Young Writers Society

So because there isn't enough going on in April already I've decided to NaPo. I've been meaning to do this for so many years and I never have. Until now!

Do enjoy some narrative poetry because that's really the only poetry I write.

Also, I do not consider myself a poet by any means. Keep that in mind xD

4.2

They say shock lasts only as long as the moment
but it's an eternity to the aching body
and pounding heart -- dizzying mind.
They say it's a ruse to benefit
your adrenaline -- a matter
to keep you alive.

I can prove them wrong.

Ringing ears, rattling heart against its cage
never cease
even as the day forms a memory forced under
hours of joy covered terror.
In that moment everything collapses,
every atom sized logic explodes
to form uncertainty.

The day plays like a movie in my mind,
without the previews and dragging exposition.
The love interest starts out dead, but the love
lives on, even though I can't give it to him
as his life drenches my skin.

Of all the sounds created I manage to find the one
that is real -- no doubt around just to add to the pile
threatening to topple.

And I run.

I never stop running.

4.7

My mother's shy smile is forever etched
into my memory like the words chiseled
into her gravestone
Here lies Michelle Ann
Mother of a traitor.

I used to live to see my mother
smile. When her stained yellow teeth
shined I couldn't look away.
She was beautiful -- something
she denied.

I never meant to do this to her.
I never meant to let her down.
I never meant to get caught.
I never want to hurt the ones I love.

But the cards were dealt
and I had to play.

They say it was because of me that her life was miserable.
They say it was because of me that her heart stopped.
They say it was because of me that there wasn't any help.
They say it was because of me.

I wish I hadn't gone
to the funeral. Those brave enough to
talk to me shot me
with words, stinging the memories
I buried with my mother's soul.

And none of it matter now
as I offer my mother a rose,
the only apology I will give her.

Some part of me killed her, shocked
her heart beyond saving.
For that I feel bad.
For that I feel regret.

Here lies Michelle Ann
Mother of a traitor
A smile snakes across my lips.
"Damn right she is."
I turn my back on my mother,
no intent in changing my ways.

4.7

Even through the calmest of storms the swings still move
as if we're still sitting hand in hand at the age of fourteen
determined to prove our parents wrong. Young love
only exists for those who can feel it, who can understand
the beating heart and shared bright tears of a test failed
and a friends lost.

I watch those swings every day hoping you'll appear one day
like you never left me to make two swings move
to bring back a feeling I lost years ago. My parents all but said
I told you so, even though it was far from a moment to say so
and they knew it.

Senior year wasn't the same without you. I couldn't celebrate
colleges or grades, the picnic or trip -- there was always
a missing piece, one I tried so hard to fill but there wasn't
anything the right size.

Every day it's harder to breathe, to find a reason to keep moving
the inches needed to make it in this life without someone
by your side.

Although I'll never catch you again out of the corner of my eye
your image hasn't left. It remains on those cursed swings.

All I have to remember you by are two piece of wood.