Young Writers Society

You handed me a cracked beer bottle, caked in dirt, and ran course fingers through your hair. Everything about you has been rough lately, like sandpaper, like your half-bitten nails ...

I enjoyed reading this, it was really well-done, the only part that I would maybe change is: I know you live in the middle of nowhere because I turned my ...

I sit and wonder at the purpose in the movement of this dance, lining the floor plan of our lives with faded footprints in the sand. God, wouldn’t it be ...

Since first grade, I have bullied about looks. And also, for my passion of books. Reading anything I see, Writing anything that pops into my head. Along with my silliest ...

They say that heroes never cry. They couldn't be more wrong. I've seen tears cascade down your pallid face for everyone but you. After the foulest words vanished from the ...

A path is laid before my feet. I must journey; trust this dusty queue. Good-bye friends. I will now be nothing but a name. I will squint, be sun-blinded. The ...

I. I sit hopelessly in my prized folding chair. The sun brings out my freckles and the dry grass crinkles between my sandaled toes. We all ponder the wiles of ...

I carried a garter snake through the whitewashed town: it would hiss and flick its thin forked tongue through scaled lips to seduce me. “Don’t worry yourself; he cannot bite.” ...

This poem is lovely and melancholy. I love the feel of it, the simple yet beautiful language. This is wonderful: In the shut dark of my eyes, I am the ...

In Winnebago land, There ruled a skeleton king With his fleshy, pretty queen. And in the night When the lights were gone, They'd go into their Winnebago And preform unspeakable ...

Sunlight coats the icicles that cling to our gutters. I sigh, knowing they won’t disappear for another six weeks, probably more. The kids across the street learn that, when making ...

The cold kiss of a blade, The sharpened edge descending His life, my love, is ending It’s too late for love my dear. Sorrows stream down my face, Endlessly descending, ...

War is the systematic slaughter of the innocent,.....tied and bound under what is considered......sometimes as mass genocide,......politicians wage wars, so do......tyrants command armies to wars cour

Dark matter clouds the synapses that once allowed you to love me. I used to sit on the rim of your glasses as we drank constellation wine, connecting dots in ...

A sunset, gold and blue A purple-silk wrapped debut Tracks across the western sky God in nature glorified The ocean waves crest and wash Against a line that's never crossed ...