Young Writers Society

Hey I posted the prologue a while back and got lots of mixed reveiws becuase it was confusing I've done some editing and I've written the frist (or so) chapter. ...

You see the thing is, I only knew the man fourteenyears of my life. Sure he lost his place in my heart every nowand again.But the dilemma in the situationis ...

"I really wanted you to know that i think you're one of the prettiest girls in school, and I wanted to know if you'd go to Prom with me?" Cara ...

-I'm not sure what the rating should be-I walked down the road, as I dragged my suitcase behind me and held my Nokia 3310, probably the oldest model ever made. ...

DeathDeath comes night and day.Someone dies every day.Death isn't here to play.Death. . . is here to stay.

Whispers, lips gently brushing earsPerhaps a song, if it isn’t too muchOf a cliché.Pulling close, intertwining fingersA hand clinging to soft, thick hair, thenAn intense look.Squashing noses into f

I’m like the ghost that’s never beenNobody looks up when I walk in I’ve left my mark on none that seeI don’t think they’ll remember me In hallways at my ...

Once I stood in my human bindsWatched over by Artemis.Never cleaner or purer In the eyes of the gods.I strode through life like a flameEndless icon of desireUntil my fire ...

Again I visit the sacred place I have created Led to by my circumstantial beingWith the scenario, as always, playing out In its routine, which itself has fallen into the ...

I know it's a bit rough around the edges, so any help would be appreiciated~Peeling Dreams~Lazy summer hazeinfects the pathways and alleys of this towna yearly disease, and our cue ...

Oh, lament, for we are haplessAnd made to repeat.You have a waxwork daughter,Come and make her sit before the fireWatch if it will make her grow dewyOr bendAnd settle back ...

(*There are periods between stanzas because I couldn't figure out any other way to separate them without the website automatically making it one huge poem.)."White Epiphany".All is quiet in the ...

Here's my first poem to be submitted here. I wrote it for English. The criteria was to write a poem about death and dying. Hope you guys enjoy and and ...

Oranges, lots of oranges! Mya smelled the tropical fruit. She always went to the Brazillian Market on Sunday when the fruit was ripe and fresh. As always, she lingered on ...

She saw him every day as she walked to work. It was as if he never moved, though she knew it wasn't true. He had to have gotten the cardboard ...