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Young Writers Society


spring waits for no one



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Fri Apr 10, 2020 3:41 am
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TheSilverFox says...



1 * 3^2: Actually I just got my grade and it was an A, and I'd been lowballing it because of self-doubt or something (april 9th)

you'd think they'd have learned by now,
but I can see the leaves on the trees blooming,
the buds ready to snap off and flop to the ground
when that snowstorm blows through in a couple days

but I can't help but wonder if the trees are laughing at me
while I'm wondering if I should look into internships
and getting ready to call my department
like I really believe anything will open back up
in the summer
S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse
a persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma per ciò che giammai di questo fondo
non tornò vivo alcun, s'i' odo il vero,
senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.

Inferno, Canto 27, l 61-66.
  





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Sat Apr 11, 2020 4:09 am
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TheSilverFox says...



1.00 * 10^1: watch out (april 10th)

erasing and writing down and erasing and writing down
a single equation over and over and over again
because I'm afraid to do to the math
what I did to that fence
when I threw that thing
(and for the life of me I can't remember what it was)
and punched a hole through it
S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse
a persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma per ciò che giammai di questo fondo
non tornò vivo alcun, s'i' odo il vero,
senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.

Inferno, Canto 27, l 61-66.
  





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Sat Apr 11, 2020 11:39 pm
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TheSilverFox says...



19, 58, 29, 88, 44, 22: crying over spilled yolk isn't an actual expression but it reminds you of one, and language is all about trying to attach familiar feelings to unfamiliar things (april 11th)

if I'm going to put all my eggs
in one basket, I should check
to make sure it's not the basket
with a hole in the bottom
S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse
a persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma per ciò che giammai di questo fondo
non tornò vivo alcun, s'i' odo il vero,
senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.

Inferno, Canto 27, l 61-66.
  





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Mon Apr 13, 2020 4:12 am
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TheSilverFox says...



3! * 2 * 1: getting a little worried about writing all these semi-autobiographical poems because part of me's convinced that I don't have the imagination to make stuff up like real writers do (april 12th)

I keep throwing myself into papers
and essays and reaction diagrams,
telling myself that it's fine
that my eyes are a little bloodshot
and I can't really wave off that brain fog,
or that I haven't gotten up in hours
to drink some water or go to the bathroom,
because I'll be taking a break soon

Dunno when that break's coming,
but I'm sure I just need to work
a little bit longer
S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse
a persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma per ciò che giammai di questo fondo
non tornò vivo alcun, s'i' odo il vero,
senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.

Inferno, Canto 27, l 61-66.
  





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Mon Apr 13, 2020 4:19 am
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Ventomology says...



Fox please explain the math behind april 11.
"I've got dreams like you--no really!--just much less, touchy-feeley.
They mainly happen somewhere warm and sunny
on an island that I own, tanned and rested and alone
surrounded by enormous piles of money." -Flynn Rider, Tangled
  





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Mon Apr 13, 2020 4:21 am
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TheSilverFox says...



it's the collatz conjecture starting from n = 19
S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse
a persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma per ciò che giammai di questo fondo
non tornò vivo alcun, s'i' odo il vero,
senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.

Inferno, Canto 27, l 61-66.
  





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Tue Apr 14, 2020 3:33 am
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TheSilverFox says...



the square root of 256 minus the square root of 9: if winter would just go away already that'd be nice (april 13th)

I don't like snowclouds -
they always hang low in the sky,
covering up the mountains
(so that I almost forget where I live,
where west is, and where I can find all the hiking trails
that snaked through the hills and into my heart),
making everything feel a little smaller
and a little colder.

when I look up at the sky,
I want to be able to see
Rayleigh scattering over my head,
not watch the gray clouds
and wonder if they'll get a little lighter
or a little darker.

but, in the night, I'll pull up my blinds
and watch the sky light up
in some orange-brown color
I can never find on microsoft paint
(that shouldn't be my reference point,
but it was how I got through art class).
it's a light show that doesn't quite make up
for the moon; a little darker,
yet a little stranger
S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse
a persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma per ciò che giammai di questo fondo
non tornò vivo alcun, s'i' odo il vero,
senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.

Inferno, Canto 27, l 61-66.
  





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Wed Apr 15, 2020 4:22 am
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TheSilverFox says...



det [14 0
____0 1]: technically I've written like 16 poems by now but you're just going to have to take my word that two of them are awful, worse than this one is (april 14th):


I can't write clearly.

I can't write exactly
what I meant to write.


I can't write exactly
what I thought of
in my head.


I can't write exactly
what I was thinking about
because there's always
some little detail
that I'm missing.


I can't write about
the orange spots on budding flowers
or the chirping of songbirds
or how cool water feels to the touch
or what saying hello to a friend looks like
or crowds cheering in a stadium
or the way fire licks at a marshmallow,
because there's always
some little sight or sound or taste or touch or feel
that try as I might I just can't get right,
I can't make what I see in my head
what you see in yours,
and I don't know if I ever could.


I can't write.
S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse
a persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma per ciò che giammai di questo fondo
non tornò vivo alcun, s'i' odo il vero,
senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.

Inferno, Canto 27, l 61-66.
  





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Wed Apr 15, 2020 4:59 am
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Ventomology says...



God Fox that's such a feel. Also I love the text formatting. It's such a fun thing to utilize.
"I've got dreams like you--no really!--just much less, touchy-feeley.
They mainly happen somewhere warm and sunny
on an island that I own, tanned and rested and alone
surrounded by enormous piles of money." -Flynn Rider, Tangled
  





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Wed Apr 15, 2020 5:44 pm
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BluesClues says...



I literally laughed when I read Monday's title, just because it's snowing right now like it's planning on throwing Christmas again. I adore the last lines!

Also: wow, today's hits - all the strikethroughs and angsting about not being able to put into words quite what you mean was me last April trying and failing to write about my grandparents.
  





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Thu Apr 16, 2020 4:40 am
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TheSilverFox says...



15 + 0i: for a poem series vaguely about spring and trying to accept change there's a lot of snowing and stubbornness going on here (april 15th)

I think I've been taking this class too long,
because I'm looking at the keratin strands
running up and down my skin,
the arrangements of phospholipids
to make hydrophobic layers,
how acetyl-CoA and acetoacetyl-CoA
build up and break apart fatty acids,
how my metabolism makes energy
out of fats and proteins and carbohydrates
and anything it can get its metaphorical hands on,
the collagen that holds me together,
the actin and myosin that allow me to type this,
the DNA and RNA that set me in stone
(or, at least the generals of me),
and I'm looking at all these nitrogenous bases
and sulfurs and phosphates and oxides,
and all the carbon that holds them together,
and thinking about how I'm just a graphite pencil
with a few more layers
and a little more attached to me
S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse
a persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma per ciò che giammai di questo fondo
non tornò vivo alcun, s'i' odo il vero,
senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.

Inferno, Canto 27, l 61-66.
  





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Fri Apr 17, 2020 5:06 am
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TheSilverFox says...



the square root of 2^8: I'm not really sure if I want to call this a haiku because I feel like I should've put more effort into this but I'm tired and burned out from homework so here we go I guess (april 17th)

I poked the branches
because the snow would snap them
before it fell off.
S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse
a persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma per ciò che giammai di questo fondo
non tornò vivo alcun, s'i' odo il vero,
senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.

Inferno, Canto 27, l 61-66.
  





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Sat Apr 18, 2020 3:19 am
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TheSilverFox says...



((9 * 9) - (9 * 7)) - 1^9: I was listening to a song on the radio and decided to complain about it, as one does (april 17th)

I don't know why everyone
loves the idea of catching fireflies
and putting them in a jar -
most of you have never seen one before,
and they'll only fit the atmosphere
of your little grungy rooms
when they die there (which they will,
because I doubt you thought for a moment
that you would take care of them).

I don't see why everyone
obsesses over the idea of innocence;
I would rather learn
about everything wrong in the world,
and choose to care anyway,
because it's better than a room
of dead fireflies
and trying to recreate something
that was probably never worth keeping.
S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse
a persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma per ciò che giammai di questo fondo
non tornò vivo alcun, s'i' odo il vero,
senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.

Inferno, Canto 27, l 61-66.
  





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Sun Apr 19, 2020 4:16 am
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TheSilverFox says...



1 * 2 * 3 *3: time to talk about my beef with famous children's book author c.s. lewis, like a rational adult would (april 18th)

cw: death

Spoiler! :
I'm not sure that loving boys
and wearing nylons and lipstick
is a good enough reason
to kill off someone's entire family,
then leave that someone to deal
with the pieces

I guess there's something to be said
about fixating on age and beauty,
sticking numbers onto yourself
and every wrinkle, blemish, or spot
that the world told you
you were supposed to hate about yourself.

Or maybe there's something to be said
about the idea of true love
and searching for a relationship
(any kind, any number, anyone)
to fill some kind of a personal void,
opening door after door after door
when you've never checked to see
what was behind yours.

And maybe that journey should be up to her,
but she shouldn't have to do that alone;
she shouldn't have to wonder
if she should've been there with them,
and she shouldn't have to believe
that their deaths were pointless
(and, well, I can't say I see much of a point
in a universe full of better and better adventures
if you aren't allowed to screw up).
S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse
a persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma per ciò che giammai di questo fondo
non tornò vivo alcun, s'i' odo il vero,
senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.

Inferno, Canto 27, l 61-66.
  





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Mon Apr 20, 2020 4:55 am
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TheSilverFox says...



(d^2/dx^2 (9x^2)) + 1: I feel more awake than I have at any other point today and it's astonishing that I don't really have anything to say (april 19th)

maybe I'd feel a little better
submitting worksheets,
completing quizzes,
reading papers,
and joining in discussions
if I wasn't always looking
to tomorrow
(which usually become today,
because I spend most my nights
watching midnight come and go)
and what all I have to do
then
S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse
a persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma per ciò che giammai di questo fondo
non tornò vivo alcun, s'i' odo il vero,
senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.

Inferno, Canto 27, l 61-66.
  








First you broke my moustache, now you break my heart.
— MaybeAndrew