Young Writers Society

Chocolate Stand

Come, come!
Buy me, buy me!
Come and buy me!
I am tasty, ain't no dusty
my box so pink, my ribbons silk
Come, come
buy me, buy me!

Searching for secrets
and answers to my questions,
while sifting through the shadows
that keep them;
A never ending story.

Good Lord!
This thread's gone on for long!
I'd assumed it would vanish,
like Oreo at home.
Or by Hooke's law of elasticity
It would snap/tear/break -
at least it would have to thin out
like the dough I rolled for cake.
Well gladly the thread's been Duke free
hope my awkward presence doesn't kill the talent I see.

Glass beads on a silver chain
draped along
a broken piano.
It plays its own haunting song
with infinitive tears
and these hands of old
hand-me-down souls.
A place in which glad stories are told
no more.

Why I continue rhyming my words
like a nursery rhyme;
Is a question I can't answer to,
a fault I can't I deny.

Yet, it's how I've learned to work -
God Bless me with talent
The sooner,
The better
.....I'll end my awkward monologue
now
here.

A wise man once said
the sun was once red
and they believed him.

Many years after that
another claimed earth
was round and not flat
and because of common belief
he was deemed wrong.

For they looked at the ground
and saw it as level.

So now I say
what is proof now to you?

I only came here because
Al is really good at hiding
Easter eggs and I must
find them all.

He is a sneaky bastard.

Mosquito net billows
The sound of weeping willows
The reason for the run
and the running eyes
The Whispers in the dark
and the dark ties.

If a man cannot live
until he has died,
and a man cannot die
until he has lived
then the immortal must surely be dead.

Here is a short poem completely random and made up on the spot

I watch her white and flowing dress,
Glide above the purple more.
She does not smile, she will not smile,
Her eyes will shake you to your core.

I see her now, I saw her then,
The girl, the ghost, the dream, the end.
A hollow heart and deep black eyes,
Limp and stiff, her chalk neck bent.

That girl of grace, now girl of ruins
I remember what the people said:
"The girl of gold, now girl of mold,
Her lover laughs while she lays for dead..."

Regrets claw at my memories,
leaving transparent scars
to be felt,
not seen.

(addition - I DIDN'T PLAN TO WRITE, I WANTED TO READ D: xD)

It's funny how you think
I can't hear it when you whisper
behind my back.

I hate to judge.
I find it weighs on the world like a heavy
suffocating cloak
though you don't seem to mind it
do you?

Still
it's funny how you think
that you know me.

I've heard you use the word harmless before
in reference to me, or I suppose
who you think I am.
Go ahead
walk the path that's brought me here
the whole thing
I dare you.

In the end
I fear I'll still be carrying you
to the end of yours,
because it's not your fault really
looks are misleading
trust me
I would know.

For I have crossed
many a mask of my own
on my way to myself.

I refused to conform;
Refused to be taken in.
But my will was torn,
it being only paper thin.

So now, I write;
I must keep going.
I give up the fight,
and here is my poem.

Infant heartbeat eyelash flutters:
fast and necessary, intoxicated.
Propped up on sticks love is like a wedding veil
you can never see beneath until
you have shot roots into his grave.

When the baby comes
how fast the blinks?

(aww yayyy this thread has returned)