Young Writers Society

I'm going to try and do some narrative poetry, but I'll be sprinkling in some blackout poetry too. Let's see how I do!

(title of the thread's from the game Night in the Woods)

Day 1
(class assignment about an object—my object was a miniature tape measure)

I dig through the drawers
casting pencil and paper aside,
until I find
buried within
something I can use.

Day Two
Ode to the Frog:

A specimen, fresh from the jar,
you sit upon the tray
When I pick up the scalpel,
you're half a world away

Day Three

I take off my glasses
and the city blurs.
Streetlights meld together,
Staining the smog an eerie
Red, yellow, green.
I tilt my head back and sigh.
Staring through the tinted glass,
It feels almost serene.

Day Four
(inspired by my friend sticking a pen up his nose. weird, i know.)

The pen sits in his nose,
a hole that doesn't fit.
my friend, he is
an idiot

Day Five (I'm late on posting bc of school + senior retreat. i played around with abstraction in the last few days)

'Justice'
A torn up paper airplane, crashing to the ground.
The sting of papercuts on fingertips.
The strained scabs on my knuckles,
a broken tooth.
The taste of blood and toothpaste,
pink-stained spit.
Fire alarms after class,
and a bald eagle's graceless, garbled cry.

Day Six

'Names'
of the Adriatic,
respect, strength.
Red as blood on concrete,
as fire ants
burning.
A whipping wind,
a cyclone.
fists held up in defiance,
ready.

Day Seven -

'Dead Deer'
My roommate found a deer behind the science building,
and I'm trying not to think about
its shrunken eyes and torn skin.
or how I saw it from far away,
and thought it was a rock.

Day Eight —

Dragon t-shirt.
threads of orange, red, gold.
packaged into perfection,
woven, stitched, and sold.

I think you're using your dark humor well in a few of these - day seven for example was very gruesome, and then the unexpected turn at the end about thinking it was a rock was uncomfortably funny, but also really made me think about the poem for a few minutes - the image is stuck in my mind.

I would love to see expansion or a companion poem of Day 7, and Day 2. I'll also admit Day 4 made me laugh.

Good luck with the rest of these!

(Thank you so much for the feedback, Alliyah!)

Day Nine —

When I think of my childhood,
I think of rag paper
left in the mill to rot,
it grows as sweet
and moldy
as a fallen peach.

Day Ten

Ode to the Abandoned Paper Mill:
To the Giants’ castle of graffiti-stained glass,
and the smokestacks that scratched the sky:
I can’t remember a time when you were alive,
but I remember the fire that killed you.
I could smell it, even miles away,
The spicy scent lingered for days.
Your bones became a tribute
Of a half-a-million lost.
It cost too much to fix you,
so they left you there to rot.
In the sun, in the rain.
You remained.

Day Eleven

We said what we were going to say
and remembered the dead and buried.
Now it was time to be a functioning adult.

Day Twelve

Good God,
It's misshapen,
shrunken.
A blight rooted in growth.

Day Thirteen

A specimen jar,
a human heart.
Regard it,
it's beating.