Young Writers Society

Hi

Silence
Upon Passing an Apple Store
Failing to Translate
After a Poetry Slam
Avoiding the Decision Making Process
His Birthday Would Have Been Thursday
Despite Being Hypocritical
wordless
A Friend Picked Olives in the Rain
The Test to be Revolutionaries
Unnamed 1
the infinity mirror
I got a Haircut Today

So, vacation and the beach really agreed with my creative process, and I wrote a whole bunch these last four days.
Beach Poem 1
Beach Poem 2
Beach Poem 3

We also went to Savannah, Georgia (which I highly suggest if you're anywhere near what would be considered 'in the area'), and Savannah has these squares everywhere. Every one is a unique little park. If I had been alone/with people who were patient/with people who didn't get tired of touring around as quickly as some peeps in my group, I had a goal of writing a poem for each and naming the poems after the squares. Buuut... I only got to see, like, 8 or so of them, and I forgot their names except for, like, two. Next time I'm in Savannah I guess -_- There was no need for this paragraph, but you get to have it as a bonus anyways ^-^
Savannah Poem 1 (Riverwalk)
Savannah Poem 2 (The Squares of the Battling Trumpets)
Savannah Poem 3 (The Language of Architecture)
Savannah Poem 4 (Sidewalk Art Festival in Forsythe Square)
Savannah Poem 5 (Cemetery Park)

This poor guy was one of the first that should have been written, but I actually wrote him when I got back home xP
Beach Poem 4

These next four are nonsensical, but they're pretty.
Novel Poem 1
Novel Poem 2
Novel Poem 3
Novel Poem 4

A Fire Burns at Both Ends
Unnamed 2
Eager Advertising
Before, During, and After a Thunderstorm

Silence except for wind
and leaves.
Complete silence is terrifying.
Thinking about the total
lack of sound.

My throat gets tight.
My palms sweat.
I merely try to imagine
silence
no wind.

Perhaps that's why angels sing
when we die.
Maybe hell is complete
and utter
silence

There was a reason the fruit of knowledge was forbidden.
Is no one shocked at the need to
plug in
log in
forget reality in
the time it takes to boot up.
We lace up wires of earbuds,
making sure to show off
our ability to
blink out of this life
even if we're forced to scroll through.

Updating
Uploading... loading... loading
Undoing if we're forced to
Hoping that the next step isn't too evolved
What god plans to throw life away?
As we click the hyperlink to
NEWEST MODEL!
.0001 mm thinner!
Screen too big to fit in pockets
Faster train to whisk you away
to the fantasy of choice.

He's talking to me about Pokemon.
Isn't there an accent mark or...
Whatever.
The names he's spewing aren't Pikachu
and the language he's speaking isn't
"That one with the water and the...
Squir- Squirl- Squirt-
Oh, I don't know.
I smile and nod,
wondering if there's any meaning behind
Magicarp... carl... cart...
Butterflee... free...?
And what is a Pikachu?
An electric cat... raccoon... dwarf?
I blink back into the "conversation."
I wonder why I'm still standing here.

This place feels like a church
so I must be a whore
‘cause, honey, I’m sweating.
I’ve lost the key to my ribcage
that so many of you open
to free the bird beating against the bars.

Show tourists all of the secrets.
“To my left is the heart that keeps me living.
To both sides, the lung cousins taking in my environment
even if it hurts.
The kidney twins sort through the toxins
I refuse to stop bringing.
My stomach gurgling for cravings.
My appendix…
I’m still not quite sure what that does
except that it’s a ticking time bomb.”

Whose feet did you anoint with your tears
and dry with your hair
to make giving glimpses into your world
so easy?

dont
bring it up again
i realize its
the mold covered elephant
in the room

i dont like these leftovers
so theyve spoiled in my brain
sitting for months
as i avoid them until
they shuffled its way
to the back

that was done on purpose

perhaps one rotten apple
makes the whole bunch bad
but this leaky tupperware
is failproof

Thinking of him was like
cooking with onions.
I must have
allergies
because bringing him up,
I am dry eyed.

Sautéed onions are necessary
for decent stir fry.
I, however, ignore the burn of guilt.
Funny how it's reminiscent
of onions.

Words gush out of an open mouth
blue, green, yellow, the occasional red.
What no one told her that words wasted
cannot be retrieved
and her words were quickly bleached out.

I am afraid meaning is hard to come by and needlessly wasted.
Words don't hold dye well
and Crayola scribbles don't have that sincere flow.

Talking, tweeting, updating
24/7
Listen to me-
Rant Alert-
But don't be offended
because that would be taking a stand
which isn't done in this tightrope world.

Leech color out with repitition
Self-absorbtion.

Meaning is a limited resource
so why don't we turn off the faucet
and maybe colors will return.

that moment when your heart is swelling
and you can feel every emotion
vibrating on your skin
there are no words

its like seeing the sun shine
while you stand in the rain
living in an indescribable battle
or peace
being so sure about something
thats not there
you feel the brush of individual fingers

the poetry bumps within your veins
begging to be free
in that moment punctuation
are bars
and time
is a curse

the poetry loses its glow
after the first stanza

it is dark after the third

the fourth is never finished

but within you
you hide the poetry of a moment
too beautiful for words

A friend picked olives in the rain
and I can imagine the smell except
it smells like canned olives
and not even the fancy ones with the pits
but the black ones
that taste like soggy plastic.

I have seen pictures of
an olive grove though but
it was in Greece
and I'm not sure what
the differences between
Greece and New Zealand are
but I'm sure they are many.

I have felt the rain
and I've heard it
in the muted world of forests
but I assume that's different
than a olive grove.

I have been in that moment
where rain dampens skin
and as I duck under shelter
the sun breaks from behind a cloud.

It's hot and humid
as the golden face calls
the just-freed precipitation up.
I watch the droplets sparkle
before they die upon the pavement
just before my feet
where they write eulogies
for their brothers.

It is a grey area
that makes one almost
uncomfortable to be in.

Perhaps it's a gray area
that my friend and I can share.

Or perhaps pine forests
and olive groves
are too different

Thanks for the idea, @Blackwood

"All of those inspirational things are quotes,
even when we think we made them up,"
she says
and I agree with her until I think
of the fact that the
Churchills and King Jrs and Kennedys
of the world
were not quoting.

Okay, maybe they were reading
a script written by a faceless shadow
forgotten by history.

But, the faceless, forgotten shadow
certainly didn't quote.

Perhaps the catchy phrase that goes under a revolution-

Civil Rights
"I have a dream"

Kill the aristocrats
Can you believe she said "Let us eat cake?"

Beat the Nazis
"Never give up! Never give up! Never give up!"

Beat the Russians to the moon
"Not because they are easy, but because they are hard"

-is a test to get be a decent revolution.
Catchphrases take imagination
and so do revolutions.

Thank you @AriaAdams for saying that in chat and inspiring this silliness

Megs...these are beautiful. They're all so vivid. And you definitely have your own voice. The two from 4/12 are my favorites, I think. And the first one from the 19th. Can't wait to see more =]

*blushes* That makes me feel a little less discouraged about some of the suckage going on here xP

(I don't even know... Spewing of thoughts. I feel clean now though xP)


Her hair blew in the spring wind
as we lay on the hood of my car,
knowing that when we returned to the real world
the yellow of pollen would mark our backs
and tell everyone of our journey.

Of us, she was the wild one
and I gladly threw myself behind her,
happy to follow one so light.
I had done so when we were seven
and allying against the dark.
I do so now as a girl on the cusp of freedom
which is terrifying and beautiful.

She understands
as all of the feelings I've been saving tumble out
in my characteristic
jerky stops and starts as I
search for the perfect word only to give up
or because I am embarrassed and afraid.
She understands
because she stands at the same cusp
and she's scared too
and some people look at her with blank expressions too
and sometimes she can't find that perfect word that exists, damn it.
Sometimes people take her stutters as stupidity
or speak during her thoughtful silences.

I am shy when I explain why
she and I are souls mates.
How, because I know she'll understand,
romance really makes soul mates break.
"We are soul sisters," she laughs.

My heart is lighter with her around.

i want to stay up all night
and write bad poetry
and be proud of it in the dark

hide it away
just as im
dropping off
hoping Future Me will
forget it was written until
Far Future Me will find it
and be amused
or perhaps uplifted

while Past Me doodles rhymes
in the margins
and scolds Present Me for worrying
though ill never listen