http://slow.writerscafe.org/sea2sea The original writings of author Sean Eaton en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775397549 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 A poem inspired by the Arabic love poetry of Nizar Qabbani. Too niche to get published so I'm posting it for free. Includes a line from a poem by Qabbani found in the book "Arabian Love Poems". http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/sea2sea/3131066/ An original poem written to the rhythm + melody of Bob Dylan's song "Don't Think Twice". Written in honor of a long-term friendship that ended recently. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/sea2sea/3130728/ Third in a sequence of three poems with the same title. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/sea2sea/3125645/ Second in a sequence of three poems with the same title. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/sea2sea/3125644/ First in a sequence of three poems with the same title. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/sea2sea/3125643/ In my youth, I used to sing as I walked / in public, hoping a man would hear me / and fall in love with my weakness. None did. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/sea2sea/3125188/ Pretty and dark-haired, fatherless and welfare-raised, my mother was just Gillian Black growing up, no more. Now she was marrying up, if only incrementally. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/sea2sea/3120896/ I'm fast asleep from dawn till dusk, so I weed at midnight, when no one is around. It's hard work, and I'm as green as the garden is, learning how to fletch my arrows as I go. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/sea2sea/3120451/ Listen now, do you hear our countless bombs whistling? They are our first and our ultimate music. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/sea2sea/3120064/ A poem about writer's block amid the rise of fascism in America. Published in ANMLY Magazine, Issue #41. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/sea2sea/2963560/ A poem about the climate crisis. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/sea2sea/2960643/ Hear now and see my thorax cave-whistle when I prise my ribs open, this tropical darkness enewing runt fuchsia viscera. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/sea2sea/2947711/ I climbed the magnificent staircase to the second floor, / my palm kissing the Edwardian oak of the balustrade, http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/sea2sea/2946024/ Of what use are prized turquoise or magenta blossoms? Passion don't mean much when the sparrows drop dead. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/sea2sea/2945970/ Richness followed, while the music lasted, and postbellum mansions were built on the dais of hills above the harbor. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/sea2sea/2945943/ A personal fiction poem about the heavy price of food in the US. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/sea2sea/2942251/ I.It’s midnight and the snow is falling, heavily,so I take a walk through my neighborhoodand marvel at the beauty around me.The trees are blanketed on every branch,the roofs of houses cloaked in ermine.I walk a little farther than I normally do,despite the burden of my heavy boots.Turns out, d.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/sea2sea/2919943/ A white wolf going in for the kill. An ambushing.Sharp features, buzzed hair. His skin like jade,his body rock-cut, tall muscles tensed like a violin’sfour strings. He makes them sing loudly as heworks himself up. His capillaries thrum with liquidlight. Coiled up like a Diamondback shaking its.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/sea2sea/2919833/ God works in mysterious ways---so they say (why?).As a backland dweller far from the ocean, nestledin the rolling sea-swells of these verdant troll-hillsso far inland as I am, I marvel at the bustling sea lifefound on the elsewhere coasts, scabrous starfishand amoebic jellyfish, skeletal red crabs a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/sea2sea/2919832/ My grandfather, who owned a rubber parts factoryand never let anyone sit in his prized easy chair,became very clumsy as he grew increasinglyelderly. Started losing his marbles one autumn.He went around dropping memories like fumbledloose change, losing a couple of those glass sphereseach day. He los.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/sea2sea/2919814/ Aday after the clocks have shifted backanhour, it is 5 p.m. and already dark out.Iam lying in bed reading three books at once,inalternation, trying to override my brokenattentionspan which cannot focus on anybookfor more than a chapter at a time.Remember todrink.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/sea2sea/2917723/ Vampires arrange moonlit picnics in the summer months, eating hearts on plates of silver http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/sea2sea/2912971/ A poem about remotely witnessing the horrors of the Gaza genocide through my screen, unable to affect the reality. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/sea2sea/2912320/ I am but a drop of water in the heaving wave, / that breaks upon the shore. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/sea2sea/2911763/ A poem about my childhood recollections of 9/11, and the overzealous response of the US to it. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/sea2sea/2910950/ an episode from my childhood. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/sea2sea/2910777/ A poem about Cold War anxieties. Homage to Allen Ginsberg's "Howl". Rated Mature for violent passages. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/sea2sea/2908969/ A poem about remotely witnessing the horrors of the Gaza genocide through my screen, unable to affect the reality. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/sea2sea/2908193/ ---after Margaret Atwood’s “Habitation”We lie on the soft couch, our legs twining like freckled eels,enmeshing in pearly needled grins of pelagic happiness.We sip our wine and listen to the radio whinny, spurs jinglingin the pueblo twilight, light spilling from canteen wi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/sea2sea/2907808/ When my father died at last, I did not attendthe funeral, having no broom to get there.In another state I ate my lunch and pretendedthe newborn white foals in my stomach werepillars of bluest granite for his sake. His wifeand her children, all loving and stupid, spoketheir lame honors over his coffi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/sea2sea/2907060/ They say that flowers are also songs,and the sun, and the ocean-blue skyon clear bright days. The chipmunkis a song, and the squirrel, and so thehare. The fox, also, and the bear, andthe wolf with his long speckled fur.The wolf's piercing amber eyes aresongs when the slick rabbit falls intohis sight.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/sea2sea/2906677/ So what were you doing when the Twin Towerscollapsed? I was sitting outside the principal'soffice, eight-and-a-half and waiting for a talking-to. Was sent back to class by a pensiveexpression. What was I in trouble for? Probablyfor rejoining some taunt with my fists. Yearspass and I re.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/sea2sea/2906483/ A dream sequence part autobiography, part fantasia. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/sea2sea/2906371/