http://slow.writerscafe.org/AnonHimMoose The original writings of author AnonHimMoose en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776055798 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Shall I still wait here by the grassfor glimpsing once more at your limbs,or keep the way I came, which dimsfor new hopes you would repass?I do not wish your joy- which trimsthe vague field's furrows with the neatadornment of your snapping feet-to be disturbed by my whims:    &nb.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2821862/ Through the garden gates, there gapes the viewOf poplars papering the pallid airWith the exhum'd light of the leaves-streak'd blue,that brings him what doubts he once was the heirWhen questioned he the membrane of the hushThat covert saplings, bubbling through the bark,strewed with dew blushed by th.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2821861/ Sleepwalkinginvisible yet spawning by the myriads,they crawl already through the empty nooks,behind the grids of circumvented periodslaid to confine uncertainties in looks;but nightmares populate the world unseenmocking which palliative tries them to screen.like the thin curtain covering the window,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2821859/ TOMORROWHow shall I wear the endless yearThat will have ended when I bearTheir stare tomorrow, awarea pending judgement will declarehow did the suits I fought impairthe final triumph of their snare?The arena will be filledWith spectators by their expectations stilled:All critics of a poor sort, thri.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2821856/ A butterfly I saw today,Whose trembling wings had sparked the greyThat seeped through the barren buildingFrom the toil to its dark spoils wielding.Delicate, like its ridden ray,The insect shed a bright arrayThat seemed to be of sulphur made,As it gushed forth th' immobile shade,Entrapped between the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2821855/ There's a bouqúet of violets that burst a coronetof diodes mourning on the sidewalk curb. Their silhouettecapitulates the sleep that carpeted the showersthe curious eyes cast to earn speed. It's odd how it towerswith gracious balance fencing through the grievous grey,Where just rain slimes di.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2821853/ 1Softly trembling -like theblood on the warm lipsThat tastes still of the lastkissThe lovers sealed on theiradieu, which dripsBenumb with peace theirhurled abyss-The garland of the dusk onleaves ink'd, sipsThe starlings circumventinghissThat swoops its darkeni.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2821273/ 1It is as clear as thought could ever makeThe dream that harbinger th'impossibleConceit that beauty is for beauty's sake.Amoral art, albeit desirable,Would mean to have created something thatDeliberately lacks the predicateOf being of interest for contemplation,That's therefore not perceived to be s.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2821272/ 1No torrent ever wearied anywordWhile tempered by the tormentof its waves;On sculptured rocks the taleis still recurredOf the self-shedding tonguesfrom th' harboured cavesThat through the wails theytreble undeterredThey stave their raving inth'entrail that paves.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2821271/ I dreamt today of passingnext the graveyard where she lays,And hearing chirping from thegoldcrests birds, that the barren raysOf the boughs twinkled withthe plumes that puffed the cold with embers,And with their tails ascomets they arrayed the modest bowersThat bowed down the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2821269/ the banging of the cupboard doorreminds me that I did forgetthat lives with me one flatmate more.whose idiocy seeks an outlet.they both are sadly poor in brain;each in his vein, makes wisdom vain.while th'other erroneouslyputs trust in his capacity,this one succeeds, effortlessly,in treating no acti.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2821268/ the exhibition came and parted: objects,of sort, that were on shelves with pompous carecozened to engage the spurious prospectsthe visitors would direct in a flarewhen dreadful art their interest impair.the walls are empty now; the white againrefills the space that is once more left barefor the next.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2821267/ I cannot think. I cannot doAnything- I cannot reachBeyond the forcing luxuryMusic escalates with atransparencyThat sods my thoughts to asevere trodThey can't drop nor detractfrom clodding.I can't articulate more thanA cluttering of loiteredwinds,Which buzzing bursts and bowsdo striveTo whe.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2819149/ 1The painter, while itplasters its palette To temper the hues’ rightfulshade; The poet, as from words it doespalate The sounds to gird a hingedcascade; With lines on lines, theyboth capitulateTheir thoughts to tombs, tillit’s arraye.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2818380/ I know the look that holdshis headSwinging heavily both ways:HeSure thinks how hard it is tolead A lonely ecstasy where he,And he only, knows truewisdom,And he must save all men fromdoom. The reason that I know histhoughtsIs that I have them too;.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2818379/ the summer of an Italian seasidearches my hairs through the exiled freshnessthat wallows the sun on the Vltava tide.the same giddy unveil of blissfulnessbathed the skin clotted with iodidewhen the sight chanced on a breeze piped dressand the glowing flesh in that shaded hidegemmed intimacy among wre.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2780892/ As the morning forbids the dreams' nursery,the eyes creep in the breaches weaned by lightover the gems of shadows that offer their veinsto the waking embrace of other goodbyes.There he saw the closing night of his journey,when she was a withering lullaby in his armswhispering syllables that kindled .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2774835/ How would it be like a spider be:with sleek legs gather mastery over the groundslowly pulling darkness from the crooked hidingsand hang a hideous rhythm above the gravity void:a puppeteer kept stillby the tension of its strings.Derive from four the coordinationcontrolling the world by its double:a m.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2774834/ It is time to rethink philosophies.the books that perch the shelves like scarecrows,their massive jackets enlightening dust,collected to warn visitors to kneel,are suited to be resumed from sleepingand replace in dialogues distant friends.it is when the object is no more thatit comes to life, says H.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2774832/ start from selecting the proper setting:a familiar space is best suitedfor the viewers to recognize their daysand be pleased by the charming display.then the choice of adequate characters:that they might resemble common rolesteacher, driver, or even stepbrothers;no practical acting skills are needed.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2774831/ my muse requires that I feel nauseatedwhen my talismans are not of her worth,and must remediate with intense turmoil.I think of her all the more strenuouslynow that I can't double her grace in praise,but the love of my muse by no one laysand freely bestows to whoever playsaccents and rhymes to accru.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2774830/ reality kindly brims to remindmore urgent incongruencies that arethe credited interests for filtering dreams,spring has returned and on the dainty treesthe sequestred colour winter preservedexplode with blurred portamento on the landscapes.the rosy blush of the cherry blossomseems a bleached burnt o.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2774829/ upon a fallen bough he satmusing it seemed with the eyes on the river.from the other side of the bankchildren played and adolescents flirtatiously drunk.he didn't mind, he nodded not his headto the scene of lust and its mistakes.he let the slow procession of the grasscome down to bathe at the ripple.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2774828/ swallow dearare you aware of the year we spent down here?albeit in the trees the seasons campaigned to springand other songbirds already inlaid the slumbered busheswhere plenty of gnats serve to be your good food,there is still the surprise at seeing your flightscoming to say that the cold is finall.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2774827/ descend lower, bellow the life liberties,under the smirk of the deaf weatherslower down through the immortal nightinto the crypt of the clustered scents.nothing there to trap the sight besidesolid darkness that triggers the lungsto the tears they too long overdue.lower and lower not a rest for the f.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2774826/ mysterious friend from my the vacuous echoes,why did you return on this hammering tuneand cast my thoughts in the basso continuoof tongues I wade to receive the fresh silence?did I maybe lost some of that melodythat I first hear only for moving awayfrom other spurns? did I then not properlyrevered t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2774825/ 1a storm of laughter breaks into the room;the party's begun. The diaphanous wallsdivide the sounds from the guests left behind.there light-hearted spirits spend togetherthe vacuity of their flame, which consumesall that it lightens for its amusement,and higher it shines when gathered aroundother spa.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2774824/                                                                                      .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2128799/ Among the dolmens of the barred cagetwo degus turn each promenade in stage:to acknowledge reciprocal recognitionsqueak and jump with settled fiction,allowing each other the time to feelthat all is done in play and displayof teeth and arched back that delayfor the othe.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2127418/ nothing more than a womangiving her smiles for whimsand touch for cheap delight;not a goddess answeringto the loyal prayer,worshipping her on highs,that nothing disdainsbut the impure rituals;where is the ordering motionthat could restore faithin the begging eyes mistedby kindness it cannot restore?.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2127417/ rain falls from the sky seat,wet drops bring darker huesto bricks and floors the heathas bleached with pale shades; a spider crawls the wallto taste the vapours on its bodyand rests in a cool poolthat its legs circle in stillness; the dripping sounds.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2123684/ My friend, my brother,my beloved, Gilgamesh,where have our battles taken us?What have we tried to inscribein the milestones we left to standfor a gap that changed the morewe pursued to stuff it vainlywith taxidermic glories?My heart has always been at your side,and it grew fonder the more yours,was .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2123337/ van gogh would have made ita manifesto for the miners' lifeleaving their suffering in a rushto move home for the ritual of another waiting working day;magritte would have seensome eagles spinning on the glasswith the cigarette smokes reaching highswhere a flipped mountain would not have be.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2122568/ I have tried all the words I knowI have been searching on friend's facesfor that individuality that wouldgive me any stable certainty,I dubbed it with the sounds thatwere available to my chameleon sensesfeelings, reality, imagination, love,they all stained for the time beforeI faded in a new mandala.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2122566/ here I finally have reached your watersfrom the mountain I have raced downwith the fire that strummed the cloudsand to the stillness of your controlled rage, I come to wash away the forests scarsthe rivers have run where I spedand they too have carried the airtha.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2122464/ no mythology has yet ever daredto give me a name_I am no godI have no place on any altar,yet I am in all minds and to methey all pay their tributes unawares.men have experienced methe moment that the flight of the beewas no more sufficient to draw on flowersthe blossomed thoughts they couldn'tfind t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2122382/ this line is taken from the poem New Metric and it is prepared to fit the requirements of Write Me a One Liner, contest. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2122349/ search breach beyond reach,                     words not words                          but that which is only words,          t.s. eliot somehow but not .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2122346/ growling crawling and bowlingthe circumstances within the forms we holdchange and are changed with usin the face that springs out behind them thatfeeds  our insecurities and pointsto the steeps we will take to be driven surelyapart from the touched illusionwe once believed be able to cherish an.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2121175/ the sun has withdrawn at its nadir  it will not smear on our hieroglyphic;let its tongues licking the earth bellowrevive in our veins chasing its fire,the moon is a prophetical badgethat closes the clothes of the nightwaiting for our interlacing fingersto strip the heat from our stirred ha.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2121174/ people laugh in their movementsthe lifting of each limb is an artwhen confidence easily stringsa body that remembers the melodyand postures familiarly shapethe shy sights trying to balancea point of hold where relief restson the walls grips sneering severelythere was a time that these spacesdelivere.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2121173/ remember the time that we could usewords we did not understandto animate, rather than control,the forms that nature envisioned us in? the tree was not a tree thenit was the experience of a mystical giantthat our limbs prophetically bent toto complete the motion t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2120943/ does the bird ,as it perches on top of the tree,know the majesty in that figurebent forward to hold the breaththat awakens its song and my sight?maybe the bird singsmore than I can seefor when I point my eyeson the form I once beheld,I capture unfamiliar returns,the blurring of the features tha.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2120720/ if there is anything i am trying to attempt, is with this poem to introduce all that i might have been trying to attempt so far http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2120714/ ilarius,the toad at the doorso minute resolutionto hold the sways ofbusy steeps runningin the deep black pitof indifferent pupilswith tiny skin bossingall human intentionsthat in the absorptionsof their abstract wayslinger an endless timeto fancy the detail in theconference of its scornto leave noth.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2120708/ she stands effortlesslyat the point that my steepsinevitably converge.on the altar of fancyshe holds the reinthat pull my tearing sight. although with no deadly stingshe poured poison into mefor her delight_to feel shiveringthe satin stories in which I wa.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2120582/ it is as if the mountains that crown the viewwere the canvas for our brushing movementswhere wet passions and desires roll and flowas the river that once sculptured them.it is nature answer in timeless piracyto continue the evolutionary ragethat alimented our vision of theinvisible light beyond diff.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2120440/ perception unfoldschaos coiling on chaosalways for the same nothingmeeting us in the slug pace aswe strive to carry questions thatcan bring to our ears the answer inthe broken cracks of our unused feelings,to the point of discerning the design in the silence of the past thatis gone with no solu.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2120438/ creation downed on meit chocked with the voicesthe land trusted into my throatand the words that I will ever haveare doomed to be not mine own.as I saw his face,that skin of heavenly aria,plunging in the ripples jaws,I thought to be ableto make of my visions a portraitthat would lure him to a contem.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2120432/ I would give it all awayall that has come from his lossthe poetry the music the lovewhat has filled the space he hadand that has made me what I am_I would give it all awaythe discovery of this independenceto return to the moment of ignorancewhen all I formulated was with him withdrawn as I was .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AnonHimMoose/2120430/