http://slow.writerscafe.org/Poeticadia The original writings of author Poeticadia en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775984198 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 As the sunflowerleans toward the evening sunI sleep facing east. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/793255/  They crowd in at sash windowsswelling grand silences,trending semaphore in placeof the ancient grammarof their presence; a gradualformation into forest. Investors stare blankly outthrough a template of panesoverlayed with aims; mouths filtering the tenacious dustthat furs ci.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/793232/  Theneighbours have the sky in their garden;self-seeded,uncultivated.Theirblossom clouding over the hedgesnowsscent on our stony ground. Ourgarden parades its regimentsIfaithfully sowed indoors in Marchtemptedby the luscious wealth ofbean.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/783205/ Abutterfly landswhilstyou are away;apainted lady on the storm porch tileskissingred flowers, out in November. Aspider has strung upourbroken gate,onits threads it hangs over-night tearstotrap the morning’s rarest rainbows. T.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/783200/ To wake uphere is to step insidethe streetview of a shallow dreamwherehouses dress and undress themselveslike façadesin a storyboard street and carssigh past withouta backward glance.Keepwalking, you will reach the churchbuilt elevenhundred and thirty.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/783191/  Miles wide, bank-sidedand ring-fenced, we liveblinkered at the foot of its crater. The gate unmanned, I took my chance;paced up the gravel trackand panned the view east to west - the water as vast as a full answer.Curiosity stilled, as the surf.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/772821/ Taken on a dry daythat creaked with heat -the trees perspiring,leaves loose as skin -the camera lied about the light. It was overcast, it’s true,but not dimmedlike at 2pm that daywhen we stood watchingthe eclipse align above the Earth. .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/760124/ Prose poem, inspired by the "The Catcher in the Rye" for Kerry's Thursday Challenge #1 http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/760015/ Drfiting way off course from challenge #5... but inspired by Lawrence's story 'The White Stocking' http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/753479/ The gardenI foundwhen I nudgedthe door ajartearingagainst the undergrowth,wasn’t whatI expected.Nofountains draped in vines,no flowerborders,no eleganttrees.Each one brutallyfelledat hiscommand;little recompensefor his loss.Re.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/749154/ The Sunflower’s Story“…we’re all beautiful golden sunflowers inside, we’re all blessed by our own seed & golden hairy naked accomplishment”                   &n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/742710/ “Vertigo is something other than fear of falling. It is the voice of the emptiness below us which tempts and lures us, it is the desire to fall…” Milan Kundera (The Unbearable Lightness of Being)    It starts with the eggssinking to the riverbed.Each begins in sedi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/740705/  Unlike her, myhair doesn't torch the drab day.Herstatement is low cut & slender legged;everythingfeminine set alight. I smoulder in airlesscorners indoors,my outer sheen coolingto ashes. Unlike me, shebears her embers against the tempes.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/739548/  Bird in a mirroradmiring my wings. When I wouldn’t singthey plucked me naked. I slipped my skin. Pecked bone-cleanI clatter madly. You can hear me hangingin the garden. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/739538/ a haiku http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/737747/  Howmuch did I write on the far side ofthe swinging gate?Allthe hinges came loose that year. * The gables surveyed the glass-eyed valleybut not a twitchas if nothing watched, or cared to watch. The church went up in flames. Not a .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/736251/  The evening slips from underneath.I’m falling into a late blue skylike I’m sinking inside the fabric of leavingtaking the other way out. And beyond the edge where lucid bluehas thickened to blackand black peeled back to a broad white space,is anything logic.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/736250/  The profile of a foot displeases in age,splayed out of shapein skin, parched and frail. It is an angular creature something likea cow or calf,the heel, its bony buttocks. The toes resemble torsos, each naila scarred face. Veins rise like languid snakes. .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/729118/ This gift, unlike any other,wraps itself around the outside,spreads across the paperundisguised,naked with love. Though slight in appearance,its message is immense;overwhelmingas its wings unfoldand it flies from my armslike a swan ascendingor butterflies (sometim.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/727018/  The Jacquard roses bloom stiff and white,embossed, below smooth palmsthat flatten folds in pillow slips;halved then halved-again. Empty. Slim. Pressed cotton settles square and deepin the linen drawer beneath the bed; if thisis the last task, I have done well. .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/725483/  On the estuary, at evening,a god is rubbing his hand acrossthe black rocks, tousled with seaweed,pilling a flock of bellieswith shell-sharp wings and slender necks. They wheel overheadsketching figures in flight;silhouettes hooked on the sky.On the shore below you are .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/725421/  So much waste. A dreamsquandered on feasting; othershungry, lie awake. So much wasted; nightspent fighting battles the deadhave already lost. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/724294/ In memory of C.R. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/723129/   The haze hung down to the flats,the swallows and dippers unseenin oaks and reeds, and the batswrapped tight, slept in the eaves. Rain sprayed us shiny and soddenuntil we came to the hide.We panned across untroddenmarshland springing with life: A gasp of .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/723125/ In the walled gardenMagnolia petals fallinto the blue sky. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/718632/ Whilst the easy pathpassed houses numbered evenlyon curtain-veiled streets,I was running at oddsdown terraceswhose open doors invited me into dark papered halls;bent heads and solemn whispersfolding me into stillnesslike an old friend in times of grief. I’d follow .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/715053/  An image is easily undone;a face remade by a photo,a book fashioned by a film. A revisit displacesthe first impressions;distorting a distant pattern. Second love unpicks the scars of the firstto invite itself in, knits adhesionsinto something unusably.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/714988/  I walk the garden in my sleeprun my finger expectantly aroundthe smooth lining of a limpet shelluntil it sings across the pond,I can feel the feathery moss squashbeneath my bare feet. The scentof scattered lavenderopens the night like a drawer. I sit beside a foil stre.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/713607/ It wasn’tfor lack of dreamingor concentrationbut theland itselfswallowedinspiration,absorbedthe sun’s energyleaving thelandscapeblossom-scented-empty;one elbowpropped idly on springand a headfull of everyday routine. The road.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/713602/  The school dayhas given back the adult hours;one plate laid out at lunch,explicit lyrics and chocolate biscuits -even daily news gets throughas the world unwinds. Obsessions redefinedfrom toilet habits and toe nailsto tying up a millionloose ends; left hangingf.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/703161/ I know I cannot resistreading what I am sorting out;rifling through a scruffy boxof letters spread across the floor -all those shades of decaying papercounting out love and loss. It is much the same with poemshole-punched into folders, breedingbrown spots on off-white skin... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/703154/ Stillness is earth’sonly sympathybeneath asky that utters nothing but blue. Too soon,this mutation into summer,whentwisted lilac’s breaking into bud;  the heatleaves the day and yet the leavesstillhaven’t come &#201326604.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/701452/ Last night the moonpassed close to earthbearing her porcelain mask. Out under the nightfireworks hammeredour hearts to the skyin a burst of sparkslike stars;brief semaphores flagging our salutationsfar acrosstwo continents;they shower the earthlike shatt.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/700925/  Theconjuror rattles his hand,sells youtwo coinsfor theprice of three;you applaudthe deal that leaves youstuck onwonderbarely sureof what you holdclenched withinyourtrembling fist. He dealsanother hand,a deck ofcardsfan.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/698477/ Wind chimes tamper with the deadness of night;I sleep with yachts, their rigging strikesthe upright poles, unpicking a riddle. A neighbouring dog barks at foxes,two am, a vixen yowls;the street is screaming out for peace. An engine ticking over warmsits vacant .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/698006/  We wake in the morninginelegantly curledon sagging sofas,in nests of coats. We catch a glimpse of ourselvesquivering on the edgeof the empty dance floor,expectingsomething more. Then we rise like ghostsleaving our gravesand shuffle homein our tight unshe.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/697473/ He sweeps and sweepsand sweepsbut pigeon feathersare lighter than air. His broom thrashing and beatingalmost clearsa straight paththrough the downto the fountain. Sir Henry sneezes;white laughterspreads its wingsthen settles, homing in. At precisely.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/695083/  The first-light casts its netto catch the clutter night has left hanging,snagged in vision; this morning, a childwho was never bornlattice-tangled,dangledlike a spider from its thread. I have to keep these things.My chest of secretsspills the beans from .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/692279/  We awokestaring up into the eye of morning,over-exposed,parched and achingfrom unslept nights. Two stonesthat struck togetherigniting nothing,fighting what it was that nagged defeat: the gapwhere love should have been. We came adrifton a valed.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/691909/ Always, the Spring unsettles the bulbsto slice their finger-leavesup through grit and trodden verges. The grass blades riselike armies; cut and cut and cutand more coming. Always this awakening,this sprouting-up around mewhilst I sink -each strobe of sun is n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/691117/ Another attempt at a haiku for the Nature Connections Contest http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/689954/ An attempt at a haiku for the Nature Connection Contest http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/689022/ Heading out across the upturned palm,its fingers curled, cupping the Wye ValleyI fought against the wind's winter petulance,guilt slapping my ears and wrenching my hair:Your torment, pared and divided between us had stuck like an accusation, pulling me down. I walked towards w.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/687615/ City Nights We seep into the citythrough back-ways and alleys flooding with shadows.We spring like cats onto walls, balancelike rats on pipes. The streets speak to our feetin unlit corners, underbridges, stealingthrough tunnels; headlightsclose in at our ed.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/686384/   I have scrutinised your words,my tongue has them tamed but my headis still reeling - my skin soaked palefrom the light of the screen. The draught from the fan is unsettlingthe dust, whipping it up.I can see it completely; your meaningrubbed up as I read.&nbs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/684296/ I’m a mother trollhand-fistedly tending my troll kids. Online, I’m a mad, badhousewife, boredand idle - predictably insecure,infestedwith sentimental notions - clubbing poems;tethering wordsbefore the kill. It’s a wonderthese .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/683320/ For the listener, who listens in the snow, And, nothing himself, beholds Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.                             &n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/681263/  Buildings here are made of staticrubbed together weightlesslyfrom brief exchanges -the broad white spacein which we speak carries more than signs and silence;can cause a heart to lurchor sink. The sky is clear -meanings arc the sweep of continents - what is .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/680658/  This morning, the chainsawgrinding through flesh of birch,felling limbs. Jammed inside the hopper,they wince into chippingsand scatter. And I am desperate -I left my heart up thereto meet the morning. The clouds blink, as sapbleeds across the tail gat.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/680241/ You wriggle to rest, facewrung dry, paperweight headindenting the bed of my thighs,arms flopped out in semaphore. The evening’s graphite edgeetches your eyelids softly closed as you drift into newborn sleep,lips sipping the tepid air. Each breath is a falling fe.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Poeticadia/678793/