Young Writers Society

"Writing is your soul on paper" - Isabelle Crane

This NaPo, I am aiming for 10 poems, or one every 3 days or so, focused on the theme of using stars, constellations, space, galaxies, etc. as metaphors for feelings like loneliness, ambition, restlessness, etc. I will be experimenting using syllabicative structure, using some poetic forms like the Lai form, cinquains, haikus, and the like.

Previous Years:
2019 NaPo: a scream into the void

Index:
[1] Extinguished
[2]The Place Where There Is No Darkness
[3]
[4]
[5]
[6]
[7]
[8]
[9]
[10]

a comet of
ambition, spiraling
into nothingness

a black hole opens up
inside my chest, sucking out
my pride and passion

the universe weighs
heavily upon my shoulders,
suffocating me

I cannot escape;
asteroids bombard me from
every direction.

I cover my head,
shield my eyes, and wait for the end
of the universe.

I was once a bright light,
a shining star, filled with life
and potential

Now, my flame has fizzled;
this star has been completely
extinguished

"Extinguished" is full of heavy imagery. I think it gives off a feeling of helplessness. You were once full of potential, blindingly bright, and now you're just damaged... and floating in space without a purpose — if we can assume that radiation (or enlightenment) was indeed your purpose. It's beautiful. Keep up the good work, Tuckster!

"We shall meet
in the place where there is
no darkness"

We shall chase
the demons of self-hatred
from our minds.

We shall take up
a broom and sweep the thoughts
of worthlessness

out of sight;
brushing every last shadow
from the crevices

And once we
have created such a place,
we shall write

hopeful letters
and arrange for a meeting
under the sun

a/n: quote taken from 1984 by George Orwell

I started off
a shooting star alight
with ambition.
With eyes full of stars,
I set out through the night to
conquer my demons.

But as comets batter
me from all directions,
my flame fizzles.
Black holes drag me
off-course; suck me into
an abyss filled with
demons that torment
me with thoughts of self-hatred
and worthlessness

As the demons begin
to out-number the flecks of hope
within my eyes,
my fire fades.
Until one dreadful night,
I spiral out of control
and crash into a planet.

v. Worship

do I dare to believe
in forgiveness, in second chances?
in hope, in resurrection,
in something greater than myself?

do I have the humility
to accept that I am not in control?
do I have the serenity
to accept that I am not God?

for if we do not worship
something outside ourselves,
then we will end up
worshipping ourselves

vi. Bullet On My Dresser

There is a bullet on my dresser.

I see it every morning. As soon as I open my cracked eyelids, it greets me. It waves good-morning to me when I finally drag myself out of my den of blankets. It stays in sight as I pull the least-smelly pair of jeans in my dirty wash onto my thin, bruised legs.

It is a punched exit ticket. It is freedom.

It brands itself inside my brain as I stumble downstairs. I see it when my eyes drift shut as I pour my coffee. I spill some scalding water on my hand. Fuck. I dry my hand on an old dishtowel and wander upstairs with no clear purpose.

The bullet greets me as I enter my room again. I grab an old locket and open it. Inside is an old picture of my parents, smiling softly at the camera as they squeeze each other's hands. I clench my teeth and crumble the picture in my hand.

I replace it with the cylinder that will soon bring me freedom. I tuck it underneath my shirt. The chain wrapped around my neck gives me a sense of weightlessness. I have never felt so alive.

I go throughout my day like this, with a reminder hanging around my neck. No one suspects a thing; as I step into the liquor store, the clerk remarks on how I seem happier than yesterday.

As I step outside, my phone buzzes. I glance at it to see a text from my high school best friend.

"Hey man! I just got this sudden urge to tell you that I miss you and hope you're doing well. Anyway, I'll be in town next week. We should grab a drink and catch up. Let me know when you're free!"

I reread the text, and within it I find a purpose, however fleeting.

~~~

On my way home, I stop at the river. I kick a few pebbles, flip a few stones, and then I unclasp the chain from around my neck.

I weigh it in my hand for a moment, and suddenly, I know what it feels like to hold the world in my hands. I open it and gaze at the bullet. "You can keep me," it whispers to me. "You know you love me. You need me."

I shake my head slowly and close the locket. I wind up like the baseball pitcher I was never talented enough to become and hurl the bullet into the ocean. A weight I hadn't realized I was carrying was lifted from my chest.

This is true freedom.