Young Writers Society

Home » Forums » Creativity Corner » Writing Activities

The "I wrote a poem, but don't need reviews" thread



User avatar
33 Reviews



Gender: None specified
Points: 147
Reviews: 33
Sat Jan 23, 2021 3:44 pm
rida says...



AustereMelodies wrote:Its not about the hate.

And it can't be about the joy of things.

"You don't care for all the world."

The answer is: we can't.

We are but one person.

And it takes a village

to raise a child.

So imagine how many people

must stand together

to end all this pain.

Then look around

and ask yourself

what you are willing to lose

so that others might gain.


Is this from “a series of unfortunate events?”
  





User avatar
123 Reviews



Gender: Female
Points: 9640
Reviews: 123
Fri Feb 05, 2021 6:22 pm
View Likes
Liminality says...



understanding_empathy.txt

>> it is always one-sided
>> deep beneath thoughts
>> you feel it brimming
>> don't you?
>> YES / NO
>> very well
>> i feel it brimming
>> beneath deep thoughts
>> my empathy is one-sided
>> black-and-white interface
>> expendable character
>> in suit and tie
>> has a million and one hands
. . . to kiss and make up with
so that the people with feelings
will never have to feel responsible
for the domino fall of binary numbers.
01 . . . 11 . . . 10
    Here for the in-betweens and the left-behinds, the unconsidered,
    the out-of-this-world.

  • Pronouns? Any, to be honest!
  • I spend a sizeable chunk of my time in Poem a Week and the Worst Poem thread.
  • You can also come yell at me in WFPs.
  





User avatar
126 Reviews

Supporter


Gender: Female
Points: 9791
Reviews: 126
Mon Feb 08, 2021 2:04 am
View Likes
Carina says...



Spoiler! :
word barfed this sappy poem in a pad today and didn't mind it, so i thought i'd dump it here :p

time seems to melt from one day to the next -
over and over, the people and places blur together.
but one memory stays constant:
    you.
some people say "i love you"
but i don't need to hear the words
to know it is true —
from little touches to
the hidden smiles for when
i want to leave and escape —
from the goodbye kisses while i sleep,
to the breakfast in bed to wake me up —
why do i need to hear the words
when you invisibly tell me
    everyday?

we met seven years ago, now.
and the first thing you said to me —
    "will you be my hydrogen?"
as you slid a chemistry sheet my way.
a blank paper, with one element still unclaimed:
the first of the periodic table,
the number one,
the building block of the universe.
my answer now is the same, and always will be
across the universe, across time, across space —
    "i will be your hydrogen, always."
chaotic lazy
—Vincian

the queen of memes
—Yoshikrab

secret supreme overlord of yws
—Tuckster

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 5/5
—Anonymous Yelp Review
  





User avatar



Gender: Female
Points: 499
Reviews: 4
Tue Feb 23, 2021 3:04 am
View Likes
ayelenwritesstuff says...



innocuous conversations
one topic leads to another
you crack a cruel joke about me
what were you hoping for?
acceptance, validation, solidarity?
well, it worked
they're all laughing
but
not
me
your dismissal of my hurt tears the wound further
and
it's just a joke
lighten up
take a joke
is like placing a rag on a gash
oozing with pain
as joke after joke bores deeper and deeper



but when you finally realize the struggle you caused
it will be nothing but a scar
you can't change a scar
scars are
forever



sorry this suckssss
:smt051
  





User avatar



Gender: Female
Points: 499
Reviews: 4
Tue Feb 23, 2021 3:07 am
ayelenwritesstuff says...



getting major monika ddlc vibes from this :P I like it a lot!!
  





User avatar
123 Reviews



Gender: Female
Points: 9640
Reviews: 123
Sat Mar 06, 2021 2:56 pm
Liminality says...



Problems I have with Technique and not Totality

People crush sunflowers
too large to fit
in a jean pocket.

Yellow ochre dye
that weighs as heavy as
things you say, but don't mean,
things you mean, but don't say.

Sometimes I think you expect
what you're not willing to give.
Sometimes I think you lie
when you say you've given anything.

Reaching into my skull with those
leafhopper fingers, implanting the seeds
of doubt that I can ever be right about something
without your consent.

You grow vines connecting the wrong dots,
forcing us to think in fragments,
to preach in broken stems
disconnected from the roots
of practice.
    Here for the in-betweens and the left-behinds, the unconsidered,
    the out-of-this-world.

  • Pronouns? Any, to be honest!
  • I spend a sizeable chunk of my time in Poem a Week and the Worst Poem thread.
  • You can also come yell at me in WFPs.
  








A snowball in the face is surely the perfect beginning to a lasting friendship.
— Markus Zusak, The Book Thief