Young Writers Society

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PerfectIf it weren't for you,I'd be perfect.If you weren't here,I'd have someone on my side.If I had never met you,Never said hi;I'd know what it was like,To love and be ...

To My Father A small boy, looking up sees his father smiling down and he knows that he is loved. For his heart is of golden affection and diamond love. ...

Better, but too personal. To the casual observer, many of your images don't connect. Not as charming a tactic as it seems. The seperate phrases and images were nice, they ...

running down cobbled streets, did you see the fading lanterns? knocked and broken in retreat, everyone shut their doors. pounding echoes of vibration, the oxygen was inhaled and all the ...

Kind of blew right by me... Very descriptive and had great imagery.

a tug of the tie, two fingers pulling cranberry-red silk loose, a habitual toss of your head making a fold of hair fall into your eyes open collar revealing soft ...

The Mirror What do I see in this mirror? In this mirror all cracked and dingy? I see a memory, a tiny memory, and what I saw so many years ...

pendulums of emotion swing above mahogany fireplaces with chimneys to let the steam out and firewood to keep the cauldron boiling; I've pulled out too many petals over you. drowning ...

I liked the last two stanzas. Nice poem.

when you finally see the words they mean, maybe you'll learn to fit in the box they made. and when you go along with the lines they said thinking too ...

sweet tea, arnold palmers sipping slipping southern style the banyan trees waving goodbye in the sweet breeze to the goodbye girl tanning rub, pink chablis is all that she left ...

inspired by a poem of Jack's that was up a while back, fall out girl, I think was the name and an episode of Coupling - the genious show that ...

A single ray of hope shines, an alabaster beam, copper chords of sunlight bathed in crimson rays of steam misty essences of sound tuned once upon a dream turns my ...

floating crimson lights burning angrily in the black, emitting tell tale wisps of swirling smoke that curl towards the sky, and finding the path blocked by crude cement, hang apathetically ...