http://slow.writerscafe.org/Linnypeder2 The original writings of author Lindsay Elizabeth en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776343998 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 I remember the first time I stepped out of a movie theatreand the sun assaulted my eyes. I could not move, nor would I have chosen to do so until my pupils had adjusted and contracted to the light my body could accept.It’s not my fault. It’s not my responsibility.It’s not me. It&rs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Linnypeder2/2039280/ There's catharsis in the ocean's waves:a sort of cleansing crash-as tides move in and billows curvemy  backThe sunshine need not warm my mind--'tis better in the frostwhen icy water melts my heart and stirs up what was lostThere's pain, there's joy, there's sufferingthe flotsam The ti.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Linnypeder2/1976209/ Age is like the moment you realized that your hands look oldbut still feel as if they had a lifetime of words left to writeIt steam presses your collars and wrinkles your forehead and the corner of your eyesIt folds down the corners of your bedsheetsand tucks them in tightlyand all you want to .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Linnypeder2/1975529/ I know the heartbeat of the unbloomed rose: the thump thump thumping of color and life against petaled walls I know what it's like to live, alive and vibrantly: to have consciousness pouring through this vessel and be reborn within a day, within a moment's time I know the symphony t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Linnypeder2/1905160/ and when you have your ducks in a rowand your tie set just rightand your shirt unwrinkled for the first time in your lifeand when you leave for work five minutes early instead of five minutes lateand you remember your please's and thank you's and to always greet your boss with a smileand when y.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Linnypeder2/1869409/ Of all the questions that have been askedthere is no inquiry that can surpass the ancient mystery kept hidden, kept lockedthat leaves us imploring:what's in the box??But on this Christmas...or Christmas Eve Eveit is you alone who's been given the key (scissors) to unlock the treasures hidd.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Linnypeder2/1865523/ When I try to think of the reason why I like youI can't because my head starts to feel dizzy like the first time you kissed me and the world turned itself over and emptied my pockets onto the ground taking everything I thought I knew out,replacing it with everything I did not kno.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Linnypeder2/1839719/ A child, I watched the delft pottery plates crash to the floor.Unblinking I stoodAnd then blinking, wincing eyes shutso that I did not have to number the sharp-edged bits that cracked and burst into a million particles of dust. I learned that I must always walk cautiously cross the screami.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Linnypeder2/1776783/ I’m tangled in your love, dear,And I'm trying to hold on,But I'm strangled by the vineThat is pulling me along.  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Linnypeder2/1597238/ Before you goBefore you leaveBefore you say goodbyeBefore you walk away from meBefore you make me cry,Before you say those awful wordsBefore you start to lieBefore you put your hand to mineBefore you look me in the eyes,Before you think about the startBefore you think about the endBefore you start t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Linnypeder2/1597234/ Tonight I find myself alone:notebook open, the smell of citronella burning, and a choir of cicadas chirping like they always do in August. Maybe it’s the solitude of a midsummer night dreamer but the only thing I want to dois pen to words all the sharp turnsthat life has thrown at me.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Linnypeder2/1596688/ There goes Peter Cotton Tail running from his biggest fearsIt all happened as in the sticky summer heatwhen the clouds cannot contain their precipitation forone moment moreand the rain explodes from the sky like bombs.The only difference was that I could not predict this thunderstorm. 52 minute.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Linnypeder2/1548773/ I am a doubting Thomas. Look at my heart. See the holes, the missing pieces?They exist because I cannot believe in the reason for the holes in your hands. If only your love were as real to me as these wounds that I can feel with my fin.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Linnypeder2/1484166/ I stood in wonder because the white lily pads looked likeover-sized stars floating in the ocean, as ifthe sky and the water had becomethe same in that moment, that very moment, I had everything I ever needed and all thebeauty I ever wanted in my tangible view of.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Linnypeder2/1473929/ Rain wash meSpirit wash meI am sticky and filthy I am heavy-ladenand the dirt drags on the white carpet of my house. Rain wash meSpirit wash melet the droplets bind to my skin like a barrierlet them roll down my eyelids down my lip.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Linnypeder2/1452707/ You are a window, a white windowpanewithout any curtains. You are open and honest:the breeze flows freely andYou do not fear the scrutiny of morning dawn or midday sun.  You are a windowand I see you and I see into you.I see your red .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Linnypeder2/1452705/ When I was five my teacher explained to me one of nature’s most wondrous secrets: two snowflakes can never be the same.  And at age twenty four I find myself in that same awe as I stare at the google search results of microscopic snowflakes. And now I with an almost .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Linnypeder2/1329973/ That night, the slate black sky was sprinkled with starchwhite pins as if God were shouting“LOOK AT ME.”But I was too busy watching fireworks half veiledbehind the shivering branches of some South American treeof which I do not even know the name. .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Linnypeder2/1281422/ A poem based on Maya Angelou’s Poem “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings" http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Linnypeder2/1040949/ My boy he goes through stages-         one up Steps:                one up again         two downand back to me he makes them his obsessions, his night and dayhis every tho.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Linnypeder2/1031701/ Looking back through old poetry journals from middle school and I came across the first poem I ever wrote. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Linnypeder2/1031687/ A poem I wrote back in high school. Not the best, I can’t really see any specific style or technique I tried to follow but it’s genuine and written to my best friends :) http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Linnypeder2/1031680/ I’m sure there is some sort of solution.A secret only spoken to teenage boys--bennies whose suburban sidewalks are not conducive to surfing and whose “it’s-so-hot-you-could-fry-an-egg-on-it” pavements prove impractical for skateboarding in mid-August weather.But I, &nbsp.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Linnypeder2/1030644/ Today, I had to destroy you;Today, I ripped you to shreds.Piece by piece, line by line, my penciled confessioncascaded from fingertips and onto the floor like dirty water from a mop bucket.  You just aren’t good for me.   And I need to confess: &nbs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Linnypeder2/810731/ You paint by colormatching hues and neatly tracing outlines of a picture that you dreamt up when you were sixteen andheld a fine-tipped brush.Which you still have today. You paint by color-while I’m still trying to connect the dots between loving Godand lovin.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Linnypeder2/801668/ Groggyeyed with an early-morning temper, I trudged down the stairs,ploddedpast the kitchen andfound my way into the dining room whereI took a seat at a cold, hard-backed chair.  Iwanted nothing to do with the day. Infront of me, you placed a clea.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Linnypeder2/755766/ The AOL news article reads: "Scientists say that the rate at which plants and animals are disappearing could drastically alter life in the future."This concerns me and I can't ignore it any longer.Think: How many years make up a future? One year? Ten years? Hundreds of years? Hundreds of t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Linnypeder2/728692/ The smell of acetonein a bare-bulb living room. I won’t forget thesenights.  Streaking colors acrossworn-out fingerssmudged from laughter and unsteady hands. Years from now,I’ll look back and wish to returnto our little apartmen.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Linnypeder2/727141/ Created from the writing prompt: How a pair of socks feel when they get separated in the dryer. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Linnypeder2/702568/ you said so many thingsand like a girl i believedmy heart was yours for you to keepforever and alwaysyour words: they clung to mein dropsin showersso sweetso nicei loved youi loved to see you smileto hear you laughand when you looked at mei meltedand when you said those thingsoh, i loved to hea.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Linnypeder2/701347/ Waking up is so hardwhen all that you believed in was a dream.A dream that you thought was so realthat you could touch it and feel it and hear it and hold it.  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Linnypeder2/701344/ A sonnet based on an unfortunately factual experience.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Linnypeder2/701342/ Sometimes I take my introverted-ness to the extreme. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Linnypeder2/685271/ "Come" he said. Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid, and, beginning to sink, cried out, "Lord, save me!" http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Linnypeder2/685236/ Created from the prompt "Sometimes it takes courage to walk away and today she was feeling very courageous." http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Linnypeder2/685230/