Young Writers Society

#10

The tarmac gleams
fire of streetlights
in shattered ripples of rain
thrown up by passing tyres.

I tilt my face up
to catch the falling sky
and leave my mind
in the puddles.

#11

Atop the chrome-glass forest, this hazy canopy
obscures the glistening heights of geometric giants.
In translucent air, all sight is dimmed;
colours lose vibrance, shapes definition.

The sky is gone, and the cloud has come upon us.

#12

Some days, you watch every second tick past
on the clock above the list of timekillers you've made yourself.

Some days, the morning races past
in a series of questions answered at other people's desks.

#13

I always forget
to leave some calendar squares white
for my battery levels to catch up
with all the good things.

#14

I know you--
----in this place among these desks
----trading Kinder egg toys and sharing burritos

I know you--
----'twixt lines of code and bug reports
----with days to share and reasons to talk

I miss you--
----already

#15 or, Introvert Goes to a Party

This room is filled with
(the heat and the scent and the sound of)
excellent half-strangers;
my shirt is drenched and I am bouncing
on the balls of two aching feet
spilling pieces of myself to impress you
(hoping that in baring these anxieties
I am made relatable
rather than weird
but I think - I think it's working).

Every moment exquisite exhaustion;
I am buzzing
with the effort of existing here--

--but please, I don't want it to end.

#16 or, Tricksy Conversations With My Brain

You're right,
I suck,
and never finish anything

but

I'm going to go ahead
and write some words down anyway.

#16 is a mirror of my brain, especially currently c: Love it <3

Aw, thanks, Cat! Sorry you have to have these brain arguments, too!

#17

Hand in hand we walk
beneath drifting clouds with the sun
floating in and out of the sky
and we talk
of everything and nothing.

#18

So much of my life sits in this bright box
five inches to a diagonal
and barely half a centimetre deep.

#19

Above dark rooves and silhouetted trees
dusky blue seeps down to the horizon,
melting through gold into pastel pink.
With every window thrown wide, the breeze
gently bears me relief from heat,
the sweet scent of warm earth
and the trills of blackbird's evensong.

#20

Can you ever write too much
about good weather?
Pristine blue skies baking the pavement,
sitting out in a T-shirt after dark,
relishing every second of warmth
(before it all turns to drizzle again).

#21

Sat at your computer
fifteen hundred miles from here
still it seems that I can
hear you speaking loud and clear;
can't recall how long it is
since we were face to face,
can't predict how long until
we land in the same place.

#22

Roses are red
Parties are fun
This poem's a cop-out
But I still got it done

#23

A rare event:
fifteen people in my flat and I -
- I am not hiding from them.
I have summer and a smile,
a glass of sugar syrup, citrus, soda (and gin)
and it has not slid me into sadness.
They laugh, I laugh;
we trade on punchlines
and I am not worried for anyone.

It's nice to remember I can love them all.