http://slow.writerscafe.org/Aaran123 The original writings of author Pratik en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776028702 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 p.p1 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; color: #454545}There are daysWhen I add Drops of lavender In bone china cupsWatching the tea turn ivory In soft, cloudy swirls. As their last murky drops Trickle down To my morning .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Aaran123/1912875/ The black, cavernous lesions Don’t you let them heal darling Let them smolderWith the fierceness of stars Bleed, With the temerity of rivulets And when it’s time You will draw patterns out of them, Motifs and fortune spelling oracles For you ain’.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Aaran123/1870107/ He finally found it. Rummaging through the panelled,oak-polished shelves of books, his eyes finally caught the name of the author:Vladimir Nabokov- emblazoned in bold letters along its rim. He frisked it out fromthe shelf, turning it over.In a few days’ time he would be leaving this.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Aaran123/1387353/ “In yourlife you meet people. Some you never think about again. Some, you wonder whathappened to them. There are some that you wonder if they ever think about you.And then there are some that you wish you never have to think about again. Butyou do.” ~C.S. Lewis Family .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Aaran123/1270954/ "Happy Halloween" http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Aaran123/1053206/ A mother's greatest sin http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Aaran123/1050449/ “There is still that singular perfection, and it's perfect in part because it seemed, at the time, so clearly to promise more.” ― Michael Cunningham (The Hours)Rotate - just by a quarter of a half-circle,Flatten the crises of the tapering corners,Gently pressing precise for.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Aaran123/1048620/ There's an opposite to déjà vu. They call it jamais vu. It's when you meet the same people or visit places, again and again, but each time is the first. Everybody is always a stranger. Nothing is ever familiar.”- Chuck Palahniuk (Choke) Evening summary -Bee buzz,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Aaran123/1044555/ “Know you what it is to be a child? It is to be something very different from the man of to-day. It is to have a spirit yet streaming from the waters of baptism; it is to believe in love, to believe in loveliness, to believe in belief; it is to be so little that the elves can reach to .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Aaran123/1038915/    Don't you just love those long rainy afternoons in New Orleans when an hour isn't just an hour - but a little piece of eternity dropped into your hands - and who knows what to do with it?”― Tennessee Williams (A Streetcar Named Desire) Some prayers are answeredBefor.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Aaran123/1031527/ “The Mediterranean has the color of mackerel, changeable I mean. You don't always know if it is green or violet, you can't even say it's blue, because the next moment the changing reflection has taken on a tint of rose or gray.”  Vincent Van Gogh (Dutch painter)The porcelain m.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Aaran123/939432/ “I still had this idea that there was a whole world of marvelous golden people somewhere, as far ahead of me as the seniors at Rye when I was in the sixth grade; people who knew everything instinctively, who made their lives work out the way they wanted without even trying, who never h.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Aaran123/934511/  “The fame thing isn't really real… you know…Don't forget …I'm also just a girl… standing in front of a boy… asking him to love her.”  Julia Roberts (as Anna Scott in Notting Hill)A pseudo-panorama,On the tainted panesOf my white limousine,T.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Aaran123/923933/ "Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why,Theirs but to do and die:Into the valley of DeathRode the six hundred.” ~ Lord Tennyson (in The Charge of the Light Brigade)Part 1The last rays of the lilac sky flushedIn tufts of brunet mare’s tail,“Hark! My seamen hark!”I.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Aaran123/916092/ “The problem lay buried, unspoken, for many years in the minds of American women. It was a strange stirring, a sense of dissatisfaction, a yearning that women suffered in the middle of the twentieth century in the United States. Each suburban wife struggled with it alone. As she made t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Aaran123/902846/ Some have blamed it on those eccentricities,On the recurrences of a whim,But failed to look deep insideWhere the crevices have long waited,Waited to be filled.And what would they not do,Do for a few drops of rain,A few drops of rain on the land barren,For it has long been haunted by the chastity,And.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Aaran123/900635/ "Nobody notices when we leave. I mean, the moment when we really choose to go. At best you might feel a whisper, or the wave of a whisper, undulating down...I was here for a moment. And then I was gone. I wish you all a long and happy life." ~ The Lovely BonesAnd here I lie in an all consum.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Aaran123/897874/ A gurgle rouses from deep within,But the foam vaporizes in the mouth,The drought within has lit a fire,Burning my inside out.The words inside have died a prenatal death,The muffled cries mists into a long drawn sigh,A thousand knives in this bleeding heart,The beats heaving in a final goodbye.The mo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Aaran123/840633/ It has been so long,So very-very long…………Ages ago I had lived a dream,In the sea of reminiscence,I hear old memories scream. Today I take off at last,To go back where my universe was born,To unearth a buried story,A place, far away and forlorn. Leaving behind a .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Aaran123/839629/ A soft, round cocoon,Braved the summer heat and monsoon,How stunning it is!The Metamorphosis! Her wings chant their myriad dreams,Sprinkled with hues; pink, gold and cream.Over the Carpathian Mountains, past the Russian moors,She wants to take a gypsy tour. A French kiss in Paris, bullfigh.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Aaran123/808144/ One pleasant autumn has come and gone,The robin has sung its very last song.Winter is here on its midway,Frozen lakes , snow on the highway. December 31st; Eve of the New Year,Festive mood; euphoria in the air,Maddening crowd and twinkling lights,The city will see one big, crazy night. Hou.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Aaran123/805524/ When the dusk kisses the earth so damp,And the flame flickers in the yellow lamps,A door opens, up in the brick lane,She steps out slowly; but she is no plain Jane. Her children have said the evening prayers,Put to bed with sheets in layers,Poor little John and poor little Jenny!But she must go.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Aaran123/804731/ The dark clouds form a black canopy,Thunder strikes the mortal life,The demons play their cruel game,Unleashing bloody war and cold strife.Innocent die, the angels flee,The Evil cackles and rejoices in glee.The sun is eclipsed, darkness fall,The moon looks ghastly, like a shattered crystal ball.Pray.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Aaran123/804274/ The parchment still smells of nail polish,Painted red on your finger nails.The writing scattered with tears from your eyes,Like ripples on water where raindrops fell. The writing says,”Dear Sam”,The gentle curves scrawled by your trembling hands.As the words shine, in my sodden eyes.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Aaran123/803714/ At last I hear the summonsThe wind beckons, from foreign shoresThe sublime touch on my aching shouldersThe first step! Oh! Here I comeMy quest for unworldly pleasures The wait has been too long, too long it has been.Stood entwined in the circle of enigmaBefuddled and bewitched was I, by the car.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Aaran123/803415/ The wait, the hope, the lust in thoseWide, astounded eyes were lostEven tears felt ashamed to be bestowed in themThose dark, black balls embedded in the socketsLooked vacant & voidLike dark tunnels and passageways of morbidity, lostIn darkness of infinity. Its heart wrenched and torn apartI.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Aaran123/803198/ Wistful eyes, the sudden fallthe fragile cry and the yellow world.Laughter dies, the air is staleWithin this heart, a raging gale.The broken heart, rotten to the core,Deep inside, the wounds turn soreAmbitions of fire, dreams galoreFar away, the oceans roar.Gusty winds, the drizzling rain,The blue-j.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Aaran123/803193/ He reached the edge of the cliff,where the slope went down to meet the earth beneath.He gazed at the world before him;Encompassed in a deadly silencethe wind sighed in vain below,but it seemed to be shouting in his ears. Far away in the horizonwhere the earth kissed the white skythe sun sank;a .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Aaran123/803191/