitnot/1644905/ I saw a Sulphur-CrestedCockatooOn the trail today.Just hanging out, likesome gutter punkwith a bright yellow Mohawk.When I got close, itflapped and launched, a confusion of wings and feathers, up, over the trail, anddivedDown into the gully:a flatten.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/zeitnot/1644887/ this day is dyingI wonder where it will gowhen it departs http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/zeitnot/1643448/ warm afternoon lightswaying trees perch overthe sighing blue sea http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/zeitnot/1643447/ dark clouds threateningstormy weather, but above:the sun shines always http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/zeitnot/1643446/ This chill windIs blowing the sun out!And when it’s gone-The deep lustrous night. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/zeitnot/1643350/ The frog’s call, Grasshopper’s whir, And the ‘Chi chi chi!’Of the gecko Weave a tapestryOf soundThat permeatesThe still evening air. In the silent voice Of the seasonsA promise is uttered:“Summer is comin.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/zeitnot/1643349/ All along the riverbank, The thin sun fallsAnd lands without impact. It’s so cold!And the way is so far. Will Summer never come? Feet pound And lungs bellowTogetherIn that familiar rhythm. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/zeitnot/1643348/ Do clouds look downidly at the earthand wonderat the succession of formsendlessly drifting past? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/zeitnot/1643344/