http://slow.writerscafe.org/weeksj812 The original writings of author Jesse W. en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776060971 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Samantha Haine journeys into the wilds of Northern Maine to take down a renegade Lord on the orders of The Black Queen http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1827135/ They call me such namesSlut, w***e, prostitute galoreAnd I say 'F**k them'My body is mineI will love whom I will loveAnd I will love me http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1773877/ It takes boldness to find romance http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1773826/ Grow into beingBecome who you want to beCreate your best selfYou should only askOne great important questionWho should I become? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1744103/ Sailing on the windFloating through the dawn intoMysteries unknownNary a cloud nor strifeCast a shadow of a doubtOur hearts ever unbound Drifting through the skyReflected in clearest blueCrest the waves with skill http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1744099/ I could be pretty in dim candlelightWhen the moon is high and the sun is downBeauty enhanced by radiant starlightMade up and ready for a night on the townBut darkness digs deep underneath my eyesMultiple candles enhance the blank pagePen in hand, ready for the next surpriseImagination takes the cent.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1741965/ I kiss and denyFor only I can supplyPleasure, make you cry http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1739862/ Touch flesh against fleshA light hand caressing skinCircles make you moan http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1739861/ I was made for youA master stroke of deft handA lover in ink http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1739855/ I stand inside this broken home of mineSo lost in memory I swear I hearThe sound of laughter for which I still pineDrifting through the dark, my love drawing nearI see the broken glass, the shattered platesDamaged wares of both mundane and great artThese are the relics of a mad disgraceYour last nig.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1739852/ Deep green, dark purpleMixed with fluttering yellowDefine the vineyardThe butterflies landRide the vines as though they wereBirds on power linesWatching as callous, course Rough fingers pluck fresh ripe grapes Ready for their wine http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1739846/ I'd curl up in bed Feel a chill along my cheek And nuzzle my teddy I'd curl up in bed Feel a chill along my cheek And nuzzle my teddy Now teddy is hisI know he will do the sameGive my son sweet dreams http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1739843/ Another story of Samantha Haine. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1733168/ Love lost at the fair http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1732964/ A flowing red dressBright, reflected in candlesRuby red aflameA smile, secret, deepBeckoning like a wild fireAn alluring flowerA light shining redIn the twinkling night, stands outBrighter than the rest http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1732498/ The perfect morning http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1731532/ Lost in the dark. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1730386/ Richard leaned back in their booth, enjoying the feeling of warm food in his stomach after a long day of traveling. It was relaxing, and he enjoyed Juanita's company. As they drifted through the air, heading for their final destination, he couldn't help but be happy. He was looking forward to some s.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1729480/ The beginning of a story I've been working on for a while. Critiques welcome :) http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1727303/ Tribute to Arya Stark http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1725843/ The great Crowson's Forge, a statue of a crow carved in a hole alongside the side of a mountain; its wings were spread, as if the crow was perched on her nest preparing to take flight. Fitting, as it was here at Crowson's Forge that Richard Aberdeen would make his ascent to the aerland named 'Womyn .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1725800/ Taps http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1725331/ A poem about suicide http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1724929/ Tribute to Doctor Who http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1724927/ I was not but a daughter of ErinAn Irish girl, lowborn and unschooledLooked down upon by all those who ruledBoston, a city with morals barrenI started out in the cold factoriesAnd it was there along the docks I sawMarching off the streets as the black crow cawedCounting their coins, enjoying their v.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1724924/ Short story involving a character I'm developing: Báirbre Coen http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1724018/ A poem about loss http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1721573/ Ebony aroseAs the sun crossed the mountainsSlid out of their bedShe showered and dressedDid her hair and her make upToday was the dayHer dress was perfectShe was ready for the mornThough she felt unsureThe ring in her purseWas constantly on her mindButterflies aboundBut she rememberedThe day when he.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1721572/ A tribute to Harry Potter http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1721569/ Short story featuring a character I'm developing. Reviews are very welcome. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1720022/ I never set out to be an outlawTo ride in black clothe in the dead of nightThe Reaper chased me away from the lightTill I was swept up by the Crow's clawIn the way-back-when, my name was LenoreWife and mother had been my vocationUntil a letter gained my attentionI found it drifting along the shoreAt.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1719560/ Twinkles in the darkFairies dancing in the nightSmall lights in the blackStars shine their light downOn large fields and blue oceansAnd all treasured landsTiny blips of dustHanging in twilight and darkSuspended aboveEchoes in midnightHeavenly lights long since passedIn star dust and flameRemembered .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1719557/ O my dear sweet RoseI hear the wind call your nameAnd feel you insideOccupy my soulShine a light in the darknessAnd I love you soI long to hold youFeel you close to my bodyAnd know you are mineYou whisper my nameIn a voice sweet and tenderAnd I know I'm yoursAnd when we make loveWhether it's gentle .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1711126/ When they reach out, you go to them. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1707481/ A man loses his way http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1706377/ The tale of a serial killer http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1705708/ Character analysis and plot outlines http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1705081/ Hatred leads us to evil. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1704164/ Love through the seasons. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1702500/ A parable of service http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1702228/ He had two great passions in life: his family and his music.He'd been raised in Georgia, lived out his earliest days in constant fear from the Union. He'd witnessed the destruction of Sherman's march, lived through the riots until his mother could get him out of Atlanta. Much of those early years ha.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1701695/ In 1891, John Shields is a successful musician who routinely sells out concert halls across the country. While returning from a Christmas performance, John meets an evil that threatens his family. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1701681/ Never forget the journey http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1701551/ What it can mean to be the one. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1701544/ Appreciate life's joy http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1698907/ Haiku about love http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1698742/ A short haiku I wrote for someone :) http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1698665/ The Last HouseThe first snow in winter time,Lovely when sprinkling over pine,Floats gracefully on the wind;For me, it can only offend.The first house refuses to yield,Its foundations like roots in the field.I pray it should never fall,That none hear sorrow's tragic call.The snow gathers up.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/weeksj812/1698661/