Young Writers Society

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Poem 6 | Day Six

they're even laughing at me when they're not there

faint giggling wind
snorts by leaves and smirking trees
mocked by the silence

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Poem 7 | Day Seven

the sapling was arguably more free than the tree

many times when
I think of my old self
i remember that the younger me
did not care as much as me
she didn't care who was in the seat next to her
or what she revealed about herself
and she didn't regret every
(how do i say this?)
single
(is that the wrong phrasing?)
wrong
(oh god that sounds mean)
decision
(i'm sorry this is depressing)
she made
sometimes i envy her
because i could always go back to being that
but would people let me?
would i let me?

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Poem 8 | Day Eight

sometimes i hate how you don't care

perhaps we are friends because
we are very similar
not in our interests
but how we act
they giggle at you when you are a little too excited
and exchange grinning looks at each other
when you take something too seriously
just like they do to me
we both spew out things
for people to laugh the color of their skin off
they try to hide it
but I think you know about it
and you just laugh it off
as if it's nothing
which it is
and that's how we're different
i care that it's wrong
but you dust it off your shoulder
like it's a silly mistake
which it isn't
and i realize
that you are just who i used to be
carefree and careless
and i wish i was you
but i also hate how you act

Um Woah!!! I love the concept of poem 3 - very creative and impactful form - wonderful execution of a cool idea! Also really enjoyed the premise of comparison between the tree and the sapling in poem 7 - you're doing great!

Keep up the good work! Looking forward to reading more!

i

Poem 9 | Day Nine

Eclipses cause Apocalypses

Maybe we are all stars in the sky
shining, plastered up high.
We lay in the dark night bed
only to be seen when you lift up your head.
Sometimes we are the sun,
spreading warmth until the day is done;
And others are the moon
reflecting our light like a silver spoon.
Sometimes the moon blocks out our light
plunging the Earth in a chilly night,
no light by the dandelion glare,
no light by the stone gray flare.
And at those times of cold,
there is one minute of darkness to uphold.
But after the eclipse’s time has passed,
you find yourself still steadfast,
shining, giving off warm rays
a generous warmth that will be always.
Each one of us is a twinkling star,
our light shows just who we are.

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Poem 10 | Day Ten

'tis the season to be cloudy

Paper white, fluffy clouds
floating above the chaos of the earth
in misty bliss.
In some ways, we are much like them.
The clouds glide in tiny steps
across the sky, blue as a baby blanket
that can hug you gently or suffocatingly.
They collect and release water
for hard rains and harsh snowstorms
or tender drizzles and fluffy snowfall.
And there is always the flash of lightning
and the bolt of electric anger.
They move ever so slowly,
in hopes they can go many miles
over many cities and farmlands
without dissipating into the atmosphere
where there is simply air
and the border to the vacuum of space.
And most of all, the clouds look light and free,
but they are heavy, especially carrying water
but no one really considers that,
or even cares
that clouds do that much.

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Poem 11 | Day Twelve - Makeup for 11

clear skies

no more cotton clouds
sun shines to every corner
yet I feel heavy

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Poem 12 | Day Thirteen - Makeup for 12

milk

i blurt out surfeit
like a knocked glass of white milk
lingers; from a fault

Poem 13 | Day Thirteen

first impressions

you have charm bracelets
and dyed streaks with cool sneakers
i assume you're nice