http://slow.writerscafe.org/DanCowan The original writings of author Dan Cowan en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776121379 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Oh Lord, deliver me from these...Hands that seek to strangle meFangs that maul and mangle meDragging me down into the earthI choke on dirt til both lungs burnI hurt, I churn, like water in a stormI reach, I plead, desperate for my LordI rage, I crave, for a seed of something more.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DanCowan/2467761/ I wrote this piece on the last morning of a 3.5 day fast I recently completed.For this fast I abstained from food, coffee, beer, and entertainment, drinking only room-temp water and meditating on God http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DanCowan/2460888/ Dried out like an old wineskinWhile the fire burns so sad and dimI’m tired of struggling to keep it litSo maybe I’ll rest and fold my limbs http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DanCowan/2400797/   Hehad plenty of reason to disgorge his dinner that night�"namely, whiskey.Burning, biting, delightful whiskey. Jim Beam Honey, to be precise; knockedback shot after shot from a glass he had purchased at Badlands National Park inNorth Dakota, a glass that exhibited a st.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DanCowan/2028440/ DesiccateHollowed outFervor run dryEncumbered by desertNowhere to hide http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DanCowan/2020052/ Oh, in the solitude of nightmy heart is a flaming stoneaching, groaning, screamingcraving a simple touchto be knownan embrace to scrape a sparka tender word to soak my earsa pair of eyes to awaken longinggentle fingers to thread with minebonding tearsSometimes I'm at peaceSometimes I'm just numbSome.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DanCowan/2016723/ When my will to fight begins to slipWhich is more often then I care to admitI feel a monster awaken its eyesAnd snarl fierce from deep insideThere are times when my reactions are slowWhen vigilance is sloppy and spirits are down lowThe first punch is too late, the predator has pouncedAnd is gorging .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DanCowan/2016625/ Dead leaves underfootSprinkled by a spring rainAlong this path I tread aloneThrough the morning's pale grayThe twittering of birds is placidAnd I pause to gaze at hills of oldCresting and dipping in solitudeTree-soaked are these forest's foldsRooted pillars not yet leafedNakedly stretching to clouds.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DanCowan/2016055/ Just another bitter pill on my tongueGrimace and glugSwallow it down and recall what I've sungWith burning lungsGod, I am growing weary of pill and pillBut I'll suck it upFor I know my grave will not be filled'Fore I wade in muck'You are my strength when I am weakYou are the treasure that I seekYou .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DanCowan/2011564/ A letter to God from the pen of a sinner:How am I worth the grace You deliver?When I gave my back to Your wounded faceand walked away to wanton disgracePursuing lusts and selfish ambitionI forgot my Love and rejected contritionI found a world of suicide dreamsin the depths of a well that ingested me.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DanCowan/2010814/ There was a time oncewhen my arms ran red with wantthat ink had stained my mind and confusion reignedin the blaze of hope defunctDemons awoke behind my eyesbearing fruit that noxiously wiseThey peddled their poison and readied chainsto snare me with horror's guiseI floundered in the fireAloneJabbed .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DanCowan/2004740/ You tell me what YOU think this one means, how bout that? Smiley face http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DanCowan/2003336/ This one deals with my frequent failure to fight, to just sit back and allow sin to take over. Rendering me dead once more. But when I get my head in the game and pray for strength, God delivers http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DanCowan/2000897/ I wrote this poem about selfishness and the vile grip it all too often has on me. The ending, although hopeful and seemingly concrete, is not so. Concrete, anyway. I try and fall...but I press on http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DanCowan/1998705/ This guy is about the despondency, lethargy, and listlessness that frequently sways me. The ending is a plea to God to impassion me once more, to 'let me burn' with a resolve to ever press onward http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DanCowan/1994764/ In the bible, Paul claims that he boasts in his weaknesses, for in them God exhibits the wonder of His power. So this poem is me, like Paul, boasting and inviting God to be 'the Power inside my lows' http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DanCowan/1993704/