Young Writers Society

War is the systematic slaughter of the innocent,.....tied and bound under what is considered......sometimes as mass genocide,......politicians wage wars, so do......tyrants command armies to wars cour

Your hands the most. Small and very brown. The rings - too heavy for those little fingers - but so pretty! Turquoise and gold from Spain. And one diamond, large. ...

This is a peom that I thought had a catchy rythm so I decided to post it. It does tell a story and I do use some sybolism in here. ...

Have you seen my love? My heart? It ran away from home last year. Perhaps you’ve glimpsed it from the highway, trying to hitchhike a ride to California, or maybe ...

Dark matter clouds the synapses that once allowed you to love me. I used to sit on the rim of your glasses as we drank constellation wine, connecting dots in ...

Can I live without your love? No. With your absence you split my heart in two, I feel the congregation's eyes upon me, Tears burn my eyes. Their pity burns ...

I hope the repitition wasn't too overused. I wanted to make it rhyme, thus it could have been one of the types of poems I was studying about *Forgets* but ...

Campfire that burns, a sign of hope. Allowing us to see, to feel from the heart. The light that glows, giving all peace. A sense of kindness, a feeling for ...

looking heavenward with gravity moonlight tastes our wind-chapped faces, upturned, triggering the shivers that had been fused to our spines since God first bled rain onto steaming, skull-splintered as

As I walk, I bury my soul in time capsules, shoring up against the dreaded want. Someday, preserves will save our lives, and when that comes they’ll all be sorry ...

1/22/07 -- Imp tried poetry...thoughts all welcome -- Words on a summer-night I really don't recall; you see, dusk was coming quickly and Autumn whispered palls. Pallid days sans sunlit ...

You shouldn't have called. I can make it without you. I don't need you. I don't want you. You're a crutch; That helpful third wheel. But I can ride on ...

Open your eyes. No wait, I take it back. Open your ears. Wind rushing, Dogs barking, People singing. And talking, always talking. Which is why it’s good To open your ...

A sunset, gold and blue A purple-silk wrapped debut Tracks across the western sky God in nature glorified The ocean waves crest and wash Against a line that's never crossed ...

Metal fork, sick yellow. Scrambled eggs sprinkled with salt, the critique at the tip of your tongue. The topic is so direct that you are hidden behind your wall of ...