Young Writers Society

4.1.2022
#1
april is frogs in chorus until you cannot tell where they end and the grasshoppers begin

#2
late night rehearsals to early morning tutoring

late night dissonance we can’t quite decipher
(why do composers insist on the worst notes in the worst combinations and then demand pianissimo?0
leads to early morning teaching on why a Bb against an A is meant to resolve two beats later and reminds me why i still play
(and why i can’t quite bring myself to hate teaching, even when i cannot sleep for exhaustion)

#3
spring is toowarm days and freezing nights
(that three months ago would see us laughing
as we happily brunched just above freezing
three stories up in the wind)

#4
5am is the witching hour of notyetrisen suns and potential brimming to overflowing in the semicool night that hasn’t quite let go in realization that sun will overcome in hopes the asphalts remembered warmth won’t translate in to unbearable heat before midday takes flight.

#5
i was ten the first time i stepped into a church and all i was was disappointed because nothing i read or knew had prepared me for how plain the building was.

i was nineteen when i saw a church older than my native country (as much as anyone who is half a diaspora can such a concept), half-drowned in tide water creeping up for centuries to cover tile and mosaic work distorted by ripples from multiple sources (current and the vibration of hundreds of feet all stepping on planks just barely above the rising water) and between the uneven lighting and stale air i found that sense of grandeur; it was set aside twice after, in the acoustics of a deep cave that echoed with chill and minor chords that could only be produced by a group of student musicians left to their own devices and the tiny church atop a hill that closed its doors to snow in april that didn’t keep out the cold but let music shake the rafters twenty feet above and rendered tuning moot

#6
it must be april:
it’s too hot to want matzo ball soup

#7
if my life were written in a minor key, maybe i would be more interesting.


#8
*if dreams are like movies, then what do you do with a lack thereof?




*half a lyric stolen from counting crows

#9
i exist in a space between stark reality and unrealised soulmate tropes layered with at least three others for spice that hasn’t been seen since before my first degree was printed

#10
i remember when all the lights went in
and my cozy two lane road became
commute hell between learning to speak
and learning to drive
(the second to last light went in between
my license being issued and my brother
getting a permit -
the last when i moved home for grad school)
and tonight the freeway was shut down again
with what no one will confirm was another
highway shooting -
i miss my cozy two lane, no light road
before insanity moved in.

MESH we were waiting for the matzo ball soup to come out though!

I like the musings while driving vibes I'm getting with some of these like 10, 2, 4 also like the whole idea of the 5am witching hour like I already told you! There's something very poetic about street-watching/thinking.

Also poem 9 !! "i exist in a space between stark reality and unrealised soulmate tropes layered with at least three others for spice that hasn’t been seen since before my first degree was printed" just the whole thing; and the idea of "unrealised soulmate tropes" oof.

Enjoying reading along with you; keep poeting!

#11
it must be april:
stifling heat yesterday,
rain by monday

Hi @Meshugenah! I like the irony/ humour on #7 -- as someone who has no clue about music, I do like the idea of minor key having such a big impact. Your April poems are also really fun. I enjoy the one about soup and the one about weather very much.

#5 is also really fascinating - I like the depiction of change and contrasts between the churches, one too plain and the other almost too interesting.

Great work with NaPo!

I can't decide if 13 and 14 are entirely separate, part of a series, or what. I'm thinking I'll leave them as separate for now, but I may change my mind later.

#12
sometimes, i dream i am not just out of sync and only out of tune, but tuning can’t replace an inability to feel to an unconducted beat.

#13
we are the lost generation:
hidden behind screens because what we inherited can’t be undone and the next ones up blame us when we still can’t unbury the piles dumped on us by the apathy of everyone who came before
(while the few who were lucky enough to inherit from the successful do their best to ice out the rest)

#14
we are the lost generation:
we know our worth and are simply done with the expectations of the world.

#15
it must be april:
it’s starting to feel like desert, again.

#16
it can be lonely on this side of a found family, when you’re not sure you even rank as the comedic relief.

#17
the difference between 11pm and 5am is the space between refusing to leave the house and being willing to run alone.

#18
ghosts burning
we grew up on ghost stories that were never real

houses are only as haunted as you believe them
(my belief gets stronger when the sun sets and cannot light away the shadows that form in shapeless entities, echoing nails scurrying across floorboards and wings that cut through the air)