Young Writers Society

dearly beloved -
doesn't the sun seem brightest in the early morning,
just before the day truly breaks;
(this little-terrible-time they call 'night'
and 'death' and all this space 'in-between' then and now)
i want you to know i have loved you
from every edge of time
and have seen, yes, the sun never fades
we only learn to avert our gaze -
until at-last we can see Him face to face
and so i can promise you
tomorrow we'll meet again.

+

Hopefully unnecessary to note this is meant to be a satirical commentary on how women are sometimes expected to manage their emotions and problems, and how sometimes we tend to each other in very cosmetic ways, rather than assisting each other in a way that truly acknowledges our burdens.

I visit a lot of people on hospice, and it always strikes me how often our physical appearance is something so painstakingly managed our whole life, that sometimes even in midst of death - people can be consumed with shame over their own or their loved ones' appearance. It is important and an act of compassion to assist people who are ill or dying maintain their dignity - but let's not pretend that tending to the outer appearance of a body is the same as tending to a soul or a replacement for such.

If I am drowning, please don't worry too much about fixing my hair.

alliyah, this is so powerful! The satire is strong and the deeper message hits deep.

i felt the irresistible urge to run home and grab my hair-dryer to offer her / it's the least i can do for my fellow-womankind / lest any man see her in revulsion in such a state

Just wow, that really touched me! What an important topic to touch on and you did it fabulously. I love the layout of this, using the / to separate thoughts. Is this a certain type of poetry? Or what inspired you to format it that way?

Thank you for your sweet comments @EllieMae <3

I've seen this form in a lot of modern poets recently (in last couple years) - it's just a form of paragraph poetry. Borrowing from poetry-analysis and poetry-reviews which often will use slashes to indicate a line break. The NY times actually has an interesting article about it -> https://www.nytimes.com/2020/12/29/book ... ation.html where one of the poets that uses such technique says that line breaks feel like a punctuation mark in themselves; and so intra-line breaks are another type of pause that allow for a different break-up of thoughts. For me I like the idea of not getting bogged down by the evenness / unevenness of line breaks, and allowing a different type of reading - that allows for a more narrative way of reading.

Glad you liked the message too! I've been thinking a lot about learned shame surrounding bodies / death / illness / aging recently; so that was my inspiration!

TEXT:
ChatGPT is an AI system designed to
[attempt to] comprehend & communicate
"human" language in a precise and genuine manner

But poetry is neither precise nor truly genuine ...
isn't poetry the thin space between the sky & the sun

poetry is that slippery form of bending reality in metaphor
where we realize what truth is.

- a human

Omg! This is so good! Your formatting was super creative, and I absolutely love and agree with the message behind it. This is so clever! <33

PLAIN TEXT VERSION:
my mother taught me to garden
the summer i did not make the volleyball team
i was devastated in that horrible-sun-is-falling way
that a teenager wants so desperately to be loved - and
realizes all at once the world is cruel and she is so very unloveable -
of course the volleyball girls with their elegant string-bean arms,
and high pony-tails, and inside jokes, did not love me -
i felt like the most despicable, hideous weed, torn from the ground -
full of other flowers; all mocking my awkward attempt to be included.

my mother told me there'd be other chances;
as we plucked one wilted tomato plant, to pat down the next -
'the sun's bright today, isn't it?' she would ask me every day
as the wind howled, as the peppers bloomed, as the ground became
more sanctuary than hostile-battle-field, and gradually
as she swept back the sweat on her brow with dirt-covered-hand,
as she pointed out the sun, again and again and again,
as the uneven rows became quietly harvest-filled,
as she pruned the dead, while propping up the living,

in the tender way, only a mother can tell you the truth; truly -
i realized i was not dying; i was only growing.

PLAIN TEXT VERSION:
i let your name hide in everything i touch;
(it sounds familiarly distant, like the tune i do not know,
but am always humming to myself as i walk)
i am planting your name like wildflower seeds; unhindered and
everywhere - hoping you'll hear, and you'll remember me -
i don't really hope that you'll respond anymore,
surely the summer doesn't hope the sycamore tree remembers her,
all these months later, when the leaves fall, when the snow settles,
(i am only fleeting, only a daydream, only a song whispered by the wind)
but wouldn't it be nice if the earth let our memories meet,
if all the span of time allowed the past to peak out at times,
quiet and gentle, forgiving and old and somehow new,
if in this vast field of grass, a burgundy wildflower claimed the ground.

author note: ~ not about romantic love, but about the friends we love and lose track of, but kind of wish we could find again. In an age of connection, where it is hard to be lost (because of social media, technology, phones), is it somehow sadder when we lose track of people? when they disappear? when seasons pass... Maybe somewhere they remember too?

Heyo alliyah! Sorry it’s taken so long for me to comment on your thread! I’ve really enjoyed following along - I feel like you’re adding some new elements to your poems with the flower imagery and bee imagery. Poem 10 was a really interesting use of tone and dissonance as well. I made notes on these comments way back in early April, but didn’t have the chance to flesh them out until now. I just wanted to leave some comments before NaPo is over (IRL is super busy at the moment and realistically I’ll probably be revisiting NaPo threads to comment only in June xP)

>> 3. tending gardens full of hindsight

Combining the motifs of a garden and a cemetery is really so interesting. This poem conveys the sense of this other person ‘haunting’ the addressee so well.


>> 4. holding close, for safe-keeping

and i know i don't need it, but i love the little stain at the edge, and
i love each bent corner of a memory;

^ The specificity of the image, the little details of the recipe-card, really make this part special.

i called her seven times this week, and it's only tuesday -

^ Love this line!

but because my hand always instinctively curls around the objects in my pocket

^ And love how it develops!

>> 6. there's this little part of me, i can't quite leave

I like the idea in this poem and the refrain “there’s this little part of me/ i can’t quite trim . . . “. I feel like it reflects the gardening/ flowers motif in this thread and also feels sort of small and domestic, which makes the second half of the poem where it becomes much bigger (e.g. “spot becoming a stain”) more unexpected and interesting.

alliyah omg 16 is so amazing!! and the title feels like a poem in itself! " to touch, to say hello,
then leaves her with less, and less, and less
every time" because the he in this is like a siphon!! you are such a great poet, keep it up! *high five*