Young Writers Society

It's funny because when we met, we thought we were different You with your black trench coat and slicked-back hair And me with my dumpy brown hand-me-down sweater holy in ...

He walks on the dusty sand Eyes darting beneath his night-vision glasses As a grimy boot steps softly into the doorway A child cries lying in the corner curled up ...

This is way off my usual scheme of things and I feel totally wrong posting it, but I wrote it on the spur of the moment and thought I could ...

I hold in my hands a tiny house, With tiny people and a tiny mouse. A cat, a dog, and a leaping frog all nestled about the tiny house. I ...

Nomad I. Wayward Cycles The sun outlasts the sunny days, to scorch the winter grass And the grass falls like shadows down the slope When youthful charioteers return to the ...

Standing so tall A body my own It seemed as if no one could phase me So I showed you my eyes The secrets held inside My heart was yours ...

Mother is downstairs, Hesitant fingers asking The concertina to sing In the dimly lit kitchen. It speaks slowly, new life Taken into her arms Long-barren of child. Their growth intertwines. ...

delete. i didnt plagiarize.

This is the first piece I'm posting on this site..I hope it's well recieved. (: Dragons and dinosaurs and witches and ogers, trying to find dinner from a diner called ...

[pre]Devastated heart, lost in pain: Warmed and awoken once again. Smiles and laughter coincide, She loved him back, hard to hide. The more about him she did learn, More of ...

I Held Time in my Hand I held time in my hand and would not let it go. My cold hands imprisoned the golden force. I felt its pleading call ...

Feet. One, two, three. Each one different, Encrusted with dirt, the skin is leather. He takes them with his hands, dips them in the basin, one by one, rubs the ...

guess what? It’s three in the AM (in the morning), dear and all the world is dead but I’ve got nothing more than our conversations half-running through my head. I ...

Indeed, too long. I'm out of practice, I'm afraid, so apologies for the many problems you'll probably find with this one. [pre]LEAVING HOME This is where the cordon ends: the ...

He is the man in front Who bears the brunt, Of what is out there, A war of two men in disrepair. Of the drone of guns, The battle of ...