Young Writers Society

Freely Falling Object Falling straight into my head Means I've spent too much time with physics And it's time to go to bed. Dedicated to my sister.

learning to breathe takes some of us a long, long time while others never learn at all. for it takes talent to find oxygen in an air-starved world; courage to ...

Soft and gentle snow And bitterly gelid ice- Winter's sensations. Haiku : three unrhymed lines of 5, 7, and 5 syllables, respectively. Haiku posted previously (by myself) in this forum: ...

I am Happy Scared Loved up Surprised Not really here Wishing I was somewhere else or wishing someone else was here Probably like she once did Want and need and ...

Waistland There in that dry desert, that flat expanse of thirst and want, live the empty people. They have no nourishment in human food, they drink little, laugh less, their ...

I wrote this for a friend. Acasia Sink the mountains, sweep the sky Dragons of the trumpet fly They descend with violet throne And all around their flames are shone ...

Another joined us as we rode He was a Bard, or so he showed With easy words and nimble wit, Of which he claimed he never writ, But made upon ...

A family is a Church With wounded steeples That reach towards Luminous rooms. Hopes for mentioned Mansions lingering, Imposed on linen sighs. Limping congregations Swaying in prayer Falling onto other

(revised) this rotting place will turn to black soon. the sun has bled its way to sleep behind the jagged edges of the burnt out houses. there are union jack ...

bluemurder bluemurder you'd never ever guess that the color of the sky is the same as that of murder not you, nor you, not I she never saw his many ...

Imprint An imprint of pessimism solemnly etched on void flowing from sullen iris creating impervious emotions. lying stretched near crumbled where the lynch tightens breath forever stealing vitality r

I loved how you went from like (for lack of better terms), pleasant to detestful and then back to pleasant...I think that's a really interesting pattern. The empty sockets part ...

Sweet and somber they will whisper To you in the dark of night The empty and cold, eerie whisper That shakes your synapses alight Creeping, seeping – much like liquid ...

She always liked drinking cold coffee The Saturday mornings all faded into each other And formed a black-brown blur of fantasies Her fiction lifestyle slipping past her eyes The tongue-setting ...

When you close your eyes, On a world of hate, pain and fear, You’ll enter a silent place, Where I’ll be waiting. The world we live in, Full of earthly ...