http://slow.writerscafe.org/Diomedes The original writings of author J.M. Walsh en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776334288 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Tell me where it begins, Because we know how this ends, Did it start by the eyes - Or with the ears, when words Flew on silver wings? Or was it before us, long ago In the days before we were here, Before we had bodies and souls And we could think - Tell me then what were.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Diomedes/978240/ Is this the end of my heart’s toil?An unreturnedreply,An unrequitedlove.How can I abandon this road?Though a famine road it may be,A path I can hardly understand,As with God,As with you.What faith have I in you, and why?The years have aged my memorie.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Diomedes/857703/ Yesterday I watched the trees sway in the breeze,I would not be able to bend them with my hands,And I saw that unseen forces bend us worst,It is those that torment and cripple us,And I am a poor man, poor in thought and mind,And in spirit too where poverty clings closest,,So why would I throw heavy .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Diomedes/812765/ I watch the swallows circle McEwan's Hall,And wonder who could tame these wild birds,Which come and go to their hearts' desire,And press on me covetous thoughts:'Oh, if I could keep one in a little cage,And nurse its every want and need,My heart would share its freedom.'But what once was free is alw.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Diomedes/804868/ Pagetwo-hundred-and-ninety-four: Willis declares his love for Eliza, And she collapses into his arms. Their names mean nought to me,Having not read the restOf the book you read last summer             &.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Diomedes/729007/ True tears do taste like salt water, When broken hearts breed bitter fluids, And that is how the Aegean rose, And why we lost our heroes. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Diomedes/694758/ I loved you, so I built these seven pillars of wisdom,                                    andwrote your name within its p.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Diomedes/694233/ Sometimes I say your name into the wind, Or write it on my cigarette papers, And watch it being carried away On whispy currents of smoke and air, Travelling into the ethereal, Crossing the twelve weary miles between us, But never the two long years. I've been with youb but its beena  di.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Diomedes/675506/ More of an attemot at technique than anything else http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Diomedes/672056/ Where is Plato now? When poetry failsTo keep the real world at bay,Bryon, Donne, Spencer - all dead men,And the formless cross of life weighsHeavy on our backs, an unwieldy Burden to the flux of literature, Which Tries  to paint a lasting picture,Of man lost in the depths of timeAnd in the unca.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Diomedes/666415/ The bell rungas Stephen opened the door into Schöll’sbookshop. The owner, Mr. Schöllgreeted Stephen by name and Stephen returned the gesture with a nod. As perusual the store owner was dressed smartly much akin to his shop. Stephen hadheard Patrick say that he would.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Diomedes/665877/ How can I compare myself to you,When you are superior than I,You turn and twist your words upon the page,Making shapes and pictures,Which form so naturally in your hands,About your wasted love and guiltless passions,In a world which does not care;Yet I do, and how I love you,Love you for your words .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Diomedes/665865/ Snow is sailing through the air,Bowing branches, paving pavements,It peppers passers by, the cold cutting colder,Their collars buttoned up, hands in pockets,As they make paths through the white blanket,Swiftly covered up in layers of unyielding snow.They won't forget this path till the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Diomedes/665857/ I know you lay there sleeping gently,Moonlight resting on your weary head,As life gives you her last sweet kisses,Which you’ve held so dear in your romance;Sorry to leave who you’ve loved so much,And with whom you’ve touched all of us,Graced with che.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Diomedes/665663/ There is no other road for you to take,It has ended with nothing left to follow.You shall not grow old nor see again, Or feel another pressing upon your hand. Sweet memories will blossom in other minds,But yours have been left upon the road.I worry at how I a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Diomedes/665635/ The spring of 1912 marked the end ofStephen Comerford’s third year in the Royal College of Surgeons. Aged twenty-onehe held himself in reserve, a quiet man who absorbed himself in his studies andnewspapers. He spent his evenings reviewing the day’s lecture notes and hismo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Diomedes/665619/ For Stephen Comerford it becomes difficult not to lose his personal life in the political and social changes in the world. Even harder is crossing the divide between the mental and physical world. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Diomedes/665617/ I'm always taken aback by the need for a description on a poem. The reader should get what they can out of the poem. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Diomedes/664947/