Siddartha Beth Pierce > Writing | WritersCafe.org

Themorning mist drifts slowly into my consciousness awake, aware I do not dare question what it is doing there yet do delight in the freshness of..

The trees speak in whistles and windchimes of twigs and leaves among the breeze this late Saturday evening. I was taught Botany can tell by th..

Within these meditative stone walls some magic has passed since we spoke last and I must pass this story on. A white wolf came immediately to m..

Pods of luck from my caribbean romp and then again another from the Frenchie in NYC where I wrote upon the wall: 'Tu es moi demain' and begged f..

Swirling leaves mark the scene of that which was left between us- A sad goodbye with tears in eyes to say our final adieu. Now the snow has se..

A true story...

Why did you go astray left me here in this wake to place her in the grave all alone forsaken by you at the moments peak when I needed someone ne..

A true delight you have become my one and only loving son the years have passed so quickly I nearly did not see From infant to young adulthood yo..

These wondrous dreams cry out scenes that weave wonderful stories I know consciously could play across the pages in terrific memories of the nig..

The smoke fills my lungs with sweet tar and nicotine the damage so far unseen- A terrible addiction, yes I have been put to the test to place the..