Young Writers Society

poetry [di~s~c~o~n`e`c~t~e`d] threads

in dedication to @Meshugenah

" squawk "
- muttered in the voice faint as cricket hiccups
a voice, that said, " squawk "

poetic symphony {read: cacophony} / elaborate coincidence of confidence word; unhinged; un-wilderness; written-twice - predictably unamused musings or vice-versa musings unamused except for the exception

four jokes, no punchline, just ironic word twists, until twister becomes tornado; 25 cents lost in cyclones; no gumballs / supply and demand.

earnest thinking - carpet caterpillar; parade of tripping wind, and hush weather rain

for never what; window shopping

8 pm in digital alarm clocks

- calloused walrus from / and type-
times-new-roman, 12 pt font,


whereabouts seventeen feet

lately


(haha Mesh, I loved your poem; see! I told you this thread was fun! here's my most?? random one yet)

If I could be a chicken I would be the very best.
my little tiny chicken feet would build a tiny nest.
I'd sleep all day and cluck all night and lay a lot of eggs
And I'd never let the cow get rest, no matter how she begs.

If I could be an alien I'd be average at most
Saying things like "sneep" and "slorp" to upset Earthling hosts.
Spending time in UFOs and prank calling my dad
And chasing funky asteroids whenever I feel sad.

If I could be a weasel I would be the very worst.
My tiny little gremlin hands could steal stuff unrehearsed.
I'd twist my furry body in the silliest of shapes
And get chased 'round the berry bush by crazed but kindly apes.

lasagna is bad. microwaves are bad.
so microwave lasagna makes me very sad
and it's made worse by the cinnamon spice
that stings my eyes and makes things not so nice.

so i slow-cook sweet potatoes and hope for the best,
then i wipe my eyes and go off on a quest
to find that soccer ball on the roof that i yoted.
see, this is a poem. it’s bad but i wrote it.

Being human is overrated.
I wish I was a dog instead.
Can’t wait to share more --
babooka.

Mighty chicken power rangers

The wonder of the red,
Feathers and all,
The jock of the team,
The can do it all.

Now we cannot forget,
The pink little pearl,
Of feathers and sarcasm,
A true valley girl.

And what of the bird,
With glasses on its beak,
The smarty pants blue,
The high school geek?

And of course there’s the yellow,
As bright as the lights,
Nothing to fear,
Nothing except heights.

And last but not least,
The bird dressed in black,
Known to some as a hero,
And to others as Zack.

Good food is all that matters,
Lots of bacon on platters and platters,
Roasty toasty bread with butter in splatters,
La la la la la la la la la yummatters

in honor of social month, I was tasked to write three haikus. I present to you those amazing haikus c:

harry, what does that mean
hairy? no, not right spelling
and what is hardy?

winter, wow, so cold
please no more winter for me
you can have it all

Silver, but not gold
because gold would not work well
with night. gold night? nah

three guesses on who these were for xD

Poem.
Poem.
Poem.
You all love my poem!

(It's an abstract piece of excellence. )

This story isn't an interesting one.
"In fact it's hardly even a story at all."
"In fact I'm not even sure it's a sentence,
or a line, or a--
Wait. Let's get back to the beginning here.
I'm sure there was a headline
somewhere that told us where to go.
Only old salted fish get to swim up to the top of the billboard.
And complain about not being noticed enough.
"I don't understand it, I just don't understand it at all."
It's raining cats and dogs.
We tried making sense of it, charting a no-ways path between
the balance of Good and Evil. We made books out of it,
we made chickens. But then
somehow the severing sticks said "Slow down" to the carpenters
and we grew impatient, or Impatience grew us.
I don't know .
I don't know .
I don't know ..
We continued the sentence for Confusion
and made ourselves the prisoners
of a railway track to nowhere. Counting infinite
billboards where the reek of fish and the yellow
of tumeric used to flavour these preserves
became paint, became bottles of dishwasher.
They said there was a line between Us and Them,
and that we had to reel it in, before the tilapia escaped.
Before we escaped and became people.
"The stories are never about us, the stories
are always about you. The stories are never about you,
the stories are always about us."
So where do we go from here? The line between
the line between the horizon?
I'm sorry. This isn't an interesting story.
In fact, it is hardly a story at all.

abecedarians are
best written with brave hearts and
calm planning beforehand or else
disasters can decidedly occur
especially when one gets to those extreme letters later in the alphabet
failure becomes fairly inevitable as you rush with
haste to figure how you're going to
inject the next word into the line you may
jump with logic and jumbled grammar just to
keep things going along
lima beans
maybe you'll even throw in random words but
no matter what keep going seriously, take note,
only a few will read each line so it's probably okay
poets after-all can always pretend
questionable word choices were moments of ~high quality artistic flair~
rather than miscalculated random word choices
stuck into seriously
terrible places and
unfortunate line breaks can be
vexing vices, but also
with a bit of careful wording and creativity can be
explained rather expertly as
yet another instance of
zesty enjambment or other long poetry words that people will nod and accept.

hopefully this is
a haiku. five, seven, and...
i need more coffee.

--

once upon a time,
i ate a bowl of limes.
and... AH! THEY WERE SOUR!

so -- actually,
it's like, kind of...
well, here's the thing
it's just that everything is very
i don't know exactly what the word is
but trust me when i say
in reality, i promise
it's ultimately very wishy-washy.

This poem I wrote for @FireEyes for Social Month freindshippoems deserves to be preserved ~ so here it is ! Trying some ~new experimental~ formatting techniques.


FIRE ~ EYES / /
_____________zip zop zoop

firey firey sparks


fire glowing

zoop zop zip

__________________FIRE

My feelings are all askew
They control me
more than I control them.

My bad decisions?
blame them on my emotions.

wht s ptry?
s t mx f crtvty nd pn?
thnk ts jst hrd wrk,
nd sm vwls.