Young Writers Society

First year of napo here I come c:
aka I don't know what I'm doing

Goals:
-Write a poem a day or 30 poems in April (or maybe more)
-Be adventurous
-Write a variety of poems
-Have fun!

More goal stuff but they're kind of just reminders to myself:
-Use metaphors
-Write about feels too
-Show not tell
-Sensory details
-Imagery
-Don't do all free verse

Inspo journal

Poem links:

40/30
Completed NaPo!

Everyone is free to comment! I like comments actually. But don't review any poems please. They're all going to be kind rough and not my best and I know this. c:

Pre NaPo poeting

0.
an ocean of green

breezes puff ripples through the valley
an ocean of green
with some swirls of yellow and white
the scent of things green and growing
frolicking through the wind
wind hugging dancing grasses
and tickling newly opened buds
grass becomes an ocean
the sun reflecting off the waves
and smiling down on the house at the edge
as two little children wade into the waters of green
small toes free from shoes and socks
and faces warming in the rays of sun
flowers turn into crowns
cheeks turn pink with laughter
small feet make mazes
and the children roll down the hills
leaving flattened green water behind
the valley laughs at the innocent joy
of two small children
exploring an ocean of green

Love the poem.
Just here to wish you the best of luck for NaPo.
Can't wait to read some of your poetry

Aw thank you snow! c: Good luck to you as well!

1.
book

worn leather coat
encasing fraying paper
ripped in the corners
grese stains on the edges
from hungry fingers
hungry for both food and words
the pages are worn
but they still hold their magic
the adventures are still crisp
and the love still just as sweet
the cover bursting with its magical words
just waiting for a curious soul
to open it up
and be thrown into its secret world

2.
constellations

indigo sky
scattered with glowing embers
millions of miles away
but still shining light upon my starry eyes
here on my little patch of earth

i search the sky
trying to find some constellations
but they're hiding in the rest of the stars
little treasures that not everyone can find
even when I hold their hands to show them
the stories in the sky

i'm constantly relating to constellations
in the way they're there
but not everyone can find them
in the mass of stars the night sky cradles

i'm lost in the stars
one in a million
not many may see me
but i'll just keep shining
for the ones who do

3.
i want to be a poet

i want to be a poet
and make words come to life
with stunning metaphors
and words extraordinaire

i want to be a poet
and maybe learn how to rhyme
with simple words like fish and dish
and complex like luminous and voluminous

i want to be a poet
with my brain bursting with imagination
characters flying from my fingers
and worlds forming at the tap of the keyboard

i want to be a poet
write poems to hold my feelings
anger sizzling in the first
and tears washing over the next

i want to be a poet
and write poems to my hearts content
but the thing is
what exactly is a poet?

4.
pineapple

look at the pineapple
a strange yellow fruit
spines on the outside
and sweet flesh in

why is it named a pineapple?
it does have spines
yet it is not an apple
but its own unique fruit

i admire that pineapple
with its tall green crown
standing tall and proud
among all the other fruits

i want to be a pineapple
stand tall with a crown
be sweet on the inside
despite my strange name

5.
wings

wings are something we all need
so we can soar above the clouds
reach our hopes and dreams
and become them
and win the motivation to find some more

some have angel wings
other eagles
some made out of old sheets
others of treasures in the garage
and still some just flap their arms with a little bit of paper

i have wings like all the rest
right now they're made of cardboard
but all it takes is a little imagination
and can become a pilot
of my very own airplane

wings don't stay the same however
they grow and change
better the next day
when you have learned a little better
on how to reach your dreams

6.
toast

a single slice of week old bread
bounces into one of the slits in the little metal box
lever goes down
shlink
small metal strips fade to red hot
the box lets off a quiet buzz-hum
scent of burning crumbs drifts out
the only noise in the silent morning kitchen
sigh
forehead against the cool metal of the fridge
waiting
small noises reach further in the silence
the sound of the breeze blowing lightly across the top of the vent on the roof
the cat purring and snoring on the window ledge
the old house creaking and settling
minutes passing
more waiting
pop
bread jumps with a startled heart
all that sits is warm bread
a longer sigh
down goes the bread again
shlink
knob turns up
sock feet shuffle across the floor
chin rest on hand on the windowsill
eyes search the outside for something new
cat vibrating gently beside
oblivious to the world
sighs of waiting
tick-tock of a clock
reminder of time passing and waiting
pop
stronger scent of burning
oh
that's not crumbs
a slice of flaky black toast
a little too toasty
into the trashcan
sigh
is it worth it to try again?

7.
sparks

sparks fly
flint to steel
friction of two objects
rubbing each other the wrong way

we are the flint and steel
you the flint
who also makes the tips of arrows
who's words can be sharper than you know
or an arrow of truth
which pierces my heart
and lifts me up
your words of magnets
two polar opposites

i am the steel
i form buckets as well
holding myself inside
but you pierced a hole
right through the bottom
and made me spill myself right onto you
and i wish i hadn't
because your arrows are waterproof
and you don't seem to care
after i finished pouring myself on you

you rubbed me one last time
with your words of flint
sparks flying everywhere
but this time they light a fire
the fire becomes me
but now that it's lit
i'm not going to stop it
because you need to feel
how it feels to get burnt

8.

friends of my dreams

when i was 3
imagination wide open
i wanted a pony like every other kid
but a special one with purple angel wings
and a silver spiraling horn
a pelt the color of plums
and a musical voice
that might sing me lullabys

when i was 6
fantasy stories filling my head
i wished for a fairy
a small winged friend
wings made of dewdrops
a dress of delicate pink petals
who could dance upon a breeze
and would be the friend i lacked

when i was 9
devouring every new fairytale i could reach
i hoped for a mermaid
a gracful human fish
a tail of dark green scales
hair matching the seaweed
who would lead me on adventures underwater
and teach me how to speak to fish

when i was 12
dreams filled with adventures of noble knights
i fancied a dragon
a shiny golden beast
gentle as a lamb
yet fierce and protective
with strong golden wings that could carry me away
and smelling of campfires from the smoke curling softly from his nose

now that i'm 15
i think i'm still dreaming of a dragon deep in my mind
but i think i can learn to settle with
a pet that is a tad easier to find
one that i don't just hope exists
like a small, furry, wingless dragon
that goes by the name
cat

9.
pain like pointe shoes

i wear my pain like pointe shoes
all everyone else sees is satin covered feet
that make me look like i'm a feather
flying through the breeze
no one thinks it's painful
but inside those pretty pink shoes
my feet are bloody
bruised
and blistered
but after a while
the skin thickens
and callouses protect my fragile feet
but that's hidden behind the satin
they don't see the pain it takes
to look like i'm floating
the needles of pain i had to learn how to endure
just so you could watch me dance across the stage
on the tips of my toes
and no one seems to care enough
to look behind the plastic smile
covered in makeup
or to see how much hard work it took
to be able to hold myself up
on the tips of my toes
and land almost soundlessly
the blocks in my toes just a part of my foot
how much it hurts to hold my arms up
after hours of practice
pain makes you stronger
so it doesn't hurt so much the second time
but sometimes people forget
you have to go through the pain first
before you can be graceful in those
little pink shoes

10.
ripples in the river

water rippling softly
down the riverbed
curving around obstacles
soft murmuring is all it said

a little stack of pebbles
a rusty old pipe
an old tire half submerged
an apple that's very overripe

no matter the obstacles
the river flows on
and we should to
no matter the goings-on

11.
music of the forest

in the silence of a forest
there is still sound
a gentle sound that soothes me

gurgling of the stream
running softly down the riverbed
around and over sticks and stones

soft pitter patter of water drops
leaf to stone
dripping from the freshly misted canopy

distant chriping of a lark
singing its new song
after the rain

the skitter of small animals
scurrying to and fro
searching for food and shelter

the whistle of the wind
blowing swiftly around the trees
and dancing with the fallen leaves

this is what soothes me
the soft noises of the forest
its own unique music