Young Writers Society

R.E.M. Spinning nightmares have never been gashed by sunlight, because I cannot catch. My father has never taught me, and each young man likes my tongue and nothing more. Oh, ...

THE THEOLOGY OF SLEEP It seems like we were always asleep, love, and in our bed the ages passed us by; perhaps I was God and you were Mary and ...

Just so you all know, I haven't written any free verse before so please be nice. Also I realise the rhythm is a little off, I will try and work ...

‘Tis said that at the zenith of our clashing love we see things as they truly are, untouched by the feral nature of the human heart, sweet seconds pass and ...

i am alive

The song composed by the watermelon pips that rained upon the sopping dirt was a lie. And it lay all night. Before you could reach it your leg gave way ...

dear Robdawg, I write this drunk, very profoundly (probably), but not stoned because I have quit that for fear that I would end up doing anything else and not knowing ...

I was inspired to write this after reading Wallace Steven's "Thirteen Ways to See a Blackbird." I. His eyes were fixed on dark, flat rooftops and the birds that moved ...

A bowl of soup in the summer, completely lukewarm, smiles sickly up at me, and I swish away old reflections of you: they've grown into the bottom of my bowls ...

Small Brown House on Triangle junction What business have you here? Big Black door on Front of Brown House What secrets do you obscure? Trimmed, short willows Arms held in ...

The reaper has already tried to steal my soul, Once during my birth, I was a miracle baby. Then it tried again and almost succeeded When I was four, I ...

Hey all, sorry to repost this one so quickly, I'm thinking of entering it into a poetry competition and would appreciate any comments that you can offer. It's been redone ...

"well-past noon" - I may be wrong but I feel as if that hyphen is not necessary. "& daygrogged spittleslobbed & wistful" - as a matter of personal pickiness I ...

It all started with heart ache who knew it would come to thisA sad day... a sad awakeningNext was the misery the deep depressionShe was lost, and could not be ...

( here is a poem i made at school it is a bit rubbish but it is rather amusing it was made a long time ago) To all the people ...