http://slow.writerscafe.org/biltea The original writings of author William Teague en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776050661 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 I keep my heart locked up in shadows in hopes of one day releasing herA great builder of cinderblock walls I protect her, I prevent her from escaping Sometimes when it's damp she tries to seep outEvery place I've been has its own character, still when I return it seems changedPlaces .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/biltea/1361137/ She stirred within him a place that was dormant a place he thought was buried forever. Feelings of spring melted his frozen heart. With such grace and finesse she lit the light, his light. Leaving him open and vulnerable and now he had something to fear, something to lose. He had denied those fe.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/biltea/1341292/ What were those magical words she uttered?She touch so many.Her light filled their shadows.everyone stopped what they were doing.A sense of love came over us all.Please! Tell us what she said?Her eyes blessed us with joy.Her garment flowed with serenity.Her lips smiled surrend.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/biltea/1341280/ All the benefits of a leaf that yields its morning tears dropping them into a pool of ducks floating past a large gander while several morning-doves splash in the corner underneath a fell tree then followed by a moment of silence all chaos breaks out as the boots that carry a man with a gun approach.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/biltea/1341275/ There are boats carved out of ancient timber that circle my head. I see the men, women and children landing on the shore of the river Styx. Not comprehending me they go about their business pulling in the nets, full and flapping. They build their fires and eat their catch as they rest their weathere.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/biltea/1341273/ She stirred within him a place that was dormant a place he thought was buried forever. Feelings of spring melted his frozen heart. With such grace and finesse she lit the light, his light. Leaving him open and vulnerable and now he had something to fear, something to lose. He had denied those fe.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/biltea/1331195/ He was inspired to write again, to portray the windy hills sprinkled with cypress and wild juniper and rows of ram shackled shanties that terraced, rising and falling through the corridors, pretending to be villas. He came upon a brook, he sat and meditated. The rocks peeked out above the rippl.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/biltea/1327780/ What are those memories that come to me like bits & pieces of broken glass?Distant friends who are gone now remain immortal like initials carved into a tree.And the leaves follow teardrops as they fall.Time never heals wounds it forgets them.Forgets them when there are no longe.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/biltea/1259136/ He plucked his eye out to allow histhoughts to flow out and onto the page. The pain allowed him intensefocus. Of course he could write. This was a trait, being of Celticblood. Voices spoke to him like a device and he recorded them. Heconsidered himself likened to a tailor or cobbler. No di.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/biltea/1256732/ A little something a may expand on. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/biltea/1123473/ And we hold our breath Down deep we go Staring into one another’s eyes Deeper still We exhale and fall To the bottom Holding on Into the abyss William Teague © 2013 http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/biltea/1118640/ a fictional story of mine: where the MC has just received bad news. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/biltea/1117470/  subwayscreeches; a dead stop.massespour up and out toward smoked pretzel’d chestnuts; chasingblack soak’d, slimy -citystreetsuponwhich lay, stenchrid'n,soil’d canvass pants homeless,shrouded in drench’d cardboard boxnoddingheads of disapp.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/biltea/1114367/ Inspired in part by, Gustav Klimt's The Kiss http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/biltea/1114319/ Inspired by memories of my youth. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/biltea/1114304/ After a night of poetry, burlesque performance art at my neighborhood cafe on Staten Island. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/biltea/1113421/ looking out her window she rises; young and bright as a new day. her image inspires to overwhelm reality. i, a dusty old relic, have but one thing to offer -character.  i surely have that. peering out to the vastness - seeing everything, shewatches.t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/biltea/1048629/ bells on the door ring. she lets me in early, off the cold street.pulling me in, she twists the lock back in place.i blow into my cupped hands.speaking in imported tongue, she takes my wrists, burying my hands underneath her armpits. Satisfied, she return.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/biltea/1048625/ Surrender is sweetRevenge is eating fireForgiveness is the most nutritious banquetResentment is drinking poison in order to put out the fireCompassion is loving yourself enough to feed others loveHonesty is the courage to see and cut through the denial of insanity,to ea.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/biltea/1044885/ a naive pilgrimI am new to this place.  here, set in an age, not of my timea world foreign to meand I to it. out of place to wanderamong the ashes beneath stone. I, the wandering jewwith no place of home; of mind, of heart.he.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/biltea/1030486/ Very short story. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/biltea/1030476/ the blue moon watched as your artwork fell in love with me.i fell for your bottom lip,then into your eyes. enchantress casting spells to encourage my abandonment of my lover making her negotiable now. even kings discard harams, and stumble off throne.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/biltea/1030473/ http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/144607?ref=williamteague http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/biltea/950006/ For Lei http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/biltea/947106/ Work in progress. Inspired by a place called Snug Harbor, Staten Island, where old sailors went to retire and spend the winter of their lives. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/biltea/893623/ My attempt at Haiku http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/biltea/863841/ cause for alarm through the subtle trees of my empty echoes;calling forth the abandoned turpitude within the confines ofembroidered existence, only to find a way back into the fold. how then can this truth be forged through the steel, sparksand embers of empathy that cast shadows.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/biltea/847566/ Handheld face Sipping lips - drinking mouths Eyes fall, now see.  William Teague, (c) 2011 http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/biltea/847531/ By William Teague (c) 2011 http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/biltea/847248/ By William Teague, © 10/31/2011 http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/biltea/847247/ My dad died in1998. This is one of those difficult moments in time when all one has to hold onto is the (Zen) moment in time; a concentrated attention of love and compassion. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/biltea/627096/ An excerpt from a novel in progress. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/biltea/626441/ thank you for your token of kindness,which fill my pockets with gratitude, to savor tender naïve kiss;to break my cruel and shameful attitude.  forever feeling joy you gave, along this mournful road i’ve made,for travelers we; share more or less,only r.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/biltea/626168/ firelight once so bright,alas but for a whilelike memories of your sight,use to make me smile halfhearted love shone from me,ne’er to bid deserve,to which my prideful dignity,is held within preserve you tried your best with such finesse,giv.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/biltea/625264/ chins and flared nostrils,looking down upon little ones;dictating rules and regulations.woe to them,to kill mystery and wonder,despite their distant dreams of blunder;child becomes man,ne’er regain youth again. enter the alabaster woman,nearly a child herself;leaving young men in ruin,and.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/biltea/625096/ Do you have any fresh bread, he saidShe replied with a smile, it may take a while, Have some tea and talk to me, and soon we’ll be off to bedI awoke to her singing as she washed the dishes, Tales of her memories, longings, and wishesOnce I was young and beautiful, she sang, now I am .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/biltea/625093/ bed o’ nailspast daisy chain gatherings,spontaneous combustible emotions,watching feelings of dread,basking in the sunlight,through unclean windows. poor pathetic soldier of life,war wounds from day’s gone by,untitled biographyreturns to mind,again and again;in order to lighten the .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/biltea/624748/ At first sight your eyes awakened me.After a moment, a million years passed,time stood still to witness joy your smile gave.Oh what fear love understands,humble me once again I pray. Copyright 2004,  William Teague http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/biltea/624742/  what an ugly vilething a new book seems to bewith crisp virginpages untouched by human handsoh how i hate her so,that antiseptic unripened unread offspring of a treeas she lays there withher friendsand associates onclean shelves, with clean smells,a new book s.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/biltea/624737/ Crossing fences, saluting foes;Hands spoil the charred embers across the waves of echoes.The will of the stone continues,It remembers;To starve the silent screams,It remembers;Streaming rays of sunlight following the trails,Bringing gifts to the corners with great delight,Compromising nothing!Veil o.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/biltea/624726/