Young Writers Society

it had to have been passion that snapped them off, for flowers and scissors do not mix in wine-drunk twilights and the gloom of unsteady streetlamps, especially not on nights ...

This poem was written by my friend Rachel, and I felt that it needed to be posted so that somewhere it could maybe make a difference. It's pretty simple and ...

For you I will write a song and sing it, I love you, I admit it. You are a dream come true I could not have coped without you. These ...

Winter ice on your unsheathed knife frozen blood and frozen tears newly spilt, so young and brittle, against my shoulder you whispered lies where once hope rose in cold eyes, ...

WHAT SHIPS MAY COME There's mist outside my window blanketing the street with white, And foreign shapes that struggle to be seen. I am not one to break the silence ...

"Love" paints a picture Of flowers and light, But to this strong emotion Is a darker side. Pain and confusion Contrast supreme bliss. So many lovers Are witness to this. ...

Chapter Twenty-Two Max acted quickly. He threw his hands out, grabbing on to his three friends and shutting his eyes tight, letting his energy spill into them. He could feel ...

No extra words, no extra lines. Excellent descriptions, excellent prose.

There was a light through the darkness. One light, a tiny speck of hope that expanded into a column, which grew into a door. A person stepped into it, casting ...

[u]A Familiar Path[/u] I stroll through night’s streets, the cool air gently numbs my skin and I welcome it. Each breath seems to linger at the back of my throat ...

Wow, I've been gone a LONG time!!! Catch Them If You Can Prologue January 5, 2000 It was a cold Saturday morning. Elliot Fox slid across the wooden floors in ...

With blue braids tipped foam-green and skin the shine of the sea she glides between the caps and waves. in a moment of sponteanity she leaps and flaps her sparkle-scaled ...

the never bird gave up her nest to save a boy so keen on single destruction death seemed like a very big adventure and Heathcliff plumetted into a life long ...

The past’s-elastic is fraying And I find that I’m guilty, When my crimes have a face That stares back in stanzas.

A quiet attraction so platonic not so innocent uneasiness engulfs me the knowledge of no mutual feelings moving on seems to be one of the hardest things no more than ...