Young Writers Society

I sleep on the left
with my head held tight
against the pillows
which collect my dreams.
Like gravity seems to believe
if I'm on my right, I need only
one nose to be free
so when morning comes
and my nose runs
it's always the left which can breathe

it's all soft breezes and quiet leaves
that float from limb to ground
swirling baking and last nights laundry
into cool relief against orange skies
and a sun trying too hard to be felt
though a wind that almost stings

it's not all peaceful, but it is content
to be.

I took a canoe straight out from shore yesterday
and rowed to where the message in bottles congregate.
I found a colony that belonged to a girl
who sat on a beach and wrote letter after letter to him,
but sent the papers out to sea where he would never find them.

She was shouting to him in the wrong direction.
She wanted her heart to hear but not him.

a kayak out from shore -- straight
like a shot of something --

to the place where the messages in bottles congregate.

there were hundreds of them,
hundreds with the same name at the top,

sent out like a slingshot pulled back
but never released.

a kayak out to the place where messages in bottles congregate;
hundreds with the same name at the top: slingshots pulled back but never released.

Sometimes I feel like I have the luck
Not unlike Mr. Scrooge McDuck

To die is to escape the prison of reality,
but to live is to destroy the said prison.

(Totally have no idea how to change my thoughts into a poem XD)

Sheer force, she said, will lead us straight
along the highway--if you can drive
fast enough, maybe--into oblivion.

And Afterwards? he asked, eyes hesitant,
cheekbones cutting through
his face like knives--his irises:
pale, like moons coated
with New York city smoke.
And she touched his jaw like she hoped
to blow the dust off his features.

After that, we cartwheel into wherever it takes us.

(In grade school, she had learnt that hydrogen
was more than a fuel, that the atmosphere
was always keener to see you past the skyline.)

Well, he said, if you're sure.

(She did not tell him that although
the sky will love you when you leave,
it always curses those who come back
with fire!whiplash to the skin.)

Our lives scattered like silken thread frogged from woven treasures
scattered by trampling feet across the worlds we weave upon
etching ourselves into the mud
hiding our native glory
our eternal shimmering shine.

We sink forgotten relics in the great lakes
and algae grows upon us in groups of tens and twelves
clinging its wicked teeth upon our backs
and tailing bit upon bit upon itself anchored to us
and anchoring us through our new slimy coat
unlike the smooth glimmer of our former selves.

Aging is like a coral reef
the old die and solidify to stone
the new sprout upon it throwing tendrils to the wind
and shrinking back from whirring tides.

For I have fallen
Into the trap
Created by Hannah
And I thought
"Crap."

midnight kicks in at two a.m. with

your head against my shoulder, television
a muted sepia amidst colourings of rain,
and wind, and frost, and sleet, and downpour and--
weather vanes learning to dance. you whisper to me
that this is madness,
that the sky is torrential,
that it has been two days and the moon
refuses to kiss the atmosphere to sleep.

and it is true
that the sea and the sky are wild tonight,
but maybe
they are but lovers.

i tell this to my now-empty cup of coffee; both you
and the rain have fallen asleep.

my collywobbles burst through
the pit of my stomach when my eyes
see your eyes

they explode into a thousand tiny tingles
which crawl up my spine and around
my ribcage and arrive at my heart

you arrive at my heart

I happened upon here by accident,
There's little to no chance I will get out,
Without rhyming words and vivid imagery,
Posted upon a wall.

(I left without making a poem, so I'll write two.)

1
my hands are over the keyboard
i had escaped once before
my breath is coming out faster
guilt rages through my veins
as i make up for the last time

2

Roses are red
my jeans are blue
hey this poem
is something new