Young Writers Society

now and then

there was a time
not so very long ago
when we were both a little younger than today.
I can see you in a dark t-shirt, sitting in the floor
as the July sun beams through your bedroom window
and reflect off the posters of Tony Hawk racing down a ramp
and Shaun White holding gold and the American Flag.
I see me, my mismatched clothes,
colors and patterns that don't mesh,
trying to make a statement, trying to be noticed.
watching you with awe, for guidance.
we both desperately wish that we were older,
that we were free.
now, we're wiser and some ways
but when I think to that moment and the warm summer air
I wish I could travel back in time
tell us that will a special moment
that we are closer than we will ever be
and not to let it go.

Hello, Elinor! This poem captures the bittersweet of growing up and seeing memories in hindsight. It's almost saccharine, a particular type of rose-coloured glasses memory you try your best to protect—what a visual. Wonderful job.

tick, tock

there is one simple fact of life, one unshaken truth --
all of us will die. when or where or how, no one knows,
only that it's true. some say that life is long
but i've never believed that to be the case.
all of us are chased by crocodiles who swallowed clocks
or ticking in our heads, ticking that gets louder
the older we get, the further we stray from our dreams.
life tells us that if we work hard to plant certain seeds,
we'll enjoy the fruit when we're wrinkled and gray--
but what if we never get there?
I'm older now than someone I used to love ever was
and there's so much I still haven't done.
what makes them any better than me?
in truth, I thought I'd be dead already.
since being old and gray isn't a guarantee,
I just want to do all I need to do.

the real folk blues

a crowd is gathered in the hall,
and every one of them is waiting.
waiting or something wonderful to happen.
they see the stage where soon,
the band will play.
anticipation builds among the crowd.
they're waiting for a moment, a beat, a single note
where they'll forget it all --
a young woman grabs a drink
an older man puts his arm around his wife.
the lights dim, they take their seats --
in a moment,
the music will make them feel alive.

I'll see you in my dreams

some days, most days
I wonder where you are,
who you're with,
and how you pass the time.
I think of the time I knew you -
it's a memory, a dream, even.
Still, I don't know if it was even real.
you were a flicker in which everything changed
but once you were gone everything went back
to the way it was, almost as if
had never been there at all.
still, I soldier on, trying to make sense of life
and of you, even if it was all together brief.

rhythm of the rain

a rainy day is not like it is in movies
and yet I can see why it's inspiring.
dark, gray clouds have hung above us for weeks now,
what seems like an endless time without the sun.
on one hand, I long to feel its warmth,
on the other, there is a quiet peace in the gloom and gray,
in the sound of the rain as it falls to the ground
and rinses away all those old negative things
I associate with the past.
I tell myself the rain must be here now
while I wait for the sun to come out, and it will,
because it never left us, it's just hiding.
and when it does, it feel that much sweeter.
until then, I think of it as calming,
and comforting to be inside
once the thunder rolls in.

it's now or never

it was springtime then, if you even could call it spring
for the rain fell endlessly and the sky was so clouded over
that I forgot the sensation of sunlight on my skin.
the worst was over, the coldest days were done,
and yet I drifted in a strange sort of limbo.
i was thinking of you and all we could be.
you were so far away,
but still i wondered if you thought of me too.

goodbye until tomorrow

for all of us in this world, there are
moments, people, places, things,
that remind us why life is worth living.
until then, we drift in a sort of haze
day by day, motion by notion,
drifting endlessly from sunup to sundown
until we do it all again
and before we know it it's been a year,
two years, three, and we're older than
we ever wanted to be.
and then you came along.
I knew you would change me, but you've done so
more than I could have ever anticipated.
now that we must say goodbye, I realized
that you are the very thing I live for.
I don't want to go back to drifting, but I know I must.
still, I think I'm better for having known you,
and I will carry you with me for the rest of my days
until I meet someone like you again.

all our yesterdays

yesterday, tomorrow, today,
past, future, present,
all of it co-exists.
the present becomes the past
and the present becomes the future,
and yesterday only lasts because we
remember and we tell its stories.

it's deep, profound and sad
when I think about how I can to
never go back yesterday
and tomorrow can both
surprise and disappoint me.

yesterday was fun,
and tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow
is in my thoughts, and yet
I don't want to leave behind today.

these violent delights

many springtimes ago,
someone lit a fire within me,
if I think long enough, and hard enough,
I can go right back to that moment in time.
I can look at a photograph at myself at fourteen years old
and remember too - the same as I am now,
but much soften around the edges.

the handsome sixteen year old
and I sat outside for lunch
on one of the first warm days of the year.
the sun against his blonde hair and blue eyes
made him seem like a Greek God
or at least that's how he seems in the haze of my memory.
He told me that I had talent and after that
it was inevitable that I'd fall in love with him,
days and nights were soon spent daydreaming
of all that we could be.

I know now, eleven years later,
that he didn't mean to hurt me,
that he was a kid just as much as me

that fourteen year old was dumb, and
she still thought things would always turn out like the movies.
and I wonder how he'd seem to me if I saw him now.

still, even so, every time springtime rolls around,
I see the grass turning green and the buds on the trees,
and I hope for the possibility that summer will bring.

somewhere

some day, you and I will live in a world where we belong
and we'll find what everyone on this earth
is searching for. All the greats have written about it,
but sometimes I wonder if it's just an illusion.
happiness, is that too much to ask for?
I see people who have everything that I want,
and they're still searching, just like all of us.
I hope it's not all not smoke and mirrors,
because if it is, I don't know how else to hang on.
Yet, I'd like to believe in happiness,
because the world has given me teases of it before.

boho days

this is the life, or so they say--
twenty-five years old,
friends are getting married,
working six figure jobs,
and some are even having kids.
what about me?
as hard as I work, and as much as I dream,
it's hard to feel like I'm being left behind.
did I do something wrong?

debt is weighing me down like a hundred ton weight
while an overbearing family, dead end job
and broken dreams pull me towards the ground,
leaving me unable to stand on my own two feet.
twenty-six will be here in the blink of an eye,
then twenty-seven, twenty-eight,
and I still feel like than seventeen year old kid
who believed the world was ahead of her
and that I'd be married with a cushy job
and a house of my own.

maybe I should enjoy life as it is,
and I'm trying, but I just want to know
that I'll be able to free myself of these weights
and stand up again someday.

once upon a dream

little girl, dressed in pink
little girl, full of dreams,
you don't know what the world has in store for you.
you live in a dream world,
light years away from from the
monotony of your simple existence,
and you think about the woman
you'll one day be.
she has one piece of advice for you,
and wishes you would hear it --
enjoy this time, because you
don't know
how much you'll miss it.

juliet has a gun

Beautiful, sad girl, let me tell you,
I understand why you are crying.
the world seems to be collapsing in around you--
you fell in love, and he made you feel in ways
you never knew were possible.
now, everyone wants to punish you,
and you want to take back the control
you felt you lost.

let me tell you, pretty girl,
someone here is listening,
somewhere here understands.
My words might be too late,
far too late, to save you,
but we are listening, and we will listen still.