Young Writers Society

we drifted to nuances -- awoken in the moonlight, shades of corporeal in skeleton words; our minds gently electric - sparkled like ghosts, glazed with tangibility. we existed as one, ...

Slick Jimmy is SUCH a tool. -Slick Jimmy He's one of the crowd and speaks up aloud of things he may not understand. He's a tool of sorts but just ...

Note to all readers and critics! This poem is broken into the three parts. I rearranged the parts to place it in the way I wanted it to be read ...

“An Impending Fate” In three hundred years When trivial seem these fears Of global warming And a church reforming. When democracy falls And fire lines the halls. When the Monarch ...

My Blue Crayon committed suicide An ocean away from lonliness, I share in the plight of failure; I use my blue crayon to speak of solitude.

The blissfulness Of listlessness Lying in a sweet summer blanket Wrapped in heat and swarms Of honeyed sunbeams Requisites of helium Exploding infinitely Consuming endlessly Yearning slightly for Less

Removed due to publication.

It is perhaps an inexplicable passion for self-improvement... that we possess. So give me your revolutionary writers with their lives cut too short Who serve to excite the immovable And ...

I don't do poetry - I've tried in the past, and failed. I just seem to have lots of trouble doing it (and have lots of respect for those who ...

The world must be different, for those who can do the splits. Spread their legs around the world. In Tokyo, I see a foot. In Canada, I see an eye. ...

Is It Real? Tied: To be bound. I can't escape emotions. They haunt me. They stalk me. They watch me. But it isn't as if they're living in my dreams. ...

Little did she know, She had a friend in me. Little did I know, That- she could see.

I wrote this when I was still 12... So when I was 12 I believed that stanzas had to be certian amount of lines, adn this was during the time ...

None of it makes sense anymore. When cons start outweighing pros, and hope becomes a screaming infant tied to a stick and beaten repeatedly against the concrete sidewalk, and every ...

There once was a tissue named Bradley Who could only do things quite sadly. He snuffled and moaned And bickered and groaned And got thrown away quite gladly.