Young Writers Society

Sadness utterly my own Only I understand it But it’s possible even I don’t understand it Sadness without a name Alone in its shadowed mystery A Great Wall of misery ...

I wanted to try free verse...I haven't done it in a while. Kind of a random emo-ish poem but...I hope you like it! No matter how many times I lick ...

*temporarily removed*

Those two words have forever altered their meaning for me. Christmas is a time for family, peace, hope, love; Isn't it? A time of joy and a time of merry ...

If there was time-traveling, this is it fingers lingering over embossed letters on cheap hallmark cards -- Christmas has come, rejoice! And in the corner scrawled out by an arthritic ...

I love you all to death Let death not be the end, Every lasting connection For everyone to tend. A single seed creates A life that'll carry through, Te memories ...

Never say goodbye to me, I promise to see you soon, Why do you hold such fear in your eyes? Why do I see you cry? This time, place nor ...

Ah, I really enjoyed reading this Brad. Unlike some of your more abstract pieces, lol, this is great. Imagery was awesome and it flowed extremely well. Just enjoyable really. Have ...

We can not fight more than we fought today, It can not hurt more than it has hurt today, My heart has bled for you, My sole has wept for ...

Whoa. I'll be honest. Usually I read your poetry, just out of curiosity, and then I pass it up without a review. I mean, really, who am I to critique ...

Can you see me I hide behind a layer of pain and untruths, I seek to let go but as I do I learn the world is cold and cruel, ...

We are the real: behind this chain-linked fence whose clasping fingers bar our way and sharpened razor wire cuts the observant sky ethereal. These yellow, tarnished walls still glimmer, wet ...

all we say comes out as speak-easy whispers, simple as breathing into the spaces between us. now that I know that I’m in love with him, his hands cover my ...

David’s Lament The soldiers massacred, leaders have fallen, Do not speak about our loss, Do not make the foe rejoice. May Gilboa’s land be always wasted, For good soldiers have ...

Thinking; unending stasis, a living death self perpetuating in the darkness Periods of activity, interspersed by static pulses: there’s an absence of feeling. images perceived and not understood fli