Young Writers Society

first time napo-er

let's see how this goes
(I never write poems)

goal: 15 poems

i. sleeping beauty

pink cheeks and saccharine eyes
cover the briar roses
a flower escapes her lips,
but the thorns cut her throat

sweet, smart, and kind
the fairy godmothers say.
a rose for her, a kiss from him
on lips as pink as dawn.

ii. wonderland

she pours her black tea
over the three sugar cubes.
it drowns, drowns, drowns

her black tea tears,
too cold.
the sugar doesn’t dissolve.
and when she tastes her
black tea tears,
she shrinks,
smaller, smaller, smaller.

it’s a tea party for one.

Hey Rain! These are both really nice poems here - I like the play on words and these precise, specific images of the stereotypical "sweet/perfect" princess type, or the tea party. Both are short, but interesting little look-ins to the fairy tale world. Really nice start!

iii.

a shadow of her figure,
nothing more and nothing less.
a silhouette, a whisper on its last breath.

the girl flickers,
her body a candle,
it’s wax running thin.

a breath is all the candle
needs to die.

the big bad wolf doesn’t have
to try hard.

iv. rapunzel

rapunzel, rapunzel
let down your hair.

too golden for the
silver prince,
too silver for the
golden boy

too precious for the
wicked witch
and too tangled for the
poor.

rapunzel, rapunzel,
they love your hair.

they love your hair,
they say, but surely you
know better --

for it’s too golden for the
silver prince and
too silver for the
golden boy.

v. blue fairy

if i wished upon this glossy moonlight,
the blue fairy would arrive.
(she will wear a blue-petal dress that sparkles
with the moon, a glimmer in her eyes, and two
sky slippers to match).
she would ask me what i wish for
and i would tell her i wished for something better.

the wishes through tunnels, the wishes on trees,
wishes on lashes and dandelions

my wish is always the same, but this time
the blue fairy grants it for me;
too good to be true, magic in my veins.

too good to be true

vi. cinderella

my desperation lies somewhere
between a pumpkin carriage and
glass slippers.

my truth is cinder ashes;
of feet too big or too small,
of a dress cinched so tight I
cannot breathe.

This came out a bit different than I had intended it to, but I'm not mad about the result ?? The band aid box/colored pencils thing actually was an actual study done to test "theory of mind" in developmental psychology. Check it out here if you want: https://harddrivingtigers.weebly.com/th ... -mind.html.


vii. theory of mind

this band aid box has colored pencils in it,
with every color except the that light green that
I need to finish coloring in the song of the birds.

birdsong, lovesong
quietsong, prettysong

this band aid box has colored pencils in it,
and when I shake it it rattles to the tune of
a songbird’s birdsong.

prettysong, quietsong
lovesong, birdsong

this band aid box has colored pencils in it,
blue for the bluebird and yellow for the tune
but no light green for the song of the birds
(the beautiful birdsong).

viii. gingerbread

pineapple kisses cloud my mind,
sun-dropped flowers between my toes.

when will these pineapple kisses turn to
gingerbread hugs?
when will these flowers turn dew-glazed?

why is summer crying?

I follow this trail of breadcrumbs and fear
but it seems I have lost my way.

aka the hangnail poem

ix. pastel purple fairy tale

That princess has curled hair, bouncy and sleek
and doe-like eyes and perfectly rounded nails
painted over in a pastel purple.

Her cuticles are trimmed and her nails aren’t
cracked or stubbed or chipped or succumbed to
nail biting.

She has the kind of fingers you notice
just because they’re pretty; slender and thin
and nails painted in a pastel purple;
fingers that curl over a teacup so daintily.

Alone, she picks at hangnails until they bleed,
flakes off freshly painted nail polish,
and anxiously bites her nails.

But of course, the very next day her slender
fingers are covered in oils and lotions and massaged
until they’re as soft as the velvet of the royal throne,
painted over once again in a pastel purple,
and ignored until the princess is alone once again.

x. magic

Once upon a time
there was magic in the land.

She used to color the skies with
a rainbow imagination,
but with magic gone, her colors
are dull and she is gray.

Hey EternalRain! Nice work so far on your first ever NaPo! I hope you're enjoying it

I like the fairytale theme you're running with here. I think (ii) is probably my favourite so far, but I also really like this bit:

my desperation lies somewhere
between a pumpkin carriage and
glass slippers.

@Cadi Thank you so much! I’m glad to hear you like those three lines because I quite like them too lol :’)

xi. the princess and the pea

she cannot sleep at night.
there is a lump in her bed,
a lump in her throat, and a
rock in her stomach.

the storm crashes outside,
and she still cannot sleep.
there’s a lump in the mattress,
but she is a princess, and she can
feel all sorts of pain.