Young Writers Society

As the title suggests, after reading Incan's "how to" on writing poetry I got inspired to write this (well, not really, just some of the imagery he used in the ...

The sunlight keeps intricate time on the iron facade of tinfoil cans, chrome vessels that find themselves crushed together, God's impending fist of fire and ashen rock brandishing fingers that ...

If I could touch the stars, oh would your hand be mine? If I can not touch them, you are lost forever. If I could do what's right, Would you ...

**sits down and stares for a minute or two** **gets up, walks around the poem(?) a few times and sits down again** No, I still cant decide if I like ...

Hurricane Winds blow cars roll trees fall Cows fly Windows shatter buildings crumble hearts break Children cry Waters rise bridges sway lives collapse People die

Hey, I like writing a lot, but I'm pretty new to poetry. This one of my poems, and it sucks, but I'm not sure what to do with it next. ...

The sound of your laughter Fills my soul with light Changing earth to heaven An Angel entered my life The dancing shadows of your dreams Twinkle brightly in your eyes ...

A Battling Plane There is a depth in souls, A dark chasm of emptiness and shame, An abyss of sorrow, As it grows, life seems unimpervious to its pull. There ...

Vamp child,Dark child,Who shall kneel before ye? All those,Who wish,To keep their blood from me.Go now,And find,Me food for I hunger,I wish,To hunt,By the storm of thunder. As she,said that,Outside ...

Her words burn like fire, the hatred she has ommited sticks as glue to my memory bank of hurting words I delve into the creaking shelves of haunting dialogues and ...

What are we but lonesome creatures prowling in the Night. Under the stars, under the sky, under the cold moonlight. The beauty, the sorrow, the laughter and fears, We'll be ...

When Your Mind Was Empty The way it used to be You'd sit at the desk Feathered pen in heavy hand Waiting for the words to come Waiting for inspiration. ...

life was meant. to harness,to flow our opinion is what we make it and without us there would be no and without our Creator there would be no us.

This is very much a story poem, with some prose stuffed in. Thursdays It must be Thursday. I never could get the hang of Thursdays. - Arthur Dent, Hitchhiker's Guide ...

Rounding and whirling Lost in the rhythm Pounding and sinking Dreams of tomorrow Lost in the dances Silver in moonlight Scarlet in bloodbath Glory and passion Ecstacy blooming Dancing til ...