Young Writers Society

This is my first piece posted here, so I'm nervous to post this. But, here it goes: Romance Bubble bath Pink bubbles Blue soap Light a candle Shine a rose ...

An Ode To Squirrels Wunce I warse a-walking Down a cleanly path I sawr a little squirrel Larffing at me laffs. He warse a kindly fellow A nicely little gent ...

Clouds are dusty, not cold, not warm. Appearing at night, shivering, stuttering, spreading their red. Once clouds were settled, once clouds stood still. Today they are clever, for what spreads ...

These rhymed: You gave me a snowglobe, said "watch the snow"; I held it close, but I once let it go. So I let it fall slowly, let it tumble ...

Take me home Mother, take me home. Take me home to the land I was born to the land I call hom Take me home. Father, take me home. Take ...

Well, this started out as a poem for the poetry contest for the 'Grande Re-Opening!', but when it was finished, I noticed I was some 56 lines over the limit! ...

Tinder and ash. On top of shoes, it slides and whisks off into the corridor-darkness. Fallen masters march these labyrinth halls, hands pocketed, hollow mirth. Outside the window, we all ...

If you could sprout wingsAnd fly away,As free as a bird,Over the mountains,Would you?If you could soar over a lake,Up to the trees,Dance with the clouds,Would you?If you could laugh ...

So what if words were art and we could paint a masterpiece over this falling sky, trying to hold it up with fortifications and architecture and all the pointless beauty ...

Always aloneAlways in darknessNever awakeYet never asleepI feel like I'm fallingThrough both Ice and Fire.*No one knows what I'm going through,Because no one knows how I feel.Will someone wake me ...

K - Screw everything you know about reading a real "poem" and try reading the words for what they are.. because this is more of a.. Freestyle? Yepp. Written by ...

Loved the ending, (laughed a bit at the title). When did darkness become salvation from the light? absused from overuse, I fearWhen did we all throw our hands up and ...

Get off my fucking couch. Pretentious, legs rent open and lips so bloated that you sound dumb, you are dumb. It seems to burn and bubble where you stroke my ...

what am I doing? I speak as though you’ll understand the drips and eddies, tides of lunar gold across the shore. This is my mind (not that it's always so ...

yeah, yeah, i know. The nail marks never started at the top - no, we were always halfway when we realized we were falling down, down with nothing to leave ...