Young Writers Society

poem #82: stars in prineville

night falls,
the moon casting a ghostly shadow
through the sharp-twigged juniper trees
yet is comforting

fire sparks go up
reaching for the stars
which have just come out
so bright and strong

that when you look at them directly
an orchestra plays
along to the tune
of the soft hoots

of the owl sitting atop the tree.
they stick together
like all of us
bound by invisible, happy

death delivering if you break
ropes that you can hear creak
if you journey too far beyond
where you truly belong

poem #83: anger
i am bound by ropes
ropes of anger, hurting me
please, someone help me.

poem #84: golf course

we run across to the willow trees
being yelled at by golfers
and climb up
hiding behind beach towels

and yelling funny things at them
wrestling with our baby sitter
near the yellow flag
able to hear his fake, playful protest from a mile away

kicking up fake turf
with our running feet
until night falls
and we go to sleep.

poem #85: cloud blanket

whenever i feel cold inside
i just look at the white, puffy cumulus clouds
blanketing the sky
hiding the blue

so large and fluffy it could warm me
to no end
and i could sit and sing and dance
and not fall through

they would keep on moving and disappearing
reappearing and getting bigger and smaller and in different shapes
but that isn't different than anyone who could do that
right? clouds can be a substitute for people I don't have who I need.

am i wrong? maybe i should stop
watching the sky and get those people
but who am i kidding
who needs people when you have clouds?

one side of my brain says everyone
the other side says no one
so what do I need?
the sides to stop arguing so I can concentrate

but they won't quit
and the one who says i need people wins
what do I do now?
i just want to watch the clouds.

poem #86: flip a coin

heads means go home
tails means stay
which do I choose?
i cannot say

heads means go to family in the city
tails means staying where i belong
which do i choose?
this is taking to long

it is too hard to follow through
what if i don't want to go?
what do i choose?
nobody knows.

toss the coin
out the window
it is too hard now
i need you to help me know how!

poem #87: covid

when will this all be over?
i want to hug you without
the distance
and the masks

and the hand sanitizer
i want to know when
it will be over
and why it ever came.

i want to know why
it is breaking us apart
and how to get back together
without the six feet of distance

why does it have to be this way?
why can't we eradicate it?
why can't we handle it
and how come you are making it stay?

covid, please
please go
away
forever.

poem #88: rain and sanity

some curse it
say it is a bad excuse to be agitated
others are grateful
for the water it gives their garden

but i? I dance in it
because it is rain
and the skies may be crying
but I am happy

because it means that one part of life
is still normal
and even if it is just the oregon weather
it is still there

and it takes my mind off
the murder van
covid-19
friendship problems

and the rain drenches them down
and turns them into puddles
while it lasts

poem #89: paper cranes

strung from the ceiling
swaying in the breeze coming in through the cracked window
pinks, purples
yellows, greens

blues, browns
reds, grays

all different colors
like a rainbow inside
of your own room
making flapping sounds
as they fly around the room

lifelike, everlasting
ripped and torn
but still hanging on
to the ceiling

in their minds eye
flying between rows of birches
listening to the bobbing grasses
rubbing against each other in the wind

never being stuck
on a line strung to a ceiling
again in their short-lived
colored paper life.

You are so close to 100! Good luck hannah!!

(in this last set I really enjoy the paper cranes one [I have a soft-spot for origami poems] and also the star one on the top of the page! <3 Beautiful imagery!)

Well done this month, you've written so much, I am so impressed!

Thanks so much, @alliyah! Wish me luck on getting to 120.

poem #90: freedom

freedom doesn't mean
getting to pass lanes whenever we want
own property anywhere
or build a house on public land

freedom is being loved
running through countryside
setting off fireworks on the fourth of july
and trusting people and being trusted yourself

it isn't cutting down as many trees as you want
and doing graffiti on buildings
buying as many drugs as you want
and littering.

it is about having enough rules to stay sane
and knowing who you are
feeling how you want to feel
and choosing the path you want.

this is true freedom.
feeling like you belong in the world.

poem #91: questioning

if there was a symbol to describe me
i would choose a big, fat question mark
because i am an undiscovered, unnoticed person
hiding in the shadows of youth

cowering in the dark corners of discovery
waiting for it to dawn upon the horizon
that is darkened by the black night sky
while lost souls wait for the morning to come.

i don't know who i am or what
i will come to be because
life is too unpredictable to know
what will happen next

maybe you don't want to know
and maybe that is the surprise.
but shouldn't I know who I am by now?
instead of hiding in the shadows of lies and unknown?

Poem #92: writers block

my hands are tied tight
my brain lacks inspiration
i am really mad

poem #93: wander

walking through the woods
lost people, waiting for
a final, real discovery
that won't ever cease

but they are wandering
through the woods
trying to find someone to inhabit
but the two are going in opposite directions.

poem #94: who am i

who am I?

I feel as though this is the essential question
for children going through adolesence.
that, and "when do I know that I know who I am?"
is it remembering the early childhood memories that unearth the truth?

or just saying to yourself, "I am unique"
while staring at open countryside out the window.
is it a big breakthrough that happens
when a tramautic event occurs?

is "who am I?" even a valid question?