Young Writers Society

Brad, What a heap of tripe. Trying to be experimental, by studying a dictionary isn't art. Words of advise- learn how to write meaningful poetry, poetry that everyone can appreciate. ...

She's the last moment of a short pencil, Wasted on paper till disintegration. She's the last call when I ain't even numb yet. She's creeping flames up my legs, When ...

Butterflies Thousand of butterflies swirl like a milkmaid churning butter. Up. Down. Ceaseless whirling. Devouring my heart- tickling it with their antennae. Crash. Boom. Bang. Goodbye butterflies.

Time Your time is not my time, but my time is Yours. What is eternity? Is it a hallowed-out turtle shell, completely void of straight edges? Is it a (vibrant) ...

Here's another short, repetitive poem. I actually am beginning to like this style of poetry, now the key is to not overuse it. (Main task now is to figure out ...

To suffer is To feel what You have no wish to feel To want to sink forever Into a dark oblivion... To die slowly, Painfully Knowing no one cares Knowing ...

I look into the light, Its shine is too bright! It's unsettling and painful. My eyes are stinging so bad. I try to turn my head, but it's too addicting. ...

I was dragged away with many others to be Tortured Murdered Exterminated Still they deny it happened. I can still remeber being packed up with others like an animal in ...

I searched for the holy father, The mighty divinity; I found my God in a mirror, He was smiling back at me. I looked for the deepest of truths, For ...

Today the sixth of March, the rushing Tiber staggers ‘cross the rocky mountain groves and moves towards the somber valley of Casentino. Artistic talent wielded in his hand, he wrought ...

I enjoyed it, though I'm trying to pick out its incest...I see it, slightly, but barely. Though, I struggle to understand things like this. What struck me the most was ...

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Soaring sky high, Blood-tipped wings flying away to escape it all. Before your poison arrows struck me down, Spiraling into my love for you. Now I'm drowning in your endless ...

You walk in on me where I've bled all over your kitchen floor. It's watery, dripping over all the sugars that I've been measuring and weighing for the past forty ...

Recycled Sand Watching eyes for them to run at pre-second flash Only to chase them down And apologize to the beachgoer spontaneously chosen as photographer Sand under their feet giving ...