Young Writers Society

On April 1, 2024, The Young Writer's Society ceased to exist and was transformed into the Young Vegetable Society. Announcement here.. Naturally, I had to acknowledge this in my first poem of the month. I am going to try to be more obnoxious about describing any prompts/links that I use as inspo, after having found so many broken links in my old NaPos.

I just love this poem:] In such a creative way, you described the loss of creativity. It's so beautiful and simply.. flawless . I look forward to reading more from you!

hey nite! i love your poetry so far. your second poem is my favorite so far. i think it's the perfect poem to post on yws, seeing as we're all writers who have struggled with creativity and inspiration. the ending message is beautiful; how beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and what authors think is their worst work might end up helping someone else. i can't wait to read more of your poetry; good luck with the rest of your napo!

Eager to read your thread again this year nite, your's is always one of my favorites to follow. Poem two "inertia" I think perfectly describes the struggle of NaPo writing process (at least, I certainly can relate to it!) just trying to get one word out and then not really sure about if it works or not, but slowly working through the month.

Just write. One word after
Another. That’s how it starts.

Yes!

Looking forward to following along with you! You've got this!

context for my future self/anyone else who's curious. There was a total solar eclipse on Monday April 8, 2024. My area was like 98% totality, and I really should have planned better to see totality, but I did not. Figured if I did it would probably just be cloudy/the traffic would be terrible (from what I've heard, traffic was terrible but Ohio was relatively not cloudy and even pics I have seen from cloudy areas are pretty flipping cool. Ah well.

Thanks @alliyah! Sorry to disappoint this year, I'm basically "no thoughts just vibes" this year. No idea what to write or how to write it and prompts are just meh to me.

I love the honesty in these poems and in your efforts. <3 It really resonates with me because it's a lot about what I've been feeling, but not voicing, about writing, and that strikes a chord.
I like the consideration that this "Is not the way to make her sing again" in 6.
I also loved the way you talked about not seeing the eclipse -- it was really poignant in its own right. <3 The repetition at the end really brought it home.
Thanks for bringing us your poems this April, even if it's a different process than it might have been in the past!

Thanks @Que! I feel like winning April Madness last year, as awesome as it was, made me feel pressured to repeat the feat this year and write something amazing and it’s just…not happening. So I wrote this about that feeling. But then it got away from me a bit. Lots of mixed metaphors. And then I started working in other things: the last stanza was inspired by this story I read about an older female basketball player who’s claiming that Caitlin Clark beating her record for something “doesn’t really count” because…idk reasons, may need to look this up later. Edit: link to article

Yes, I am aware the claim that malaria has killed half of all people who have ever lived is basically nonsense, but mosquitos are not known for their fact-checking abilities.

Prompt was from the poetic line generator: "the insects above you hurt beneath the surface"

Loosely based on a true story. So, as you might or might not know, I have bipolar disorder, but it's pretty well controlled with meds. Like most doctors, my former psychiatrist switched to telehealth after COVID hit. He's also old as dirt, so we didn't do Zoom, just phone calls, which is fine enough. What was not fine was that our appointments were nominally on Monday evenings, but for some reason he would just call at some random time on the Saturday or Sunday before. Luckily, I'm pretty stable so our appointments weren't too intense, but it always caught me off guard and was super irritating. One day as I was complaining about this to my therapist (who was at the same practice), she said that he did this to other clients as well and she said the same thing: "Why are you answering?" Literally a few weeks after we have this conversation, my friend and I go to the Van Gogh exhibit and...guys. He literally called while I was in line at the gift shop. I didn't answer, but I really should have just for the lulz.

Last line references this painting, which Van Gogh painted while in an asylum. This was actually part of the exhibit.

It’s another sunken Thursday night
I’m falling asleep to morning bird cries
Don’t know what I should do with my life
Since I let it fade, yeah I let it fade

I’m a woman born ugly, a force invisible
Would life have been better if I was born asexual?
Never noticed cute boys, never tried to dance with them,
Never crushed on a girl, oh my god what’s happening

But it’s all stale day dreams in my mind
I’m an unmasked phantom haunting the sidelines
Don’t worry, you’ll never hear me cry
‘Cause I’m fine, swear to god I’m fine
Just want to die in the morning light,
don’t know if anything’s worth the fight

But with morning coffee, thoughts of death fade.
This happens every single day.
I don’t know why I never change.