Young Writers Society

Seems like just about every other day she's breaking down nowhere to be found pushed up against the wall slowly losing it all she wonder's what else is there left ...

I know it doesnt flow very well, it isnt meant to. But I would love you to critique any other aspect of this poem! Thanks!! **************************************** “One cut” you said, ...

Outside the home, leaves blew with great haste. Knowing with winter coming, there wasn't time to waste. Rain fiercely howled, and leaves painstakingly shook. The animals sat and watched inside ...

Happy times are times when you cut school early to get a frosty, then get lost on your way to Wendy's. But you do not care 'cause the radio is ...

A soilder life is not his own, but his countries. His home is the battlefield, his shelter is his gun, His future dismanteled, his deeds undone. He has no weakness, ...

Lovers Bread Basket Two secret lovers went down the winding street, And into the town when who did they meet? The boy’s dotting mother bread basket in hand, Who had ...

She was so full of sun, and happiness, and love. So carefree. She was only seven And she wore her star. To her it was an emblem of power. Until ...

Rain falling, Dreams revealed, Power becoming known, Everything happens at dawn. Don't run from your loved one, It would break their heart. Moving closer to the person on the other ...

I think your poem is good but it could use some help. Some of the lines do not rhyme and some do not make since. The line with the boy ...

The Girl He watches her sleep. The moonlight, shining on her perfect skin. The spread of dark hair over the pillow case. The shadows her eyelashes cast over her face. ...

[center][/center] THE DEEDS OF LOVE ARE JUST BUT THIS OF WHICH IS LOVE. Current mood: pessimistic Category: Writing and Poetry THE DEEDS OF LOVE ARE JUST BUT THIS OF WHICH ...

The adrenaline unfolds into the last act of defiance On a the hollow wounded field, where venture capitalists applaud each hit, Seeing only platonic tackles and the wondrous parabolas of ...

The old man remembers The times of his fathers When he was a marine He thinks to himself quite frankly Of the tanks and war machines How they killed all ...

To Me, On November 9 2003 maybe it was Fate with her indelicate fingers crawling through my red thanksgiving sweatshirt or maybe it was the Fear that flooded or the ...