Young Writers Society

poem #95: is it possible

how is it possible
to not keep secrets?
our deepest, darkest thoughts
told, vulnerable to the whole world?

is it possible to confess our deepest feelings to parents
and walk off feeling great?
is it possible to confess all feelings
when you have so many?

and they are the most vulnerable
daring part of you?
daring other people to pick at them
and say they aren't real?

is it possible
to not cry every day
or have a roller coaster of emotions
trying to throw you off

with all of the crazy, horrible things
going on in the world
that we shouldn't be exposed to
yet can't hide from anymore?

poem #96: squirrel (a cinquain)

squirrel
jumping, balancing, eating
sadly, they are hibernating
mammals

poem #97: silence

fragile
delicate
uninterrupted
silence

never leaving the room
that i sit in waiting
for life to begin
like rapunzel from tangled.

when will my life begin
and when can I leave silence behind me?
as a distant memory of the past
as unnoticed as silence itself.

poem #99: houses

we drive past little houses
sideyards lined with neat, trimmed hedges
clean cut grass
and white picket fences.

we continue driving.
the yards are full of weeds
dirty children playing on worn tire swings
in the front yard

with overgrown bushes
peeling paint
rusty cars
and a feeling of emptiness when the people with the nice houses drive by.

but we pull into a driveway
and make lemonade.
it is perfect.
we don't need fancy yards or anything.

we need the people we love.

poem #100: magic

some people say
that it is wands
and being able to fly
without anything supporting you

that is some kind of magic
but true magic is
knowing that you belong
having people who love you

and letting yourself be governed by your own rules
rather than others rules and
knowing that you can be yourself
and not be teased or hurt

knowing that you can
follow your passion
and wanting to burst with joy
magic can be wands and levitating

but that is from storybooks
magic is true happiness
being with people who love you
and not having to think about getting hurt.

poem #101: feeling empty because i have everything I need

i put my shoes on
but i feel empty inside
i do not know why

poem #102: coca cola bottles

dusty
light green
glass inscribed
coca cola bottles

sitting on the top shelf
of the old garage
waiting to be discovered
cleaned, dust wiped off

a century or so later

poem #103: water balloons

it is a hot summer day
the sun beating down on our backs
and the air as dry as a bone
but we are throwing water balloons

exploding in mid-air
others dropped on the grass
most hitting us in the face
splattering all over us

and we get soaked to the skin
and soon the yard is full
of little, exploded balloon pieces
waiting to be picked up by the kids whose mom just told them too.

poem #104: cruelty

I can't find out
no one can say
when the cruelty came here
when it will go away

I've tried to chase it
but it spreads like a germ
and i couldn't keep up with it
if i ran to the ends of the earth without stopping

because it travels
in so many different directions
just out
of my reach.

poem #105: prineville (part 1) (probably the 50th poem about it but...)

on the treetop
looking out
at the bright orange sun
setting behind the mountains.

the smell of juniper
in the cold air
turns noses
bright red

gathering round
the campfire
faces lit by the ghostly
glow of the fire against the night sky

poem #106: prineville (part 2)

getting around
the dinner table
chatter and the smell
of barbecue filling the air

later the moon
lighting the way
to run through
sagebrush and juniper.

poem #107: prineville (part 3)

bright little stars come out
lighting the way
for us little children
to play.

poem #108: lacking inspiration

i don't know what to write
my hands are tied tight
i have no inspiration
and i am working on a deadline

Imma continue to update this thread this year

out of napo poem #1: haiku

sitting on the wall
peacefully watching the world
a warm, gentle breeze