Young Writers Society

I think, prefacing this, I should let everyone know that the majority of these are not written with the intent to be good poetry, but simply to be emotions I want out of me. If I produce something good - great. Normally, my poetry has a distance from my own emotions and rarely resembles me. I'm taking April to do a bit of my own exploration.


7-4-09

My fingers are unfeeling to this texture.
I cannot unlace the threads which bind:
what I know from what I wish were;
love from unlove from hate.
Where are my heart's limits?
Have they any home?
A crack or a cut could let the feelings
bleed in thicker thoughts than my words
but still my fingers would be unfeeling to this texture,
to your skin.

-TOUCH THE TACTILE

So i've been reading through your thread, and 'Playground' is far my favourite one. I do love your poetry very much. Desperate Demands was an extremely strong and powerful piece. I understand Touch The Tactile was one based on your inner emotion, but you used powerful words and on the whole I enjoyed reading it.

8-4-09

"A vow would absolve you of all temptation."
Words of comfort from an ignorant soul.
How could they know that prince charming has more claws
than the dragon he saved me from?
Funny that it takes a single man, a sole event
to ruin a lifetime. No hope, no relief -
a vow would only bind me to my fear
(exposed skin to touch, to taste, to mutilate)
rather than to my sensual freedom,
as is supposed.
How could I, an intelligent woman,
allow myself to be chained to any man's whim?
Like drinking from a wine we know to be poisoned,
but calling it Life's elixir;
women do it every day.
"A vow would absolve you of all temptation,"
yet it's never my temptation that frightens me.
-MARRIAGE

My fingers are unfeeling to this texture.
I cannot unlace the threads which bind:
what I know from what I wish were;
love from unlove from hate.

SO. Beautiful, and I can totally relate. I just love the image of numbness that you bring through this. =]

No hope, no relief -
a vow would only bind me to my fear
(exposed skin to touch, to taste, to mutilate)
rather than to my sensual freedom,
as is supposed.
How could I, an intelligent woman,
allow myself to be chained to any man's whim?

Absolutely. Absolutely, Suzanne. I love the message in this. I think you could even elaborate on it if you wanted. I feel like you just touched the surface with this one, and it left me wanting more of your emotion. Good job. <3

Upon my own comment that a poem is not a grocery list.


9-4-09

SHOPPING LIST FOR TONIGHT'S DATE
2 Bottles of chardonnay
2 Boneless, skinless chicken breasts
Garlic powder
Poultry seasoning
Seasoned salt
Ground black pepper
Worcestershire sauce
Vegetable oil
2 Wine glasses
Table cloth
Package instant chocolate pudding mix
Half Gallon of milk
[s]1[/s] 2 Cans frozen whipped topping
Dozen roses - white, pink, red
Dress shirt - preferably blue
Black slacks
Febreeze
Heavy duty trash bags
Strawberries
3 Packs of Tylenol PM
Fabric blindfold
Shoe polish
Cable ties
Taser
Stapler - with staples
Hair ties
Soap for bubble bath
Chainsaw
Comforter and bed sheet
Shovel
or Meat freezer?
Bleach

Heavy duty trash bags
Strawberries
3 Packs of Tylenol PM
Fabric blindfold
Shoe polish
Cable ties
Taser
Stapler - with staples
Hair ties
Soap for bubble bath
Chainsaw
Comforter and bed sheet
Shovel
or Meat freezer?
Bleach

I kind of love you.

Ditto what Hannah said. Your last poem reminds me of recipe poems we did English 126 aka Creative Writing. Kind of like a blend between Dexter's grocery list and a recipe for murder.



Beautiful stuff, Suze.

Ta,
Cal.

I'm writing/not writing. This is really challenging. I find that, given free time, I have nothing to write. No inspiration, no drive. I'm more than certain once I go back to school my fountain of "genius" will spring forth again.

Here is some poppycock that I shoved out simply to look like I was doing something:

Christmas tress are great
until it's June.
Running through the sprinkler -
What a pass time! -
can be a challenge
when it is below ten outside.
What I do mean to say is,
Person,
I find your method of life
rather contradictory
and I shan't conform
to whatever it is
you conform to.
Best regards.

--

Truly, my fount of inspiration is dry.

I absolutely love your list poem!

I think your latest poems are the best, inspiration drying up, psh.

hahah the list one is amazing, even I can admit that, but that one I just did is certainly nonsensical!

Tanks Stali ^^

Hey Suz,

I really like your poems so far. The list one especially -- so morbid. I also like Untruths though. Leja's right, beautiful word.

Keep going!

~Kalli

13-4-09

I would to feel the words under my fingers;
the ridges and cuts left by the quill.
Why is the page so flat?
The letters make syllables make words
makes sounds makes sentences, lines,
spaces, line breaks, stanzas, poetry -
It's all so alive but unmoving.
It's always the same letters each time I look
and they always make the same declaration
or desire:
That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,
And with thee fade away into the forest dim.
Why can I not feel the words under my fingers?
They speak verses but are nothing
to my touch, they are flat,
smooth, solid. Ink and paper.
Would the poem say the same thing
if I could feel it on my fingertips
as opposed to what is says
in my ear?
I would to feel the words under my fingers.
-WOULD

The italicized excerpt is from Ode to a Nightingale by John Keats because that's where my book is open right now.

Yes, Suz, Shopping List For Tonight's Date is more or less genius. It took me a little while, and getting into it was somewhat difficult, but it's definately a unique idea. The thing I didn't like was the mention of a taser. It's out of place, just because everything is else is something you could get at a grocery store (discounting the chainsaw), and it seems a little too high-tech for a serial killer, you know? Also, where does one get a Taser? Along the same lines is the chainsaw. I think it would be so much better if you could replace the actual chainsaw with, like, chainsaw lubricating oil, or a new chain for the chainsaw. You dance around everything else it seems, except for those two items. I dunno. It's cool.

-Kylan

Even though I'm failing NaPoWriMo....


19-4-09


Lent my body to the man down the street.
He cut to the quick while holding my hand
"I'm not the good guy with your feeling's in mind."
I only smiled because I lost my tongue
to the man before him. It wouldn't have
helped anyway; he touched my cheek
and I pretend to feel something warm.

After all his fingers had found my buttons
I wrote on a piece of paper and showed him
you remind me of a bruised fist
and he only laughed and said
I looked like a dead child.

He was nice because he called me baby
instead of bitch like I expected
and even though I can't see out my left eye
I got free breakfast and his number.