Young Writers Society

I don't know why I do this.
But my creative writing class is half officially doing NaPo and the peer pressure won out.
Expect lots of incoherency
and midnight writing
and a lot of "What am I doing with my life?"

But maybe some <3.

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If you are easily offended by bad poetry, don't read on.
Spare yourself.
[insert angsty teenager disclaimer here]


1. Awarded
You only see me in the light of the trophy cabinet
Boxed up in glass, Placed on a pedestal
Displayed in pristine, perfect state
So that no one knows there's a human
--flesh and bones
flaws, weaknesses, and desires
emotions and feelings--
Inside.

Hey Spirited, the metaphor of the trophy fits so well with your message and I love the title-choice for this piece! It is short and to the point, and I notice a lot of P alliteration which I thought was a neat touch, gives it that explosive bubbling emotions surfacing feel. :3 Can't wait to see what else you got!

2. sentences i'll never speak



(spoilered for "meh"-ness)

3. after the sun vanished

it's been six days
and i've only sat and watched the ashes
tumbling, falling, dancing
like sparkling stars illuminated in faint sunlight.
if only i knew when life ended
and the fire began.

i've wasted away for six days
while holding out my hands for rain drops,
but keeping my mouth seal shut.
now my hands are caked in dust
and dirt and ash and soot
with no water or tears to fill the cracks
in the skin between my fingers.

it was only six days
but it's felt an eternity
since the sun last set
and the sky took a breath full of colors.

4. Nightly Illusions

She used to walk by my window at nights
fingers sliding silently along the glass,
tracing the branches and leaves
as shadows from the glazed light of street lamps
hanging over my room. And with that light
I could memorize the shape of her figure
the form of her silhouette
and the flow of her hair
as she drifted by each and every night.

Sometimes she'd bring a candle
and leave it on the windowsill all night long.
It's flame would fight and flicker
as winds threatened to pull apart the fabric
holding it all together.
I wondered why when I woke up
the sun was so bright, even after hours
of staring at the dancing shadows in my curtains.

Other times she'd leave an item
(a wood chip, a small coin, an old tooth)
small enough that I knew if I could just hold it
the creases of my fingers would swallow it whole.
But I could never find them in the morning
probably burnt up from the sun
or swept away by the wind and rain
and so the only impressions I had where the shadows
and the shadows
of the girl who used to walk by my window at nights.

5. On Your Own

It's coldest on the cloudless days,
when the only thing between you and the sun is the sky
and what blows bitterly across your back is the wind,
stealing what little warmth you had left.
You wish you brought gloves
instead of a meager pen and pad
because the most deceitful thing is a clear day.

It's loneliest on the loudest days,
whe the only thing your ears can make out is static
and you can't help but wonder when the meaning went away,
casting aside what worth you had left.
You wish you'd stayed home
instead of trying to "live a little"
because sometimes you're the only one you need.

6. replacement

i wasn't there to hear the sirens
or see the glaring lights bouncing off car hoods,
lights that i knew were scattered in every direction
because the metal was too crumbled to make a smooth beam.
i wasn't there to witness the carnage
or blood or screams or
the death of everything i held dear.

they tell me that's a blessing
that i should count those blessings
starting with "i'm alive to see today"
but that only means i'm alive
to be reminded that it's just me
and the family dog.

i'd made dinner for three:
my wife, my daughter and me.
but that night, i sat alone at the dinner table,
eating a cold palete of vegetables never meant for me.
i couldn't keep the tears from my plate:
lemon always tasted better.

the long nights would pass
starting off lonely, just me
and the family dog eating the scraps off my shoes.
he seemed not to notice the gaping hole
that could only be filled with smiles and laughter,
but i thought barks would have to do.

it's been almost a month
since i'd let him up onto the table,
sitting in chairs beside me as I called him "my darling Abby,"
and even dressing him up all nice
in that cute purple dress she never had the chance to wear
to her fourth birthday party, just days away.
at least it was still put to use.

7. crying

it's when the night overcomes you
and you're taking deeper and deeper breaths
holding air inside your lungs until you're hiccuping
(a mix of snot and tears dripping down your face)
but you can't breathe out
air trapped inside your chest in a knot
a blockage of feelings
a rope of everything between sadness and fear
knowing you're both right and wrong
and not knowing why or how or what to do
so you just keep crying.