Young Writers Society

6-22-05 (First day of summer) The night sank with a fast, speedy train cycle and his mind didn’t know itself anymore, it was good, it was Eden, beneath a moon ...

its funny how we create such magnetism when we are standing still electronical pulses beating to the rhythm of a plug socket and dancing to airwaves and our memory is ...

Dad If you weren't here for me I wouldn't know I was pretty Or smart Or a good girl Dad, If it wasn't for you I wouldn't be the girl ...

anything to feel something has clouded my mind it's as if i'm not there just a spiritless body it's like a dream where everything seems like reality my eyes are ...

You think your all that, You think your a star, But when it comes to reality, Thats not what you are. You laugh like a hyhena, You look like a ...

If you read my blog, you'll kind of get what this is. Damn I hate long distance relationships sometimes. One more night of twitching anticipation, Telling myself that tonight (for ...

Hey...I'm new here. But I thought I'd give this a try and see what people thought. I think this might count as dramatic poetry but...ummm. Anyway here it is: Urge ...

i was reading oscar wilde on the bus. i got off at the station amidst conventional stares of sunscreen, water bottles and ponytails. i didn't care. i opened oscar wilde ...

You're right. Angsty poetry does get annoying after the zillionth suicide poem.

(First poem written in over 3 years. Took less than 10 minutes. No rewriting yet. Please help.) Breath in my ear On the back of my neck Slow, steady, rhythmic ...

NOTE: This poem is sort of just about those who comitted suicide and veterans. But I can't decide on a title. I asked God to start the world over just ...

Sometimes it’s hard just to look at you So if I smile quirkily, and I seem almost giddy it’s not the white-caramel cappuccino talking although that is what I’ll blame ...

I wish that I could look into your mind, Just so I can see how many times I cross it, Before you came along I had one, But I met ...

NOTE: this poem sucks...i know. but a friend of my friend's hung himself in his back yard and i wrote this for him. strong critquing is needed...i would really love ...

you cup your hands when Mysteries rain down. let's play detective before they run away slipping through your fingers and giving way to gravity falling upon a cracked and chipped ...