Young Writers Society

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 ...

This is my first posting of a poem or a story or anything. I'm not quite sure on the puncuation so if you have any advice let me know. Thanks! ...

She took her raisin hands and brushed coiled scars and barbed curls from my hitchhiking eyes. "Destination is always nowhere in a hurry." Peddlers whistle so fast only dog's ears ...

....a train lowing What does it mean, to low?in a star-plucked field, This is pretty, but it means very little, besides perhaps "separated from fate". But judging by the fact ...

fuck him. is what you'd think I'd say but I'm too caught up with yesterday. only he can sing those memorable suicidal serenades with his lullabies to paralyze and heavy ...

I wrote this for an english class assignment. I don't usually write too much poetry, so I'd appreciate any advice you have to give Tall, they stand in rows- Erect ...

Brown sweat on my fingerprints, I wipe acoustics’s brow again with a rag from the stranger's Levi jeans. It's stained with holy water and blotches the souls we've bled profuse ...

a ghost lingers in the doorway silently watching and listening to the lives that flow around it it. . . or him I cannot tell which but sometimes in the ...