Young Writers Society

I did this before I remember, but I don't think I did too good of a job. This time I'm going to read a poem a day as I write a poem a day, so that I get inspiration and can be more creative.

Also, I'm going to try different types of poetry, including; spoken word (lots), using images to conjure poetry, using music to inspire, and using different, strange or unique words. I hope it works, and I'm excited. Finally, there will be some experiences from my life in some of the poems. [12+]

|genesis|

In the beginning,
there was the word.
“Tree,”
Imagine a tree sprouting from fresh
soil and leaves reaching from the bark,
trying to get the sun in it’s system.

In the beginning,
i was like the tree.
“Growing,”
Imagine a young girl walking towards
strangers on a plane to a distant
land, not realizing the distance, then.

The beginning,
was a shaky step,
a deep breath,
a shake of the head,
maybe once or twice,
the beginning was a smile.

the Genesis of moments leading up to
my revelations have been an adventure
of their own, not to mention all the stories
they have created in my mind, the fixture of
hope that was built, demolished and built
once again.

The start, the beginning of the end.

taken down temporarily! (submitting it for a contest!) xD

Floating




It's about emotions. Somewhat left to self interpretation. Also, I wrote a few poems today actually but just decided to share this one.

Today I read, Negotiations by Rae Armantrout and I loved it, go check it out!

Twisted Memories

1.

I sit, in a small chair,
it stifles me and I cannot breathe
I cannot breathe another word,
they catch in my throat as my hands
take a life of their own and my sign language
is the only thing I know. My mind is blank-
more blank than the white piece of paper
before me, and all I can think of is that
I cannot stay in this small chair,
this hole in disguise, this hidden pool of
lies, where we laugh and smile to each other,
but inside-
what is the inside like?

I cannot sit any longer.

2.

So I opt for the floor,
it's nice and cold, the air rushes
from the air conditioning right
to my soul. I feel refreshed already,
peaceful. There is something about the
floor that gives me a sense of freedom.
I don't have to sit in a small chair anymore,
I can sit on the cool floor, where my back
is against the wall, but from my point of vision,
I can see everyone, their intentions, and with
a heart as friable as mine, I need a head start,

before it gets broken.

3.

When the pettifoggery turned
into grand altercations, I liked
to dream about running away to the
train station where millions of people
would be wandering, going to somewhere,
just like I would be. I used to pretend I was
heading off to a new land, a new place, where
arguments or frustration or even pain didn't exist,
but, what a fool, I was to think these things,
could I have ever made it far? No,
I possibly wouldn't have survived. Yet, the thought,
brought up elation and the thought, led me to that new
coffee and tea shop where I ran to in the midst of the hail,
or when I needed some shelter from the rain.

The tea there tasted strange.

4.

It tasted like bitterness, that
sometimes in the late of the night,
I admit I've had. The cravings for blaming
others, myself, the world, for the evils
that continue to appear in my sight is
one that won't go away easily. However,
it isn't all consuming like my hold on
acceptance, and love. It's natural,
of course. But unnatural to remove yourself
completely, like stargirl, erasing your
very being simply because you want to
"fit in". Thank God, I never really changed.

Though it left me solivigant.

Internal Wounds

you can come in,
take your time and
slowly, take apart my heart.

look into it, see what’s
internally broken,

see the pieces that’ve
chipped in places i can’t
reach.

you can figure it out,
i can’t.

i don’t know me,
i don’t understand.

you do.

fix me,
take these pieces to examine,
and glue them back together,
to create me once again.

Dungeon

"hide yourself"

she covers herself in
deep fears that come in
dark cloth, and hides herself
in the trenches of her past,

so that sleep is gone from
her cold eyes and hope is
lost from her heart, she's hidden
in the hardness that she's built
from the pain,

it's kept her safe.

My Body Reminds Me of You

I know this is silly, love,
but my feet remind me
of you.

They get so cold in the
middle of the night and I
have to wrap something
around them to keep me warm.

I remember you scooting
closer to me because the
AC was broken, so
I would wrap my arms
around you.

I was your something, your blanket.

And these feet of mine,
they carry me everywhere;
up the stairs, which are growing
too long, and down them again.

I remember when I broke my ankle,
for days, you carried me up and
down those stairs, faithfully, never
seeming to tire.

You’re stronger than my feet for sure.

There are days
when my legs tire and
my feet drag themselves
across the floor.

I remember when we used to drag one
another across the smooth hardwood floor
in our mattresses, like children would do,
all for laughs.

We were always a strange couple.

My feet aren’t the only part of my body
that reminds me of you.
Everywhere you’ve touched,
everything you’ve seen, I hold dear;
they’re a part of you.

I’m a part of you.

Nature's Dance #10

leaves sway the same way you do,
when you dance.
i think you were built from the soil,
and shaped out of the dust,
your body is strong like a tree, but
it bends and waves when the wind
and rain, of life,
moves you, off your feet.

Heros (Spoken Word : http://vocaroo.com/i/s08Gy1ITqKrL )

I put on this mask,
not just to hide my identity,
but to keep people safe.

At least,
I tell myself that,
as I put on my cape-

capabilities and hopes,
my dreams. Everything
I want to be

is etched onto the hero's
symbol on my chest,

so I carry the pain I see all around,
on my back, charging towards,
the world with words that sound
just right enough to make myself
forget, my kryptonite is me.

And so I do forget, I keep
spewing beautiful meaningless
language, keeping people
at peace, but not bringing any
justice.

Soon I forget the point of it all,
and hide behind the mask, rather
than allowing the mask to hide me.
I shield myself from the contact,
from the fears, from the villians, because,
it's easier,

because it seems, I will never win.

But at the end of the day,
when the cape comes off,
and the mask is set aside,
I know I will wake up the next day,
ready to face another fight; and if I lose,
I lose, but as long as there are villians in the world,

I will keep fighting everyday, until the Heros win.

Butterfingers

I used to hate my butterfingers,
I hated not being able to hold on to you,
you'd slip from my grasp; everyone would.

Then I realized, they made me strong.
I didn't have to hold on.

Not to the past, not to people, not to anything.
I'd let them slip through my clumsy fingers,

and fall to the waiting floor.

The floor filled with the feelings
I keep tripping on because
I can't see where I am going anymore.

And when I fall,
nothing and no one can help me get up
because I've let everything go.

Now, I just want to learn to grasp hold.

random thoughts

quiet trips around the mall,
wandering aimlessly looking-
looking at everyone moving
auto- automatically,
like we're all robots walking
to an unknown destination.

when is the switch going to
turn off-
off and on,
and our eyes come
alight with the knowledge
of something more than
mundane moments of smiles
and laughter,

I wonder if waking up at 4
am and thinking about life
makes me any different or,
does it just make me think
I am?