Young Writers Society

NOTE: It is really difficult writing a poem based on something that's 100% true and that actually happened. I already know, this poem needs a lot of work, but I can't alter it too much otherwise, it'll destroy the poems's meaning. I personally don't like the structure of it, but I don't know...just read it and tell me what you think.

My Living Hell - True Story
By Morgan Harper
May 11, 2005

1987 and 1990
Are three years
Standing in the doorway.

You are my living hell.
A fifteen-year-old boy who doesn't play with little girls
He grew up with way down in Atlanta.

In my twelve-year-old mind,
My world is Nathan.
With old diaries to prove,
Every page is filled
In dripping red ink:
Nathan this
Nathan that

I remember every Sunday
Giving and taking evil glances
Behind our hazel eyes
We were just searching
In a trailer we called a church.

Now I want to snatch away your red Monte Carlo
Tell you every dream you have
Of becoming a singer
Will never happen.

I lie in the lowest valley on earth.
Since your twingy little phrases
Drug me there.

It was such a false love.
And you made me never like another
Black boy ever again.

You hated me—
With your fake gold teeth and
The Jersey accent you tried to relive.
We liked to call you a perpetrator

Nothing changed, Nathan.
Time is just slipping.
We're just getting older.
And in two weeks you'll be
A grown man

2002 and 2005
Are three years
A new world was found.

You were my living hell.
A fifteen-year-old boy who didn't play with little girls
He grew up with way down in Atlanta.

hmmm.. :-k :-k :-k this is good, i dont exactaly get the meaning (if it is obvious to other people, throw rocks at me).... i like it....

I don't know why I posted this really. Without reading all my diary entries from when I was younger, I don't think anyone will understand what I'm saying except for me, and Nathan himself. It's actually apart of my personal journal. I don't know...just kind of like what goes on inside my head.

The title of this piece made me cringe. I mean, compulsively cringe. I was afraid I would lapse into an epileptic seizure. Or something.

Anyway, this poem was much better than all preceding it. You're really developing as a writer. My only comment is when you say "this trailer called a church" - I was expecting "this trailerchurch." Don't ask why. I don't know, but that's what I think should be changed.

You know, a basic summary is that you are still developing a style, in that you are developed but still learning how to be concise with your words. This piece is very long and could be shortened tremendously, increasing the impact on the reader. However, a very distinct note about your poetry is that it always engages the reader from a distance. Perhaps this is your intention, but I don't think so. That is the feeling I always get from your poetry, though. You describe it so much as an event not happening to you (or just with very few details) that I don't feel particularly like caring about whatever is going on in your poetry. Work on it.