Young Writers Society

Poem 21

untitled - 21 - 4.17.18

I say you're complicated, I guess
because I always want people to make sense
but they never do, and I had a feeling that you might
make sense, or maybe would let me know
why people in love or
maybe I should say people and love
never seem to make sense
but I'm blabbering now and I don't want
you to think that I love you,
because that always gets complicated
and I was thinking you might make sense
or maybe you wouldn't care
when I don't make sense
or actually I was really hoping
you would care about me
but that's another problem,
because half the time I don't really think
that I make sense,
but maybe it might be possible that you
fall in love with complicated people too?

Woah. Poem #20 just hit me like... </3
Thanks for sharing that.

Poem 22

An extra poem today from a jam @Kanome was running!

staining stars - 4.17.18

sometimes i watch the sky at night and imagine
that i could fill all the spaces between the stars and dark
with my memories; let them hang and get mixed up
in galaxies of once desparate dreams and harsh regrets
that feel softer sitting level with the clouds and stash them
with all the times that the earth spun too quickly for me
to catch up with the light.

and i remember the way you used to strain
your morning tea leaves fishing with heavy fingers
searching for the last leaf while the water got cold
and snatching it like a prize to your lips
saying you had finally caught it and i always felt like
you never cared about me even as much as your
morning tea.

it's like there was always one last thing lost between us
threatening to wedge between our teeth and we were
just fishing in the dark, getting caught too long in the hunt
and ignoring when our fingers grew cold, pretending there
wasn't any space for memories between the stars
and the night sky or a million little reasons
that time spun too quick.



Poem 23

plot mapping and other poetry things 4.17.18

will start a poem in the middle
and see where it goes until i end
near the middle and sometimes i

Just stumbled upon this thread... Poem on the Spot (you can't leave the thread without writing a poem).

Poem 24

just breathing - 4.18.18

I think poetry comes in waves
like the heavy air I hold in my chest
I sometimes forget you can't just hold your breath
but you inhale, exhale, live, and write, and breathe -
and sometimes only in gasps,
and sometimes you just run and forget,
but it's always there -
somewhere in the intimate workings of our minds
we know instinctively what it is for hearts to pump blood
and to feel and cry and to scream
and we know that lungs need to breathe
and sometimes as much as I need air, I need poetry.

Poem 25

I tried to write a sestina, sort of fun, but not entirely happy with the results. But I do really enjoy this poetry form!

empty skies - 4.19.18

i find myself sometimes afraid
of starless nights
where the sky is unbroken
and all that separates
the earth from the heavens
is left to my imagination and

the horizon seems far and empty and
i wonder if God is ever afraid
to touch the earth from the heavens
when this doubt and fear fills my night.
Does He ever contemplate separation?
Can someone whole love someone so broken?

Cracked bodies and hearts broken
much too far to be fixed, and
i find myself wanting to separate
out the good and the bad, but I'm afraid
there'd be nothing left, like the empty night.
So I look up beyond stardust towards heaven

and pray that there's a God in heaven
who remembers His Son's broken
body, who lay three days and nights
who gave his life for my own and
loves me even when i find myself afraid.
No, all my failings must not truly separate

me even when the stars have separated
from their designated place in the heavens
and the world doesn't make sense and i'm afraid,
surely even then, God loves me though broken.
for He knows what it is to die and
knows what it is to miss the sun in the night.

For God created the sun and stars that hide tonight
he tooks the waters and land and separated
them to form earth and sea and
molding out clay chosen from the heavens
He made me, in His image, unbroken
and whispers that i do not need to be afraid.

His words echo in my ears and i feel now less afraid.
For i believe tonight even when the sky appears unbroken
that my unseparated God is not only bound to the heavens.

Poem 26

content warning: mentions drinking

everyone likes parties - 4.20.18

you can't get me to admit that i like parties
i mean i'm not sure i actually do like parties
but i guess we're all supposed to like parties?
so i don't know. maybe i'm just in denial.
but i can't seem to ever smile enough or laugh hard enough
to convince everyone i'm happy with downing beers
and drunk tripping flirting over drunken couches
sitting too close and dancing too close and talking too close
and it's too close to people all at once and i'm too
much of an introvert or too much of a hermit to not feel
like i'm slowly being crushed from the outside in.
but people keep asking me why i'm not talking
but they follow up that question with their whole life story
so why would i interrupt? besides, it's hard to talk
when you feel like you're drowning, but i drink the water
and smile and fake laughter as much as i can.
i mean everyone loves parties right?
so i might as well look like i'm enjoying myself.

Poem 27

I should just try tea - 4.21.18
your words are coffee grinds
stuck in my teeth . lingering
hours later . a bitter reminder
that I’m addicted to some
one who props me up
but can never quite
sustain me . If only
you were sweeter . I think
I could have had a chance
at quitting . but you don’t
mince emotion or words ,
even when I think I’ve purged
enough to let you go ,
I find those bitter grinds
gritting between my teeth .


Poem 27.5

I wrote the majority of this one in March and just got around to polishing it, so I hate to count it towards my NaPo count - but it belongs in the thread, so I'm labeling it "27.5" and throwing it in here. The correct formatting is here: link.

bittersweet - march-april

[one].
i think i've always pretended to love coffee
___just something warm to wake-up to
___bitter notes barely disguised by sucralose
___ i could always convince myself
___that the artificially sickly sweet
the laughing, kissing, dancing while we're strangers
________was less disappointing
___ than sugar, or honey, or conversations that dared
___ to ask who we really were
___ or are, or could be,
___or love that cared;
________ and failed.
it just hurts more to waste your time with something precious.
the loss more hollow and
memories etched deeper
when you get attached to someone.
and i know too well how it feels to get my hopes up.

[two].
i have always heard desperation is an acquired taste
___just something that sneaks up on you
___bitter notes becoming stale or muted
___i always convince myself the caffeine kick
___is worth the crash.
then i remember even faked feelings stir up fatigue
______ and sometimes they're not fake.
___but i drown my bitterness in sucralose
___ and ask why i need to care
___if you don't care and what's
___even the point of love
______when we don't care.
sometimes i think i'd rather not know what love feels like
if somehow that would save me
the heartache of heartbreak,
but even bitter coffee burns sometimes.
and i still get my hopes up, even when i know better.

[three].
i realize now i've wasted a lot of time on lukewarm love
___just because i'm always so terrified
___of getting burned, so i don't take risks,
___and i wait too long, and by the time
___either of us cares it is always too late.
and lately i've been dumping coffee in favor of chamomile
______and loving people
___who might love me back
___or might care to know
___who i am, and who we are,
___or could be,
______and it is terrifying
that now you have the option of rejecting me for who i am.
there's no hiding behind apathy
or artificial sweeteners,
but i'm used to heartbreak.
and this time i think i'm willing to get my hopes up.

I love both of the above c: So many clear pictures and with a wonderful flow <3

Poem 28

untitled - 28 - 4.22.18

on days like this,
when we talk for hours about everything and nothing
and all that matters is the weight of my head on your shoulder
and i count my dreams to the steady beat of your heart
while you laugh and tell me stories of everywhere
you've been and all you hope to ever be
i somehow forget that i am afraid.

Poem 29

cloudy thoughts - 4.22.18

i used to find shapes in clouds
the same way i used to fall in love
haphazardly hoping there was
hidden meaning in precipitation
of stormy days and cloudy days
and days where you could almost see the sun
if you squinted and forgot what light looked like.

but now i tend to see rain clouds
and days better spent indoors
for fear of stormy weather
and when i see shapes in clouds they're only cyclones.
and i almost wish that i could believe in love like rain again
love that is some unavoidable work of fate
that pours down upon you, whether you're looking for it or not.

and i almost wish that i could still believe you
when you say you love me.
but only children try to find meaning in the clouds
and anyways, i try not to fall in love with cyclones.

Poem 30

חוכמה {wisdom} - 4.23.18





author's note: I'm pretty mediocre at Hebrew, so this poem took quite a while to craft up between looking up words and phrases and trying to pull it all together. I'm assuming that there are some grand grammar mistakes and mistranslations in this piece - but I gave it my best effort. I was really excited to attempt to use some of my Hebrew skills as I actually took a course in Hebrew poetry this last semester. So this poem uses some Hebrew poetic conventions like chiastic structure - and when you read it in Hebrew it somewhat rhymes too! :]

And with that, thirty poems have been completed!

Your Napo was wonderful and your final poem was so lovely and a wonderful note to conclude your NaPo with! Congratulations on completing the beast that is NaPo

I love that last one! The Hebrew is really cool c:
*throws confetti* And congrats on completing NaPo! I loved reading through every single one of your poems.

Poem 31
(will do a few bonus poems to finish out the month)

running cautious - 4.24.18

we all run out of time eventually
no matter how fast we move our legs, or how much we practice stretching lungs
time runs faster, faster,
and i find myself dragging dead weight
of memories that that pull at my veins and whisper
stories that sound like lies, of a person i no longer am
and all these dreams i've grown out of,
like tennis shoes now too tight, too worn;
i only tie these dreams closer in denial
because i fear not being tethered to the ground.
if i unlaced these dreams and put down these heavy memories
i imagine i might be too light and float away and lose myself,
or this self that i know
but the race goes ever quicker
and i know i must too.

Congrats on finishing NaPo!!!!!!!