http://slow.writerscafe.org/YahyaOA The original writings of author Yahya Oulad Aouid en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775943367 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 My amber eyes behold every shade and colorRed is my saturnian moon; livid yet swoon-By a silhouette that’s velvet-sewn, by the mornof her fifth June-As she hauls a frail calf wailing the glitterof the crystal fangs that hewn. My father I never saw, my mother went t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/YahyaOA/2955138/               It is pastmidnight. He is situated on his sofa watching TV with a lighted cigarette inhis mouth. The room is empty, the streets are devoid of life, a hauntingsilence engulfs the place and all he could hear are the subtle exhales of hissmoke. H.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/YahyaOA/2948550/ THESE BITTER DAYS I PASSFLIES SCATTERED AFLOAT A STINKING CORPSE,THE DAYS BEHIND I MOURNTHE DAYS AHEAD I AVOID,YOUR VOICE IS PLAGUING MEMY MIND SUNK IN REMORSE,I DO IT FOR YOU MOTHERI ROAM AND STING, I BURN AND PRAY FOR REPOSE,TIME IS MY FOEAND JUSTICE IS MY CHOICE. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/YahyaOA/2948122/ Truth isclandestine;as with everythingthat's fine.Cast away a dime,then axe your wayto your mine.Where the word ofGod is plainly covered,yet shines.Pick up your axe,  pick up your mind.Run forth to theshade of old times,then climb.Cast away a d.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/YahyaOA/2940268/ INCINERATED TO A PULP;SEEDS MADE UNTO VESSELS.BEHOLD THE SCENT OF MUDDY RAINS,WHEN THE FLORAS WHISPER AND INCARNATE.WHAT WAS SOWN ONCE IS MADE TWICE;ONE LEAF SHALL BE MADE TWOFOR THE BIRCH TO GROW THRICE.A PASSENGER DISMOUNTS THE TRAIN INHASTE, THEN SOARSABOVE MEDOWS OF DREAD, TO REST ATOP AN INFANT.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/YahyaOA/2937921/ An infant once, then time takes its toll.    Man's precarious destiny is one that he holds in hishands; that is, if the tide goes his way and allows him to mount the waves ofease till he reaches his adorned destination. Yet, man cannot break loose fromthe chains of his very own e.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/YahyaOA/2936515/ I run bear soiled, I set the flock apartI touch the nerve of still waters to summonThe pale fallen leaves of autumn’s heart,The flying moths flicker sprouts of lucid lightOwls in reveries, brawling in hazy tranceAs I catch an orb of light running from transitfright,Pr.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/YahyaOA/2930155/ Thunderous is her rage; mother to my life and yoursThe ancient spark lights up the dome with beamsbrighter than Saqqara’s catacombs,He is born, he is born!!The birds have groaned yet a heavens’ breath is thehand nesting the bird,Merriment is my home for the light.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/YahyaOA/2929136/ Lying after a restless dayStorms of reveries sway me from my clay,Hours passed in endless trivial thoughtsHaunting ponderings in which I am caught,Clinging dearly to the agony of my soulI pray the autumn wind scraps my fall,A sillouhete seeps in into the shoreCold breeze .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/YahyaOA/2928812/ Into the night, angels fallObscure is the human mind,For in the night, I stand tallEyes wide shut for an inner voice to speak,Echoes of silence bouncing of a wallAs I sink into an abyss, hollow and bleak.Standing sole on a forested bankA river so deep, a sound so mee.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/YahyaOA/2928811/ God spoke his light unto us, commanding us to impart it for it doesn't belong to man. Yet the light quickly fades before it can ever be imparted. Wherever there is light, darkness awaits in preparation, and man causes his damnation as is eternally written in the Abrahamic scrolls. The sombreness of .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/YahyaOA/2927190/ Nightly questions swaying me from my clayA universe so vast that one must dismay,Lightening struck and a being was madeA being to be and become what it may,A monstrous tide running for everything to swayA fascinating facade that sinks the day away,For you you man learnt to preach and sayTo you, man .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/YahyaOA/2927182/ Lethargic I awoke from my bed of thornsA mirage before me, night with light adorned,The night sinks the light, yet the sun shall aroseTo those whose skull burns without a soul in repose,Before a meadow we stood, under the nesting homesI rest my case and unravel my woes for the wi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/YahyaOA/2926750/       He has been a vagabond for more than twoyears, if there is anyone who knows the depths of the night, it is him. He is anocturnal being for what could he manage to do during daylight? When ordinarypeople are up to seek a crumb of bread, he confines himself in his .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/YahyaOA/2926641/ Clayturned concrete for the dirt to softenAndthe walls are high but the tide is infinite,Awinter so long and the soul is lurkingAndthe sun is boiling the preacher’s church,Mongersof the soul, the shameless vulturesIrolled up my sleeves for the fence to rise,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/YahyaOA/2926203/ It is long past midnight. He is situated on his sofawatching TV with a lighted cigarette in his mouth. The room is empty, thestreets are devoid of life, a haunting silence engulfs the place and all hecould hear are the subtle exhales of his smoke. His black cat suddenly leapsonto his lap cau.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/YahyaOA/2926081/ Startled by a sudden whiff of cold breeze, he backs upfrom his window shutting it off. He walks back to his room and fetches one ofhis thick winter gowns, wears it on top of his sweatshirt, and throws a scarfmade of fine sicillian linen around his neck. He searches his sidepockets andfinds h.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/YahyaOA/2926080/ Lightening struck the timeless primordial tree,From his stardust I emerged, and onto dust we turn,Born out of a color, tuned onto a seed,Behold the grace of his delicate brush,The palette is his, for you and I are heaven's deed,Your crude conceit dims the radiance of the beam,When your pride stains .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/YahyaOA/2924753/ You only live twice so it seems,Once for yourself and once in your dreams.Once in virtue or by dishonest means,For man is crude to the air he breathes,When the ego denies the soul that feeds,The body remains yet the essence flees,Virtuous are those that see beyond seas.&n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/YahyaOA/2924752/ He is twenty-seven years old, a graduate of business management who works in the businessdistrict downtown. He has been enjoying his last couple of weeks for it is holiday, yet he hasnowhere to go, he spends most of his time in his apartment reading literature, playing chessonline, and painting. He .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/YahyaOA/2924643/ In the horizon, he slyly lurks and schemesSizing his prey from the all-mountainous summit,A hermit of the mountain, antique are his meansYet Hermes looked above with grace, and with clemencyunderneath,For above is the high court of the one truthsayerWho said that man shall .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/YahyaOA/2924523/