Young Writers Society

I wrote this yesterday but I'm posting it today because I couldn't get on yesterday for some reason. Today's to come later.

12 April

"It would be absurd if we did not understand both angels and devils, since we invented them." – John Steinbeck

Hey, you, come over and take this camera
that dangles from my neck. It is too dark
for photographs here on the streets, after sunset,
the scream of a trumpet echoing from some
faraway stage and the rude, crooked streetlamps
pouring orange light down on our heads.
We are wild tonight, grasping hands and spinning
and reveling in the creation of new melodies. Jazz
is all invention. A saxophone joins that lonely trumpet.
We are dangling from stars tonight, springing
up from the concrete, angels and devils all at once.

12 April

I don't know about this one. It was just a bit confusing, a bit slow, a bit forced. It was certainly enigmatic, wonderfully characterized, and your descriptions were excellent.

"Hey, you, come over and take this camera"

This first line is too informal. "Hey, you" seems more like trash speak, more like impoverished slang, unnecessary. "Come over"? Too redundant. It doesn't fit the persona you continue in line 2, who seems much more reflective, passive, and intellectual: "dangles from my neck", "the scream of a trumpet", "rude, crooked lamplights."\\

(I personally liked reading the second persona better.)

Thanks for reading and commenting, Gadi!

The following poem is what happens when I say to a friend, also participating in NaPoWriMo, that I have nothing to write about. She said, "How about we each click on six random links in Wikipedia and then give each other the resulting topics?" She gave me "Equinox." I gave her "Dublin." And then "Alphabet" because "Dublin" isn't a good topic for a poem.

Anyway:


13 April

When I was a little girl,
growing up like Black-Eyed Susans
on the side of that little hill
that overlooked the valley,

I imagined that the days and nights
drifted into being as victory leaned
toward one side or another in some
perpetual battle between moon and sun,

one plunging the other's head down
below the horizon again and again,
each winning for a few hours,
admitting defeat, winning again,

but never surrendering; when the
equinox came the March after
my seventeenth birthday, and I leaned
over my physics book, a student of science,

the Black-Eyed Susans were gone,
and the sun and the moon shook hands
and walked together down
the little path that was dusk.

I really love it. Your imagery is vivid and it flows well. I think the last three stanzas are better than the first two. I'm not sure about the first line...it didn't really grab my attention. Maybe try getting to the point more quickly. The last line also seemed a little out of place, though I'm not quiet sure why...Other than that, it was really great. Hope this helps.

Jas

Thanks for commenting, Jas!


14 April

She and I were talking about death
as the late hours turned over into Monday.
She is always the romantic; she promises
herself to the heroic end—to die for something
or someone—she promises herself
to the brave end, to the jump
in front of the bullet.

I want to grow old.
I promise myself to the peaceful end,
to the years of feeding birds in the park
and yelling at teenagers as the elderly
are entitled to do. But to grow old
is not the absence of heroism;
I may take the bullets, and survive
to die softly in bed, glad of my age
and my wounds all at once.

15 April is being posted a day late because I was off driving to (hence the poem) and visiting Wellesley College, so it was written not on my laptop, but in a dorm at Wellesley on a piece of notebook paper. 16 April to come later tonight. Enjoy!


15 April

out here on the highway,
watching the tips of branches
melt before the sunrise,
we feel as though we are
spinning these wheels
toward something deeply
important. we have
been on the road barely an hour,
still watching the signs
count down the miles to albany,
watching the great steel supports
that stand so rigidly
above the concrete, stringing
telephone lines across the
cornfields, like little
girls playing jump-rope,
double dutch, movement
so small in its little corner
of the world that we realize
how near, really, is the
massachusetts border. and we
feel a little less important then,
and drive on east into the sun.

16 April

Ah, how could I ever forget you?
My father said he saw your name in the paper—
something about baseball.
I used to chase you
down the halls of our elementary school,
do you remember? Kiley and I screamed
your name down the little squirming lines
after gym class. "We love you!"
We were all seven. She and I
considered you our first crush;
we delighted in your embarrassment,
you know.
You turned pink and ran. You must
run now, round the bases and across
the outfield, pink
in the cheeks from all your running,
and some girl is screaming for you
in the stands, and you
are her first love.

17 April

If you love this earth, this land,
Come out from the shaded places,
Take the sunlight into you, hand
Me dandelions and Queen Anne's Lace:
The loveliest flowers are the weeds
Which grow by the side of the street,
Strung along the gutter like beads
On a necklace of gravel and concrete.

Hi Cade,

poetry is one of the things I know little to nothing about, but I enjoyed reading yours. I think I'll just go ahead and comment a little, but I can't say a lot for my knowledge is not all that great.

17- I really enjoyed this. Beautiful imagery. It made me want to go outside and feel the sun and take a closer look at the flowers. Also I find the comparisin to a necklace very neat. It's original.

16- You had me hooked from the very first line. Made me want to know more about the person you'd forgotten and why you think you shoulldn't have done so. The story behind it is very cute and I can picture it all very well. Also I think you tie everything together very neatly with the pink in his face and the girl in the stands. Very enjoyable.

15- I wasn't too flattered by this one. You have nice imagery and I like your wording, but it didn't really evoque any feelings in me.

14- It took me a while to get into this one. I wasn't too fond of the first stanza, but then I really came to like the second. I can't really make out what bothered me in the first part though, so this probably isn't a lot of help.

Looking forward to more!

~Kalliope

Thanks for your input, Kalliope! I feel the same way you do about 14...I'm going to be working that one out for a long time.

18 April

On the main street, between Sleepy Hollow Lane
and the cul-de-sac where the crabapple tree

dapples the grass with pink each spring,
you can look up and see a bird's nest in one

of the budding branches that extends beyond
the lawn. Bark and mud, it puts you in mind of

a china teacup cradled in a frail and bony hand,
so low over the road a passing garbage truck

might sock it right out of its little home.




[EDIT: Whoa, I wrote two today! Never expected to do that, but I guess I'm feeling especially poetic on this fine evening.]




18.2

A man stands in the shade on the corner.
He pulls you in with his soft voice
and his hands and his face, halfway
between one-too-many-cigarettes
and the rough brightness that comes
of living outside in a Rochester winter.

He gives you
atonement for free, love at half-off,
broken records for half what you'd pay
anywhere else in this city.

April 1: I like this one. I think it could have been more poetic, concentrating on the imagery more than the narrative but it was good and the persona is easy to relate to. Maybe make it more than just a reflection though and give a hint that the persona is dying soon or has lost someone, add a little more background to it. Good work!

April 2: This one is beautiful in its simplicity. It flows really well and I think that you could have had more imagery or described the other person's reaction more -- disappointment? Perhaps questions as to what was being written then?-- but it was good.

April 3: This is a cute little poem. The rhyme and rhythm are rather effective but the imagery isn't particularly strong or the picture vivid. Still, it's nice and it's pretty.

April 4: I think it's very much a stream of consciousness poem but the style actually compliments the content. I think the fast pace works nicely and the start is lovely. Could have been longer, more descriptive but in general I liked it.

April 5: This is my favourite so far, particularly that first stanza. The persona has a lovely tone of voice that adds a soothing and at the same time, slightly creepy feel and the questions are well posed. Nicely thought-provoking.

April 6: I like this. I think it would be better if the narrator's tone were stronger. There's a touch of bitterness lurking in that ending and I'd like to see it extended throughout the other lines, little hints that she doesn't want this child to grow up. Also, I think the line towards the end about grandchildren feels out of place.

April 7: I think the idea behind this is great and something that we can all relate to but concentrate more on the graffitti than the river or the students, I think. Maybe describe more than one piece; some writing, some images, some just a mix of colours so faded that it's barely visible. And perhaps add that it wont last forever, that there will come a time when the graffitti is not there either. I think your style (beautiful as it is) works best in poetry that has a touch of negativity.

April 8: This one is good. The voice of the Narrator is very strong. I think your imagery could have been stronger and more unique though.

April 9: This one is a little bland. There's some good ideas behind it like 'orphans of the universe' but I think you need to extend on those points and work towards making that ending more dramatic.

April 10: I normally hate repetetive, prosey poems and I disliked the beginning (note, disliked, not hated) but it did come together quite nicely at the end. I think the tone is strong and your persona would be an awesome character in a book but it's certainly not my favourite.

April 11: This is good. I think the lines about pulling in your heart could be stronger and that jump from physical actions used as metaphors to one that's completely metaphorical could be smoother but the end is brilliant and the imagery worked really well.

April 12: I'm not sure about this one. There's a lovely, energetic feel to it but at the same time, the characters could be defined more strongly and there is little sense of a setting or emotion.

April 13: I love this one. There's such a beautiful theme and it's very well written, particularly the ending. I think the first stanza was a little weak but other than that, I really can't fault it.

April 14: I like this one. I think the twist at the end could have been much stronger, with a greater emphasis on the fact that wanting to live a full life is just as brave and wonderful as wanting to die for someone or something. Maybe you could even add a final little section/ line that's a little out of it, that's a reflection on her friend's answers. Something like 'I hope she dodges those bullets long enough to grow old enough, wise enough to never want to die' or just something that adds a little more emotion. I think also, maybe take another look at the punctuation in the first section, about the other person. Change some of the dashes and full-stops to commas, give it a stronger, faster rhythm to reflect the content.

April 15: This one is pretty. The imagery and the narration are both very nice and I don't really have anything else to say. It wasn't great, it wasn't thought-provoking, informative or highly emotional but it's like a little snap-shot of description and I like that.

April 16: I like this one. i think it effectively shows how people grow apart and at the same time, never forget. The emotions could be stronger though. Does she feel regret that someone else will be cheering for him in the stands? Does she have an impulse to seek out more, to re-kindle the relationship?

April 17: I love the irregular rhyme in this and the imagery is pretty and the theme is nice. This line - 'Take the sunlight into you, hand' needs some editing I think. It's a little awkward to read becaause I want to say 'your hand' but maybe place hand on the next line? That would make more sense and I think it would run more smoothly.

April 18 (1): I'm not sure about this one. There's something about the ending that feels too weak and in general, it's a touch dull. The use of colour is nice and it flows well but I think the content and imagery could both be stronger.

April 18 (2): I like this one much better. It feels a touch short and yet at the same time, it's the perfect length and the opening line could have been more dramatic but I love the words in the second stanza. Good work.

I know I already thanked you in your own thread, but...Heather...wow...
Oh, and in 17, 'hand' is on the one line to service the rhyme scheme in the poem. Obviously...a work in progress.


19 April

The artists delight in suffering,
in despair, in killing. A projector which descends from
the ceiling flashes images before us, burning villages,
bullet-holes and scars in expanses of human flesh,
empty-eyed women holding children we know
are dead by the time these photographs made it back
to the United States. We leave the gallery feeling
many things, and one of these is that artists delight
in suffering, though the despair they go in search of
kills some of them in the end like poison in the blood,
and how can I hold a camera ever again, knowing
what might be on the other side of the shutter?

20 April

Bella and I search for four-leaf clovers
in the grass just past the sidewalk. I am jealous
as a child is jealous,
because she has found three already, and I
only one. Surprising
that we would find so many, even,
in this small place in the sun,
and to think, statistically, how many
there must be in
the lawns all over town.
A cloud passes somewhere over
the distant gas stations, bakeries,
roads rolling down to the city,
where it is raining,
but here it is vaguely sunny in that way
that is warm, but not bright, because
clouds pass nearby. And we push
ourselves off the grass
when the trees rustle
in that way that make us feel a storm
deep down inside of us,
clutching our clovers.
It starts to rain as I bicycle home,
knowing that some days you just
pluck a little less luck out of the dirt
than the next human being.

the laws all over town.

laws? Even if it's a miss-type, I like it. And I like the lilting tone to the rest as well. ^_^

April 20th;

I really love this one. The story is interesting, the tone is appropriate, and it flows well. I especially enjoyed;
"I am jealous
as a child is jealous,
because she has found three already, and I
only one."

"and to think, statistically, how many
there must be in
the lawns all over town"

The ending is brilliant.

My only suggestions are;
1) I'd change "bicycle" to "cycle", as I think the former sounds a little odd.
2) For no particular reason except a vague urge, I'd break this into stanzas before "A cloud" and "It starts to rain".

Hope this helps.

Jas