http://slow.writerscafe.org/A%20Writer%27s%20Curse The original writings of author A Writer's Curse en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776104979 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Like gulls at the beachThey squawk, loud and relentless,Until the bell rings.But in two days they'll return,In search of more salty chips. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/1818319/ There’s a tenderness in herHands; she’s done this before, Many times, in fact. Soft and delicate, her handsS          w         e     &nbs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/1606922/ Fall.* * *Strong willed to a fault,The last sugar maple leaf sits,Confined by its stalk,To its branch. In truth it deserves better,Much better,But you won't hear it complain.A faint whisper to the Autumn breeze perhaps, But no...Silence mostly. It .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/1495582/ Sneaker fiends,Shine and gleam. Get yours. 'Hoooruh!Hooo-Ruh!!!''Uh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!'Siren blasts (something blasts):Game time. 'We good.'Pound it pound it pound it...Lock down/slide/switch! CutCutCut!'Get it get it get it!' Get yours. 'Yeeeeeaaaaahhhhh!!!!!'.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/1484967/ In the silence of the night Fear pours from myCapillaries,Like sand playing chasey in an hourglass.Trapped inside my headI mine my thoughts,Horrifically hopeless,Like a fly caught in web,Or a soldier on death's bed. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/1484388/ You've seen it coming,  [foreboding] dreamt feared it. [phobic]Woken up in the piercing night wondering if you'd already experienced it. [a sudden influx of dread]But no, not yet. [fleeting respite]Future nostalgia, [oxymoronic deja vu]You ca.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/1446411/ bro/ken.the system;what system? Mouthsopen, ‘ . . . ’ yet theirharrowing screams of pique are unheard,unuttered;unimagined [vacant] - the dilemma itself.  Thought spurned by ENTITLEMENT (or negl.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/1410363/ Ring, ring. The bells blast, but no one hears them.Skool's out. The yearn to learn a chapter in an untouched textbook, collecting dust; archaic.Political propaganda pilfering people of the truth,Punctuating the problem, As teachers pour their hearts into the future. The facade l.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/1362442/ the PuLsAtInG is mesmerising.flowing violently, powerfully, from fingertip to temple, visiting every responsive post.                     r                    e  &nb.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/1312464/ One for destiny, I am. I was.I believed it wholeheartedlyuntil I didn't...Worn, emotionally, I was.Scarred and blistered.Frail even,or so I thought.I had met you oftenbefore we had really met.Talking without conversing, without knowing.Yet, something was there. Subtle glances paved th.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/1233063/ No. Bad. Writing.No. Bad. Writing...Yet, there it was,read as blasé dialogue, polluting their ears. It was the insipid expression that was overbearing;forged and vulgar.The eloquence of past verse,the romance,lost.  Replaced instead by greedand the incessant chase for gravy.Cre.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/1158737/ In the lonely man's denhis sanguine eyes drownand he mops the floor with cumbersome feet, angling for his bitter saviour.  His thoughts permeate the surrounds, harsh, jagged articles that wouldn't be so in a different light, and choke him, ever so slowly, like constrict.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/1061181/ twenty three ways to happiness and counting. devious minds, lips are pouting.tension fills the air; sexual fantasies,romantic deeds ...and religious blasphemies. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/1055321/ Laughter fiends, they are...Forever in the moment;Hyenas' brethren.   http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/1051810/ Power to the learned.He who can articulate sinand live, free, because of it, while those who cannot writestarve in cells and streets.  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/1044959/ Imagine...A place where style and form resides supreme and emphasis accelerates the thought process. A place where tense does not matterbecause everyone, everything, is relaxed...In this place, words are free to grow or shrink- they show you how they feel; brail runs wild, .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/1044958/ Unusual, like sun in the nightLike feeling so right when you’ve just had a funeralDeath’s counting down ‘til it lands on your numeral Morbid phenomena, surely something humoral   Success is never concreteBut historic.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/987088/ Tears dripping,Gushing, rushing.Memories escape,Hearts acheAnd pound, a reverberating sound. Senses fluctuate; aromatic, charismatic.Contradictory wishes.Brief glimpsesAnd near misses. Tender touches With subtle kisses.A bon.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/982997/ Inspiration/it builds up insideBut then it tries to hide/lyrical genocide A recreation of the mind’s gift he tries to findTrapped in the presence of the same man’s broken pride He searches far and wide, for that elusive prize .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/977456/ The blank page mocks him. Stares at him unrelentingly; pale skin camouflaging ivory irises. No colour will be shown today, just the blank page - thecursor its heartbeat. Steady state is in full manifestation, yet you.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/966111/ Long threads fall from an apex, framing eyes that yours cannot leave. Lashes curl out, invitingly, and flutter elegantly, like a butterfly taking off from a lily-pad,leaving nary a ripple in sight. Our spectrum does little to justify their colour, a seducingly innocent .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/959512/ She keeps finding new ways to hurt me, even though she's not even here. Waiting for a telephone call I know will never come, another pain to which I will succumb. I see her every day and night, yet, I never see her at all. But when I do, it's first blissful, then hearta.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/959508/ I spit free verse,like subliminals hurt,but what sense does that really make?And where would you take me, to straight dissipate me, and finish this here my heart's break?The flow of the words, so right with nouns and with verbs,as adjectives fit just like fate.And my fire inside,&nbsp.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/959506/ I wish, I wish, I wish...to drink the memories of the fore.To inhale lifeand exhale 'goodbye',as streams of unconscious tears flow like pollen in a springtime breezeand blood circulates not oxygen, but integrity. And honour.I wish, I wish, I wish...it was but a fracture,turning heads that don't exis.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/959493/ ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- lines----------------IIIvertical lines---------------------------------------------------------------------------- horizontal lineserased linesregulations, red tape, warnings. call them what you will, they all t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/959478/ It’s a slow melodic tune with a rhythm that’s set,A soulful kind of mimicked mood; don’t adjust your set.Just listen close to the beat to hear the voice of regret,The one that reminisces over girls that you can’t forget. Can we.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/954321/ It started off in high school, living in my own worldFantasies be blamed, wasn’t getting close to no girlFeeling isolated ‘cause I wasn’t too socialVoice never heard ‘cause I wasn’t too vocal And now I just sit .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/954320/ Walking this path, you haven’t got a choice.But what does itmatter, when you scream they don’t hear your voice? *          *          *He sits, contemplatin.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/915146/ Bounce to that beat,to the sound of Spalding making love to the street,whether it's asphalt or concrete,the place you an yours come to meet.A place where leather and cotton resonate,in a scene that lets you celebrate,like the players you love to emulate,their skills you try to replicate. And as.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/893401/ He pulls words like doctors do stitches,precise,with just enough pain to keep you on edge.But he is no wordsmith, rather a lost sole looking to reunite his romance with the verse. He caresses the page the only way he knows how, with a rough hand that evokes ext.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/852416/ The perpetual soundabuses the patrons, like shrapnel in a congested room. Their ears raped by deep bass and shallow lyrics. Yet, they are oblivious to the fall.Lips stain glasses and cameras alike,forming myriad shapes that would, on any other occasion, embarrass them al.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/831820/ There are times in lifethat come to define who we are.We kiss for the first time, we laugh and we fight.We adore and we suffer.Either way, the times keep occurring. They roll over like hills chasing the horizon.They make us.... feel. We go through all sorts of emotions;heartache, sorr.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/831788/ The junction,the road. A way to reach the end, through death and arrival. Two distinct paths, one ever so more impactful than the other. Results speak for themselves. On many occasions the journey will be forgotten before it has even registered. On others, It .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/823785/ Feelings that I don't fit in, Only have one or two friends, A job that's insecure, And a heart that needs a cure. I am trapped inside my mind,Penning thoughts that no-one will read, Seeking affection I so desperately need, And longing the halt of this pain that I bleed... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/823775/ A confession from a hoop fiend. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/823772/ His heart speaks in silence, Though it rocks his soul, And while he tries to ignore it, It fulfils its role, Reaching out to the future, But holding on to the past, Time seems to sit still, As he ponders 'How long will this last?' http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/823770/ I fly like them pilots,Like them hi-tops,Grab them while you can, 'Cause soon they'll switch them lights off,And then they're gone, Like your lover, Left alone, Undercovers,But it's no secret, No disguise, Just a mind full of lies, Waiting to be written down, .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/823768/ Trapped in the present, Though it's a time of past tense.Searching for the future, But blindness Rekes Havoc.Not a King, But a burden.Give me strength for the fall, Give me breath for the climb, And perspective of it all.  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/823766/ Isolated.Along the lonely road they fall, Against his will, Like leaves on a cool Autumn's day. He tries to resist it, Tries to fight the inevitable,And for a brief moment he succeeds. But then, Gerald Wallace, it's all overAnd he shall never breathe again.  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/823765/ Forged lines from a corny movie,This was all he could muster.After thirty years of marriage, This was all he cold muster.And she hated him for it, rightfully so, but it didn't make a difference. They continued living how they always had, Together, in body alone.  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/823763/ Frustration.It bleeds him.Cuts him deeper than any knife to the gullet ever could.But he cannot speak, He is frozen.  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/823762/ Cast adrift on a shore of time, Where the wind weeps and the tide howls,The lonely man sits....Contemplating his own existence.  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/823761/ A series of thoughts, with no real connection. Call it my poetic stream of consciousness, if you like. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/823760/ She was beautiful...The type of beautiful that you seldom see.Yet she lay there, lifeless.It was the type of Thursday that she had come to expect.And when he was done, She could rest. In peace.  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/823757/ Imagination.Fixated by the fact and the illusion.Contraction, The art of retraction, cost cutting, labor starving.How can I help you if I no longer exist?The manifestation of a reciprocating dilemma.  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/823756/ I am love and I am hope, Sifting through the porous capillaries of society, To land where I am forgotten, And shed light on an overcast dream. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/823755/ Those heroes,The ones whose faces continue to go unrecognised, And whose names will never be spoken, Are the ones to whom we will forever be indebted.  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/823754/ Paint the sky,Walk with me,Do not look backOr the shadows will catch you. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/823753/ The fleeting moments we shareSave me from what is an otherwise shallow day.A day full of smiles and exchanged greetings,All of them fake.Polite, but fake nonetheless.Our connection is not so obvious.Though I am unsure if it goes any deeper than some peripheral fantasy, I am sure it is all that .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/820675/ It's funnyOne day you're ahead of the curve Then, all of a sudden, you're trying to find that curveTrying to find that verb that will get you movingTrying to curb that 'tude that got you losingAnd when you look back, there's nothing thereDistant memories turn to a blurPeriods fade to jet blackA.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/A-Writer%27s-Curse/820226/