Young Writers Society

I was born in the war, she says, and
everybody laughs at her.

Last year it was adoption; she'd lower her
voice and whisper My parents are not my
parents, and look over her shoulder like she
expected someone to come after her for saying it.
She had her father's chin and her mother's feet
but I never told her that, because

you see, there was something about her hands that
was more bird than girl, and her skin sometimes
shone transparent, blue veins skittering like the
fragile lines along stained glass windows and
dragonfly wings.

The year before that she said I'm deaf.
I've been reading your lips all along.
There was something of willows,
in how she bent her neck; the others were
laughing at that, too, and she didn’t flinch, just
walked off, her eyes closed and her heart tucked
away, like someone I could almost trust, like a truth I
could maybe learn to believe in.

I can see ghosts, she says, every other week-end,
and flicks the flashlight off. In the darkness her hands
move along the rhythm of her words. This is
no longer Jane's room; the branches tapping at the windows
are dry bones and the floorboards suddenly hold
secrets. We reach for one another, and the other girls whisper
She lies so well, giggle a bit desperately as the stairs
whine under someone's foot and the door creaks open.

I love this weather, she says, sitting under my window
soaked and half-drowned in rainwater. I pull it up and let her in, and
she shakes herself like somehow the sadness could fall away.
How's the war going, I ask, and she smiles at me through the
the shrapnel glinting inside her eyes. Same old, she says.
Lots of collateral.

She's dripping all over my floor, so I get her a
towel. Will your parents mind, she asks, and I shake my
head, no, and do not ask Will yours?
Say my name, she asks, and I do, and she
says, Again, and Again, and Again, and I'm trying
to keep my voice steady while she cries, and I kiss
her, very gently, when she asks if
maybe I could please hit her.

I can see ghosts, she says, every other week-end, paragraph you mispelled rythem. Although I couldn't quit understand everything. You should make it more clear but otherwise it was pretty good.

Hey Jagged,

Wow! I really, really love this. It has such a mysterious, beautiful feel to it. You create such vivid images with your words, and with this poem you've made it really seem as if the characters are truly real. I love the way you've taken a girl and made her into such an individual, real yet mysterious character.

I disagree with Boogie97 - I think that the poem is clear enough and personally I found that I could understand it. It leaves questions to be answered, but most good poetry does. You've woven it together in such a way that made me want to read it again after I'd finished - I want to read it again right now! There's just something about it which drew me in - maybe the fact that it flows so well, or just that it seems so real. It's beautiful.

I'm trying to think of some suggestions to improve this poem, but really, it's not an easy task! I can see that you've edited this already because each line just flows so well - there are no out of place, jagged words or rhythms. It's just so nice to read.

you see, there was something about her hands that
was more bird than girl, and her skin sometimes
shone transparent, blue veins skittering like the
fragile lines along stained glass windows and
dragonfly wings.

I absolutely love this stanza. The way you've described her hands and her veins is so vivid, so mysterious.

I guess the only thing which seems just slightly out of place is the fact that she asks the narrator to hit her near the end - but at the same time, you've already shown her to be quite an eccentric and unusual character who seems to have some kind of deep sadness within her, so it doesn't seem too out of character for her to ask for such a thing.

I really can't think of any suggestions. I loved this, and I'm really glad that I took the time to read it.

Keep writing,

~MorningMist~

Jaggles,

This is utterly beautiful, really. I think that you envisage and visit this bird-like girl very well, she's perfect on the whole. I enjoy her coming through the window, the painful existence she has. And their relationship which is unhealthy and terrible and wonderful because of it. Some of the very passive sentences get to me a little bit. I say some, I mean the one "you see, there was something...than girl" is way too passive for me, it's taking too long to say what you're saying. I think it clashes so terribly because your other lines don't read like that at all, they run smoothly. I'd shorten it, to be to the point. XD

I like your last line very much. Mostly because it has the appearance of coming from nowhere but is certainly not from nowhere. I think you tell us absolutely everything we need to know to make that line not something wrong to the situation. you've expounded your characters excellently. I'm rather enamoured by the entire thing.

Thank you for posting.
<3

Hey Jagged! Congrats on being featured!!!! I love this piece so much! So strong, so much imagery, so much power you hold in your words. This is a perfect example of writng a piece of poetry and leaving a huge impact on the reader. You have left an impact on me which is what you should aim to do in all of your writing. SO PROPS TO YOU!!!!

All and all I don't have anything to say that hasn't already been said! Keep up the good work!!! Happy Writing!!!


TuckEr EllsworTh

This was a beautifully written, amazing piece of work! You should be proud! I think that the word choice was just right, no grammar mistakes that I could see, but the only thing that I found wrong, was some of the way that it flowed. Like in this quote:

Jagged wrote:the others were
laughing at that, too, and she didn’t flinch, just
walked off, her eyes closed and her heart tucked
away, like someone I could almost trust, like a truth I
could maybe learn to believe in.

Try re-wording it as to where you don't have as many commas. It interrupted the flow just a bit.

Jagged wrote:I can see ghosts, she says, every other week-end,
and flicks the flashlight off.

This quote didn't make very much sense to me... the only part that got me was the "every other week-end" excerpt. It didn't seem to fit very well.

Overall, this was phenomenal and I am extremely jealous of your writing skills! The emotion, mood and feelings that this work portrayed left me speechless! If you just fix the flow a bit, this masterpiece will be priceless, I guarantee! Keep writing! BRAVO