http://slow.writerscafe.org/Thewildviolet The original writings of author Violet Skyy en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776024846 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Coming & going like waves of the oceanTucked in an internal havenDrowning in your starry eyesWoven together like fresh tender tendrilsElated with our bare feet pressed on the naked earth Spirited smiles sets fire to the soulTaking in a breath of life http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thewildviolet/2019441/ An overgrown garden of clouds in which my head is entangledRose-tinted crystal visionMy heart sings of delicate dreams wrapped with laceGold crusted champagne bubbles float overhead Soul dancing to the offbeat of your touchWeaved tenderness & warmth graze upon your lustrous hands Ever .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thewildviolet/1997692/ Salty smilesCrows feetSun bleached, curly, matted hair & glowing bronzed skinCalaised fingers & fishermen tales http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thewildviolet/1965439/ A remembrance of someone I don't knowTumbling waves crashing against the rocks A serene sense engulfing my entirety Vast waves of pain & sorrow washing against me Photographs of this beautiful young being Guitars, curly hair & allPaintings of clear blue eyes semblance the churned.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thewildviolet/1958780/ Lit up faces- the first thing that comes to mind is joy, pure happiness. What else could spending valuable time with family, friends, & people whom you truely treasure bring you other than a face that's lit up? But all that we see & feel is an aching neck, an expresionless face, a head heavy with so.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thewildviolet/1908505/ Silence of the nightThe whispers of the wind begin to scream & howlA faint port & starbord light is all that we areJust a silhouette Born in the midst We struggle to stay afloat http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thewildviolet/1908120/ Withdrawing from her private roomJaws are droppedA few silent whispers pervade through the roomStarlet of the golden evening Dress drawn swiftly behindHer grieving eyes were in immaculate shape with every eyelash in it's placeShe didn't use blush for her cheeks were already flushedFaultlessly h.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thewildviolet/1872798/ I mourn over the loss of a friendDeathA fragile essence in which nobody speaks of All bottled up sealed with hot wax Tossed in the ocean for no one to come across We must not converse too much for we might get caughtPunished in the night Elucidating sorrowful voice mourning of someone .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thewildviolet/1867656/ Journey we mourn Into the light We recall life Or perhaps death Dropped downWe cling to what we detain Not what we seekClouds punish the night of uncertainty Inviolate http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thewildviolet/1857140/ Birds flying to safety from the penetrating rain Falling down to it's death from our skyWe dance in celebration   http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thewildviolet/1857078/ Glitter descending on her crestfallen eyes and flushed cheeks Her hair flying wild from an artificial wind Peeping behind the heavy velvet curtain Glancing at the regular crowd shambling through the doors The lights flickered on The orange hued room is now overflowed An embellished.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thewildviolet/1847310/ Frantic to undressThe stoned stripshowPoise swooning down her thighsLaying in her bed Watching her every moveShe uses her body to get her wayEvery wrinkle tells a taleOf all the men she's scorned Silver shoe lining Honesty Masked beautyGander in the mirror Puckered lipsI lo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thewildviolet/1844283/ "On the market" is what us women say when our life's are unaccompanied by another. The market of what, I ask, the market of human feastery? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thewildviolet/1844134/ Caress my love for poetsFate takes a turnI don't know youPerhaps I haveRunning wildTogether Don't know much about youYou're a poet Mindful loveYou fill my needs But I don't know youOnly of you http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thewildviolet/1841913/ I was walking down the strand the other day in South Redondo,pointing at a little flower in a field of deceased shrubs, this man utters in a soft cool spoken voice and says "The lone flower" as he continued to walk down the long ceaseless strand. Now, I'm not sure if he was talking about the daisy o.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thewildviolet/1841843/ I catch the torrential downpour on my weak hands from what seems to be the sky but is only the tears from my eyes http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thewildviolet/1832575/  my soul it's burning raging with passion touch the flame let it burn you   http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thewildviolet/1832190/