Young Writers Society

ii

A shadow once feared is gone. Light begins to shine through the dark. Hope is restored, freedom is given, life begins, with the warmth of the heart.

I looked at the sunset, All purple and red. I thought out loud, "The painter I must meet! For the artist uses colors or every tint and shade, to paint ...

When I was five I used to see Boys as disgusting as dead birds And the also had cooties Then when I turned eight I started to realize Those boys ...

Behold what’s beyond as we conquer this geometric object, remembrance anguished trough divinity resting at its pace Abstract images sustain, fooling those detached from their source. The universe pa

Go easy, it's my first time rhyming An unsettled mind, and a restless heart. You are thrown against the wall, with no way out. Where do you go, who do ...

The Lego bricks tumble and fall, The men they lie beneath it all, The guilty stand, emotion, no change, Their bullets empty from any range. Their legs don't move, they ...

There is a path that runs through sugar grasses and corn mazes, by streets with roaring disks of light, stars streaking through uncounted trees and unmapped farmland - this road ...

For my Zen and Emerson class last year we read "Thirteen Ways of Looking At a Blackbird" by Wallace Stevens. We had to write a poem in a similar style ...

Explanation: Some broken promises, some broken dreams, more broken promises, more broken dreams, a bit of French, and a curious ending. MEDICATE IT! He promised to kill me quietly under ...

PART I The witch. The enchantment. Muttered words, the wave of a wand And I feel a strange transformation Coming over me - a metamorphosis I have wings a beak ...

Residing in an empty socket, An endless sphere of incandescent light, Floating… drifting in a sea of placid milky white. The window to a twisted world… a personal kaleidoscope. Only ...

Black Black dances with the devil In front of the gates to Hell Twisting and turning Intertwining together The Devil and the Black Become one whole Together they rule the ...

Eleven-thirty. The cook handed me an apron and eyed the cellphone in my pocket. "Hide that," he said. Shrugging, I slipped it into my coat, balling it into a corner ...

cigarette smoke hangs in the air like gunsmoke, the sofa has become a battleground. its soft cushions hold nothing but fear. my policy is appeasement - i distract you with ...