Young Writers Society

Introducing: The 'Best of YWS' Poetry Collection, 2023 Edition!

Your resident poetry mods want to celebrate all of the incredible poetry that's been written this year with a site-wide poetry collection! After we've received your beautiful poems, we'll put together a PDF that you will be able to print off and share with your friends, if you so choose!

If you've written any poetry this year, or plan to write any poetry this year - even just a single poem - then keep on reading.



What does 'best' poetry mean? Best is subjective, isn't it?
Best is subjective! For this collection, 'best' can mean whatever you want it to. You get to choose your favourite poem (that you've written this year) to submit - and it's not a competition, so there's no need to meet any specific criteria in terms of form, length, or technical quality. If you're not sure which of your poems to submit, you can ask a poetry mod for help and we'd be happy to go through your poetry and offer some suggestions!

Submitting a Poem
Simply respond to this thread with the text of the poem or an image of the poem if you'd like to preserve complicated formatting. You'll also need to provide a title and an author name. The author name can be your username, a pen name, your first name, etc. - but please do not share your full name unless you are 18 or over.

The Rules and Guidelines

• Poems must be PG-13. That means no vulgarity, strong curse words, sexual content, or violence.
• Poems must not contain offensive or hateful themes. Poems that promote ableism, racism, sexism, homophobia, or any other form of discrimination will not be accepted.
• If you wish to submit your poem as an image to preserve formatting, please stick to Times New Roman as the font and avoid using any colours. Text and any accompanying visuals/graphics must be black and white.
• Poems must have been written in 2023. You may only submit a poem that you have written yourself.
• You may submit up to three poems for consideration, but only one will be selected for the collection.

Submission Deadline
Submissions are open from now until Friday, November 10th. The Poetry Crew's goal is to have the collection edited and put together in time for the New Year!

After submissions are closed, we may contact you with some editing suggestions for your poem. This could include things like catching any typos or inconsistent style. You are, of course, able to decline these suggestions if you don't like them! It's your poetry, after all.

Complementary Poetry Jams
That's right! PCrew is going to be holding some poetry jams and poetry readings from now until November - the perfect opportunity for you to craft a new poem for the collection or edit an old one! You're more than welcome to just come hang out for the vibes, too. The more the merrier!

The Legal Stuff
If your piece is chosen for the collection, you, the author, retain all publishing rights for the poem. By submitting your piece, you agree to having your poem reproduced in our final PDF and distributed on Young Writers Society.

All poems and art remain intellectual property of the original author and may not be reproduced for commercial purposes without original author permission. Poems may not be reproduced without proper attribution to original author used.

Questions? Ask below!

Excited for this project! Here is my submission!

Title: Crafting Chickens
Author Name: Liminality

Poem:

The kids in the yard knew a chicken could be
a paper plate, white, and perfectly
circular. A single black dot for an eye,
the cut-out wings waved hello and goodbye,
attached by a spot of clear glue.

The boy in the grey shirt ran up to me,
to show off the chicken in one hand, while he
with the other, ate cheese and potato wedges
without getting oil on the pearly paper edges.
And the graphic on his shirt was a chicken, too.

Maybe the wire fences and short city trees
had gotten to them, how they were pleased
with featherless chickens, flightless poultry.
Maybe this was the power of imagery:
how chickens could be anything
and still be chickens.

Ooh I will treasure this collection when it's finished!! =D

Author: Spearmint

I couldn't choose between these three, so I'll let you wonderful poetry mods make the decision instead xD

Title: Buffering


Title: Atoms


Title: Old Books

Title: Never Ask a Writer This
Author: Kaia Jersaga

Describe your crush, you say.
My eyes move to him,
In his corner of the gym.
He looks so dirty. That's okay.

No words does he ever speak.
His favorite thing is snacks.
That, and undisturbed naps.
He has quite a mean streak.

But he's the cutest little dude.
Four fuzzy pink paws,
Two beady black eyes,
One fluffy little tail,
Two needle-like teeth,
Oh, he's just begging for food!

Describe your crush.
Again? Okay, your call.
My eyes move to the wall.
My imagination is the brush.

He's my purple gemstone.
Purple streak in soft black hair,
Prettiest brown eyes, I will dare.
He and me, we're never alone.

He's not real, but if he were...
Five, four, sweet, and kind,
Quiet, youthful-not a man,
Refuge he can never find,
From the evil things I plan.
He's my recognizable character!

No, I don't need a real crush.
Me, my hamster, and imagination.
We're close enough to that sensation.
I don't need that romantic rush.

Title: these hands of mine
Author: Lovestrike

I wish I could unburn the fire
that came coursing down the canyon

part flames like a crimson sea,
re-erect each timber,
hang the rafters, reconstitute a body
from ashes like a genesis god
scraping adam out of dust

I wish these things
for you because I know homes
—like parents, like lovers—
are not supposed to die

even when they do.

If it's at all possible... I would love to submit The Lullaby for People Who Stay Up Too Late. I'm happy to do any clean-up needed, get all the text into TNR, get clean, black-and-white music notation, and do all the formatting into pdf, etc. I have access to the full adobe suite, so I should be able to get it presentable. Just let me know quickly so I can do all the necessary work!

If not though, here's my back-up:

Title: Flat Tire
Author: Ventomology

In spring, the roads groan
from bloodless nicks and cuts,
spiderwebbing chasms in asphalt
that bloom from every salt-and-tire abbrasion,
every molecule of water that drips between the aggregate
and in the weary freeze and thaw of winter
expands--
wounds boiling up to break the skin of man.

@Ventomology those are both great options! If you're willing to change the font to Time New Roman for The Lullaby for People Who Stay Up Too Late and change the colours to clean black and white, then we'll definitely consider it for the collection!

Title: I'll miss you but it's okay if you need to go
Author: Dossereana

Stars like large snowflakes
shooting across the sky
lifting me way up high
oh tell me how I'm supposed to
let you go
with someone that you don't even know
I don't understand
how you could have done this to me
but I guess I never really understood what we had
maybe even if you had stayed
it still would have ended like that
I guess it's the regret of letting you go
because it stuck with me
and it'll stay here for eternity
for I'll never let go of this regret
I guess this is something
that has to happen
at least once in someone's life
but I want you to know I'll be right here
if you ever come running back to me
because I still
want you

Will be submitting three poems among the best I have!

Author: alpacaboss

POEM1
Title: On a Tightrope

A hundred thoughts rush through my head
When I hear sentences strung through
Resonances I wish to never hear again
Forcing me for a reply

A demand to take a stand, I cannot
For I fear if I choose a side,
I will lose the other
Forever to the darkest depths

How many times have I voiced out
A complaint, a response, an opinion
For it to be hurled in the abyss
Trampled to dust

That is why I keep my mouth shut
Even if it wants to burst
I’m afraid I’ll start laughing
For being too stupid to talk

You’re too quiet, too neutral
But it’s best to stay on the tightrope
For one misstep, a misspoken word
And it all comes crashing down



POEM2
Title: Writing Like I'm Running Out of Time

How do you write like you’re running out of time?
Making sure every sentence of your poem rhymes?
Putting down incoherent ideas of a story,
Making sure that the result isn’t boring?
After working day and night with the hope
To be able to cope with the slippery slope
Of college’s worries and troubles,
I want to sit and blow bubbles
Popping them till my worries vanish,
Chomping on a sweet cinnamon danish
Till my stress seems to wear away.
Writing is a way to tell what I want to say,
While I imagine burying myself in a fluffy duvet.
But not today it seems, anyways.
I cannot avoid the load in front of me;
My teachers have a homework-giving spree,
If not homework, then through heaps of lessons
With loads of information to absorb ev’ry session.
All to amount to a couple of tests
And final projects, you know the rest.
With grades to determine if pass the term
Waiting for that is the worst, I can confirm.
But I decide for now, for my sanity
I’ll write a bit as a break from reality.
Even if it takes a bit of creativity,
Making stuff like these makes me happy.
Maybe after all this hiatus is done,
I’ll relax and enjoy some sun.
Now, I’ll just write a little story,
Before facing my studies in all its glory.



POEM3
Title: Gifted

They call me a genius,
Marveling at what I’ve done.
Skipping a couple of grades
Amazing most everyone.
All assuming, assuming,
That I’m a smart and good child
Listening to her parents,
Well-tempered and mild.

Don’t you all see underneath
The praise and the compliments
Is an overwhelmed kid who
Thinks they’re a disappointment?
The gifted are robbed of friends
For their thinking is unique.
Even if they try to talk,
It’s hard to join any clique.

Overthink, compare, repeat,
Will this vicious cycle end?
The worst part is when you know
How much they have to pretend.
Pretend you’re happy with grades,
Comparing them to others.
Pretend you’re happy alone,
As if you do not bother.

We are not robots, machines,
That simply accomplish things.
We want to be loved for us,
Like normal human beings.
Our intelligence is just
Part of our distinct nature.
It does not make us into
Some weird exotic creature.

Being gifted seems to be
Both a blessing and a curse,
Thanks to unhealthy pressure
Which makes our mental health worse.
Be kind to gifted people
There you will begin to see
Their strengths, flaws, different quirks,
Uniqueness in full beauty.

1) Wonderland Wanderlusters

In Wonderland's realm, where dreams run free,

A whimsical bond, my friend and me.

Through tea parties and enchanted sights,

Half of my life, we've shared these delights.

In curious forests, we have both roamed,

Seeking adventures, a world of our own.

Side by side, through the Cheshire's grin,

Finding wonder in every tale we'd spin.

Amongst the toadstools and daisies fair,

We'd wander with mirth, without a care.

Through the Queen's garden, roses in bloom,

We'd dance and laugh, banishing gloom.

With the Mad Hatter, we'd sip and chat,

Losing all track of time, just like that.

And as the White Rabbit would dart away,

We'd follow, eager to join the fray.

Down the rabbit hole, hand in hand,

Together, exploring this wondrous land.

With the White Rabbit, we'd often race,

Chasing moments, our hearts would embrace.

In the Jabberwocky's shadowy lair,

Facing our fears, we'd boldly dare.

Protecting each other from every fright,

In Wonderland's embrace, we'd find our light.

Through ups and downs, we'd navigate,

The maze of life, our bond innate.

Like Tweedledee and Tweedledum,

United we'd stand, forever as one.

As the stars would twinkle up above,

friendship, an enduring treasure trove.

In Wonderland's embrace, hand in hand,

My best friend and I, together we stand.

In the Queen's court, we'd hold our ground,

With loyalty and love, we were crowned.

Facing the Red Queen's fiery ire,

In unity, we'd never tire.

With the Caterpillar's wisdom profound,

In every challenge, we'd astound.

Through trials and riddles, we'd find our way,

Encouraging each other every day.

In the Mock Turtle's sorrowful tales,

We'd find solace when hope pales.

And in the Gryphon's spirited flight,

Our spirits soared to great heights.

Through whimsy and magic, laughter and glee,

Together we'd dance in jubilee.

In Wonderland's embrace, a bond so pure,

A friendship for ages, strong and sure.

As the sun would set in Wonderland's sky,

We'd bid each other a fond goodbye.

But in our hearts, forever to last,

A friendship that's boundless, steadfast.

2) Reclaimed from the Sea's Embrace

In a sea so vast, a boat once did roam,
On it, a lost wanderer, all alone.
A heart adrift without any map,
Too big a journey than she was apt.

Through crowded skies and empty ocean,
She searched for meaning in the motion.
But in the tumult, she felt estranged,
As if her soul were forever changed.

The stars above whispered a silent plea,
"Keep searching, dear one, you'll find your key."
And in the depths of her weary soul,
She held onto hope to make herself whole.

Then, one fateful day, their paths did meet,
A stranger's eyes so kind and sweet.
In those gentle orbs, a world be told,
A universe of love, a home to hold.

With every word and every smile,
She felt a warmth that eased the trial.
In this special soul, she found her reflection,
A bond so deep, beyond detection.

Like two puzzle pieces finally aligned,
Their souls entwined, their hearts combined.
No longer adrift, no longer astray,
With him, her love, she found her way.

He is the moon to her sunlit sky,
In his embrace, she soared so high.
With him, she found a place to belong,
In the rhythm of their hearts' sweet song.

Together they danced, hand in hand,
Creating magic in this wonderland.
In the embrace of his loving arms,
She found solace, safe from harm.

No longer lost in the sea's embrace,
With him, her love, she found her place.
He is her home, her heart's true shore,
In his love, she found forevermore.

3) Invisible Chains

In solitude, I grapple with these binding chains,

A burdened soul familiar with these well-worn pains.

My narrator, meticulous in every neurotic critique,

Leaves no action unscathed, no effort unique.

A disease named perfection it courses through my veins,

Even in the midst of the sun live personal hurricanes.

Every flaw, a dagger to my burdened core,

Each battle is a campaign in an internal war.

Pen grips paper, a vice-like hold so tight,

A symptom of this infection, a relentless fight.

I carve my belittling into my soul deep inside,

Whatever you could point out, I've already identified.

Restless and unwell until it all is fit as 'just right,'

This pursuit consumes my days and haunts my nights.

Others dismiss, claiming it's all in my head,

Yet I sense truths lurking in words left unsaid.

In shadows between lines, I berate what doesn't exist,

An invisible link to the cold metal against my wrists.

The chains that bind, I yearn to break free,

Embracing flaws and scars and letting myself be.