http://slow.writerscafe.org/StageFour The original writings of author Mr. Stage Four en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776050706 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 "Blessings to you for your prayers."So thinks the sailor as he travels.He thinks of his family, his friends.He knows he loves them all.The sea today is rough.It shakes his ship likethe rumbling of lavafiltering fiercelyfrom a volcanoe.The sailor thinkshe is not in fear.He knows this isonly a coverin.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StageFour/1647056/ Eyes open and close. Lean back, let what happens happen.Words are sometimes like abortions.Forced out before their time.Screaming lips, hasty tongues.Body tired. Uncomfortable.Does it still belong to me?Do secret vowels leak outfrom weary lips? Am I touchingthe right sort of optimism?I want to .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StageFour/1646366/ The hardest part is the night.Movie on, volume low, as I try to sleep.Trying is not doing. Pretend the city traffic soundsare sounds of other peopletrying to sleep. Each, inour own way, as hopelessas the other. They arewondering where theother cars are going,and so am I.Where do we go? Where,if.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StageFour/1646237/ Always the morning comes,      in one manner or another.Still, thank God for every morning.If pain interrupts the ritual      of toast and coffee,still there is food and shelter.It is so quiet here, in the new day    &nb.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StageFour/1646046/ I listened to my favourite Beatles album.Closed my eyes as the harmonies glistened           in my ears.Remembered when I bought the album, the LP.      Sign of my old age.I miss those days. I miss not being tired, .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StageFour/1646024/ I'm not ready to say goodbye.Not to anyone.I want to endure, survive, overcome.I want to watch my grandchildrengrow up, become men. I want towatch my daughters as they stream through their lives.In the silence of the thunderstorm,there is a lesson to be learned.I find the words to write. I find.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StageFour/1645997/ I wonder if the dead peoplestill speak to those they loved?Perhaps the living can not hear them?Or might notrealize that their loved onescontinue to talk to them?I wonder if, when I too am dead,will I be able to hug my daughters?Love my Grandsons?Tell them over and overhow very muchthey mean to me.W.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StageFour/1645992/ Today is not a good day, indeed.The uncomfortable aching persists.Today is good for everyone else.I watch them from my balcony.Blowing wind and comfortable sun.God above, what are you plans for me?Will you be taking me? Away fromhere, away from battlefields and hurting.Are you leaving me here? Teach.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StageFour/1645869/ Days and nights flutter by like danglinghand-cream left on the table. Somethingcalls me. Someone? A voice, internal orexternal I don't know? Mysteries definethe dishes left in the sink. Floors towash, furniture to dust. Dying tothink upon. So much to do! Somuch to do! Is this voice stillactive even .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StageFour/1645519/ I realized that I am alreadyworking on the "Cancer" poems.This fascinates me, in thatclearly my only formof release lies in scribblingwords. Is that what normalpeople do? What is "normal?"I think the concept of definingwhat is or isn't normal isslightly out of place. Fliesmay linger in the window,se.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StageFour/1645510/ I think I hate the intrusion the most.The picking, prodding, sticking thingsinto arms. Ouch! Go away already.Take off your clothes. Put on yourclothes. Stand there. Sit here. Doas we say. We're helping you heal.Privacy is an illusion. It dispersesas quickly as leaves fluttering ina wind-storm. Trans.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StageFour/1645451/ Monday comes. A week begins.Tuesday and the others follow.Doctor's visit. Scared man.Biopsy. It is bad. He resolveshimself to comply. Best toget it over with, do whatmust be done. Sitting inhis favourite chair, instretching wonder hisimagination sputters.There is a dignity inthe living. There isdign.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StageFour/1645441/ Whispers the heart, insisting and so soft,"Life goes on. Death is not dying."Faith, that is the message. Let Hiswill be done, however it works out.Fears are there. Yes, they can consume.They can strangle and inhibit thevery will to walk on. Ease them away,He walks with you, soothing and firm.We rumb.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/StageFour/1645425/