Young Writers Society

***

Day One



Anywhere else,

in a box of a
world of bright lights screaming
to be acknowledged
in an echoingly imploded space
in an undecorated
unflourished note of notice,
a spiked forest of
chimes winding to the same air

I might not exist.


***


Hehe, this should be fun ^_^ Especially since it's in the same spirit as NaNo

I rather liked the first and last lines. They were sort of like, "whoa".

In between gets a bit fuzzy and I really think expanding what you have to include more locations would help bring in some ideas you could play with.

I dislike the word "echoingly".

This was quite nice: "a spiked forest of / chimes winding to the same air"

I liked the "poem within a poem" effect--that's quite cool. However, in order to make that stand out more, I was sort of waiting for the lines in the middle to feel more frenzied. That's just a matter of taking out words, though. ^_^

This is great, Leja. I agree that your beginning and end are the strongest aspect but I love the idea of an 'imploded space' though I have to agree I don't like echoingly. Maybe 'In an echo filled imploded space' would be smoother?

Thanks all ^_^

First off, I did honestly write 2 April's poem on 2 April, but I got to it so late that it was past the time that one should be using the computer, haha. I'm much happier with today's poem than yesterday's poem, however, so really, it doesn't even matter all that much ^_^ My poems are always so short. I want to write a long one tomorrow.

***

2 April

Even though my pen
is dying, it sputters last inks of
rose-white ideas.

And it hopes that
its writer will do better tomorrow, as
it dictates these ideas between the stars.

***

3 April

Her hands were the only reasons she
was allowed to take notes.
Fingers drip-tipped in mercury, they
hung from her wrists like lead
dropping whole thoughts as
beads, collected together,
fell at once from each finger and
always sucked part of her with them.

2 April;

I really like the imagery in the first verse. Though you forgot the 't' in "last".
I love "rose-white." I think that the second stanza is weaker in comparison, and that the first two lines are a little too colloquial, though "between the stars" is nice.

3 April;

This is really great, but I must admit that I don't really understand it... I like "drip-tipped", and "dripping whole thoughts as
beads". I think I'd choose another word instead of "dripped" as you use "drip" a lot for such a short poem, and a touch stale. A great piece overall.

Ooh, thanks for pointing that out, Jasmine. I totally didn't notice! *will edit* ^_^

On 3 April,

Okay, this poem blows my fricken mind. It's amazing! I don't have a problem with the dripping and then the dropped, because they are different conjugations. Actually, I really like the repetition of the hard d sounds.

Ta,
Cal.

April 3

I was impressed with this one. The imagery was lovely. I really loved the last four lines. And the two before them. The only part I wasn't so sure about was the second line. I'm sure you wrote this about a class or something, but I would really suggest taking out that line and make her write a letter or something less mundane as notes. Unless maybe you specify them as love notes?

Actually, I meant her to be more of a secretary as a meeting. Kinda like she wasn't good at anything else, so that's the only way she was allowed to do, yet what she was good at wasn't necessarily the best for her health. Definitely something I'll keep in mind when I edit ^_^


Day Four

Hey, here, stand ready now
on the brink of borders waiting to
be pulled together.
Watch as they needle their way in
to this box, waiting by to change something
unexplained at the last possible second.
Have all preparations been
so difficult? Wait while this place
comes crashing together as if it
had never even seen the forcefield
and the ground will convulse beneath
their feet, dancing around until
someone else decides it's better
that they don't.
Watch us fix this.

Of course, I wrote this one late again, and didn't have the motivation to turn on the computer that late XD So I'll probably be back later with today's poem. In any case, I'm happy because today's ended up being longer than ten lines ^_^


Day Five: How to Give the Personal Narrative of a Former Lemming

to have water
drip
drip
down the drainpipes was giving
soul to anyone who once
asked
what does it mean to be human
and was answered with
drip
drip
from the drainpipe,
given reason to believe that
everyone, all or nothing, from
one
single
pipe
would look up at the sky,
counting clouds from treetop
to treetop only
to fall off the edge of a
house copper-topped
so that they can
watch a drip, drip
off the drainpipe
absorb into the flowers at
the end,
so that they can sit
as a sounding pad
for new drips who fall off
one single pipe
so that altogether
they can sit and wonder
what is it like to be human?

On Day Four,

Oh. Wow, Leja. This poem is so beautiful. I love the imagery of something being stitched together. Lovely stuff.

On Day Five,

I really like the content of this poem, but feel the format is off.




Ta,
Cal.

Day five:

I really like this, especially the arrangment of "drip drip drip" as it mirrors the dripping. I especially like;

"counting clouds from treetop
to treetop only
to fall off the edge of a
house copper-topped ".

Day four:

This is great. It flows perfectly and you express yourself beautifully. I especially liked;Watch as they needle their way in
to this box, waiting by to change something
unexplained at the last possible second.
Have all preparations been
so difficult?"

"Have all preparations been
so dofficult?" reminded me a little of Elizabeth Bishop, which was nice.

Keep it up!
Jas
"

Alas, day six is a dud ><


If ever I had considered
giving equal consideration to
Moby Dick and Beethoven,
I was severely mistaken because
First of all, they're the wrong
kinds of notes and Second of
all, only one really understands how
things in the ocean can live together
and only some of them get eaten
every day.

Haha, I love how the farther we get into the month the more and more everyone's poems are narrative and less and less poemetric lol.

Very cute subject. Interesting thought *scratches head*