<?xml version="1.0" encoding="ISO-8859-1"?>
<rss version="2.0">
	<channel>
		<title>Nicole | WritersCafe.org</title>
		<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/Noel1821</link>
		<description>The original writings of author Nicole</description>
		<language>en-us</language>
		<copyright>Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org</copyright>
		<lastBuildDate>1776339516</lastBuildDate>
		<generator>WritersCafe.org RSS Generator</generator>
		<ttl>15</ttl>
		<item>
			<title>Things Left Undone</title>
			<description>I woke this morning and immediatelytripped and fell on parts of yesterday.Parts left undone; parts left unfolded.Like unworn clothes draped over chairs;&amp;nbsp;yesterdays words drape my mouth.Words roll over my lips like dried dough.Licked and moistened to be cut into anyshape that can be given a name..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Noel1821/1337590/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Our Minds are God</title>
			<description> Our minds are God.Regardless of faith, we begin and end with it. Regardless of our dreams and the pillows they fall on. Regardless of our time and the clocks they hide in.Our mirrors with the movie reflections. Regardless the ants and the picnics we bring them. Our cars we drive and..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Noel1821/1232114/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title> Birthday Celebrations </title>
			<description>I&amp;rsquo;m sick of this yearly fixation...What&amp;rsquo;s the fascination?&amp;nbsp;There&amp;rsquo;s not a single decoration.&amp;nbsp;What&amp;rsquo;s to show up for? -&amp;nbsp;I've&amp;nbsp;made no reservation.&amp;nbsp;I've sent out not one invitation.Clearly a common frustration.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Tell you what...&amp;nbsp;Lets take a&amp;..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Noel1821/1140894/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Lovers</title>
			<description>We are nothing more than humble fires;&amp;nbsp;warming only to the touch of a lovers blush.&amp;nbsp;</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Noel1821/985934/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>This Fruitful Mass Of Cadence </title>
			<description>You have mistaken the sweetness of fruit.You have mistaken its identity with thetaste of its wet skin dripping into a clusterof sugary silk.&amp;nbsp;A weight only as strong as the wind it fights with.Yet, every sweet speck of its texture has a purpose.What it takes to ripen under a burning sun is contr..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Noel1821/985931/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Prelude To My Story</title>
			<description>You are like the prelude to my story, the punctuation to my end;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;You enrich me.You walk towards me and I watch the edges of the world blur;&amp;nbsp;You amaze me.&amp;nbsp;Swimming on the surface of your&amp;nbsp;eyes;&amp;nbsp;You soothe me.&amp;nbsp;My hands in yours is like taking a drink of home;&amp;nbsp;Yo..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Noel1821/985925/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>I'll leave the light on</title>
			<description>A note to myself</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Noel1821/734186/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Sailing</title>
			<description>He is like a ship I keep trying to sail- across an ocean that soaks me in fear. Holding my fear in his hands, as if my fear were my hands. Stepping in front of me like a shield, pressing back the waves so my skin could dry.&amp;nbsp;Never wrapping his lips over the sharp points with a kiss, ..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Noel1821/733667/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Gypsies&amp;rsquo; Ode to the Caravan</title>
			<description>Oh when the cold lurks past&amp;nbsp;our doors,we gypsies love your heated seats.Stars guide our weary hearts,better yet,&amp;nbsp;headlights show the streets.&amp;nbsp;We journey together,one heartbeat echo&amp;rsquo;s for all.My people voice together,next stop, the nearest mall!&amp;nbsp;Charm..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Noel1821/733609/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>A fan story</title>
			<description>Loose papers take flight, and find&amp;nbsp;new homes to dwell.Flowers huddle together, with new stories to tell.&amp;nbsp;And calendars &amp;#2013266048;&quot;Well, their story is a little unsaid; &amp;nbsp;Since they keep flipping two months ahead.&amp;nbsp;And every fifteen seconds, clothes dance together;..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Noel1821/733570/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>The day is a child</title>
			<description>If I could, I would sleep all day and wake in the brilliant nightDay expects too muchDay expects grass to be green; the sky to be blueSo intense, so proud the sun, that nothing else can shine&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Selfishly casting shadows to anyone who gets in her way&amp;nbsp;The day is a c..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Noel1821/733567/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Detour</title>
			<description>Road construction ahead. Another pending relationship. Potentually harmless. A fly stuck to the windshield. Its smashed body meaning as much as the life it once had. Just past the corpse the sign comes into view: &quot;Detour&quot; The break up begins. No apologies, no explanations. Just maybe the wind.. it..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Noel1821/733563/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>More on a leaf-101</title>
			<description>A display of warmth and blush would once make its way down the tree.Gracefully it left, like a final bow at the end of a play; so frail, yet, quite tender to the eyes of the admiring audience.Mornings pass dressed in suites and ties, carrying a briefcase of winter clouds.Mucky leaves now slop ..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Noel1821/733561/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>My entrance</title>
			<description>I find myself trapped by bodies that move with this continuous stride and feet that march with fashionable certainty. My feet falter sideways to make room as I&amp;rsquo;m forced to face the faces, forced to catch the eyes that catch on me. Changing direction at this point would only draw more attention..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Noel1821/733090/</link>
		</item>
	</channel>
</rss>