http://slow.writerscafe.org/ethan_owens8 The original writings of author Ethan en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776000682 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 I’m trying to dial any experimentation down a bit, this is a result. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ethan_owens8/2096003/ His jaw dropped to the floor OH M GoD pick it upit might get dirty on our dirty floor HAHAhA 10 second rule you cant tell mewhat to do turn around and go back where you came to my dude do do dude dudewhat’s the difference family feud cornrows rows of corn w.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ethan_owens8/2009768/ My mother is a fish. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ethan_owens8/1956922/ Yellow crashes against thisWindow, shining lightOn my sickly white walls. The weighty anvil descends on meAnd traps my fevered body as Its iron cools and crushes my whimpering bones. This is my afterlife, immortal but immobile.I desire nothing more than .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ethan_owens8/1944511/ Hide-and-go peek. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ethan_owens8/1944309/ This little cabin and your long nose make me feel at homeAmong the crumbling beams, white but blue. On this chair lies the greycoat, forgotten like the redbefore him,Rolled and wrinkled by star-speckled plows, button thieves,grave diggers.&n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ethan_owens8/1942754/ The lost are loved like silver ribboned presents under golden trees. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ethan_owens8/1940999/ Open my box, dearadversary, and assess its contents.Scribble theimperfections in your crude clipboard and vomit them out to all, like a nauseouschoirmaster. You are sick, not I. This room, pure white (save the blue bruise of your presence),is my a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ethan_owens8/1937248/ Darling fair, with bright and golden hair,If you were mortal, I would never know.A perfect, fallen angel you must be. So, you heav’nly cherub; please stay true.For though you often tell me you are mine,I tend to forget it a lot of the time.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ethan_owens8/1935631/ My first haiku... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ethan_owens8/1935317/ A cento poem using Shakespeare (Macbeth and Sonnet XXI) and Keats (Ode to Psyche). http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ethan_owens8/1934950/ A villainous villanelle ;) http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ethan_owens8/1934647/ Would you stay here with me if I did so ask?Am I certain that I wish to hear you say?I, for one, can see the devil, lover-masked,Staring blankly in my eyes this very day. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ethan_owens8/1934628/ A children's poem. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ethan_owens8/1934268/ A poem concerning the deaths of Sylvia Plath and Assia Wevill. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ethan_owens8/1933976/ A poem in the style of the 60's beats. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ethan_owens8/1933267/ I must confess, I had some fun with this one. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ethan_owens8/1932032/   I can feel the forest’s willowy breeze tickle my neck. Her treescreakily yearn for our connection once again, yet this call feels stronger thanany before. I know not what else she could need from me, save the very bonesbeneath my dry, fragile skin. Te.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ethan_owens8/1930122/  Filthy peopleslowly inch across the street like great, fat salmon fighting upstream against the most powerful current. Dark,gothic skyscrapers loom overhead on either side of the slime filled road asthough tall river reeds shot up from underneath smooth, grey .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ethan_owens8/1929991/ Paired with Neutral Milk Hotel's "Communist Daughter". http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ethan_owens8/1929617/ White, wooden, sunlit masts stand great and tall, like wise old sea-men remembering and recounting whaling battles of their exciting youth. Ships rock back and forth, softly calming and creakily singing to their warm cargo as a mother does her newborn child. The bleached seagulls fly, quietly chatte.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ethan_owens8/1929250/ Goodbye and good luck. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ethan_owens8/1927598/ Grant me your wisdom, O river lady.I wish to be a flowing stream.For nothing lives longer than things like she.A dying brook has not been seen.So how does one become like you,A celestial nymph, creature of light?Through darkness and gloom, a being of blue,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ethan_owens8/1927263/ O if I were a romantic wanderer, hailing from distant lands acrossthat isolating lake and telling stories of valor unspoken on this island, howmy life would be complete. But now, leaning against my teardropspeckled rock, watching the birds soar wherever they please .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ethan_owens8/1926867/ Life,I think, is a bit of a paradox.Floatingthrough this desolate void devoid of context and explanation, (some mightsuggest value as well, I suppose); Iconclude these idiosyncratic murmurings of bothersome almost-people Reprimandingmy almost-conscience ar.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ethan_owens8/1926504/ As shadow flees theburning sun, I escape my heart's captor, carrying my core through a dark,gloomy cave; my sewer of a soul, searching for any glimmering optimism that mayremain in such thickly overwhelming black mud. Finding nothing, Iturn toward t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ethan_owens8/1926503/  Black tales flow fromdarker ink.Terrible, tall towersare traced by louring hands.Stories revealingthemselves like foxes beginning to slink, Pouncing whilst theirvictims give no enduring reprimand. I, the hunter, begin.'Ti.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ethan_owens8/1926502/