Young Writers Society

The wolf howls a celestial song of sorrow As the sun preaches a multi-hued farewell. I wait in mourning for night to draw near But all that comes is everlasting ...

We are all strangers to life, As we begin down the road.With an opportunity to touch others Before we get old.Humbly, I write, these words you would say, Your message ...

[pre]The secret spaces, in clouds with faces, Carry seas from oceans far. They hold on to their water, and wait for the slaughter, As they thunder for the Evening Star. ...

There she stands- limbs embracing the sky, olive coattails flapping lazily in the wind. Crystal tears dangle-- frozen--in time. The last of her kind-- firm, steady, stong. A woodpecker alights, ...

The Heroine Addict Little Betty Noir was not upset. Most heroines, she knew, were orphans. Disposing of her parents was hardly problematic. (Foot note: Bête noire is the French phrase ...

the romantic he was unaware that when she said till death do us part she meant la petite mort (Foot note: la petite mort, [for those who aren't Clau] translates ...

So, I took another stab at ultra short poetry. I think I did better with this one, than with my last. All comments are appreciated greatly! Rough Drafts Crinkled pages ...

Look inside, you know you'll find a heart Look in my heart you know you'll see your eyes Look at my eyes and kiss the tear off my heart kiss ...

This is a lament for 9/11. So much has already been said about that terrible day, and I have tried my best to create a unique poem. Shattered Glass A ...

she calls me beautiful With quivering lips and trembling thighs, and all dressed up in high heels with the stench of hot sherry, --a lingering taste of metal and sugar, ...

I'm sorry but I must say goodbye, and please don't ask why, for it is too painful for me to see the ones I love hurt So please just please ...

What once was only dark Your wings took it away And the sadness in my heart Just flew away The sun's cold rays froze my heart nearly to death And ...

this pencil can write it can be a tool a tool or a weapon it can express your emotions getting them out of your mind joting them down that may ...

it's not my fault the ball was flying I didn't mean to! sorry the window's broken

So Epic poetry is more fantasy than anything. (I.E. Beowulf) But this is just a little ditty I wrote for my British Lit class. -------------- Dree was a virtuous man, ...