Young Writers Society

All the cool kids have a thread, so I should too. *envelopes herself in the fold of awesome around her* Feel free to comment.

And here is the poem for yesterday (My April First) The next to come tonight some time. ^^

April 1.

Caught.
Pushed against the hard metal, face sliced by silver,
You wait. The lick of ice pressing against your skin,
It is cold, and you shiver. The weight hardens and
Pain blooms behind your eyes, you cry. This world,
Pretentious and hidden in plain sight, is not yours.
You wonder, as caged animals do, when you will return.
Free.


*Hearts* Le Penguin.

Squee for double posts? This thing will be full of my posting by the end of this month. xD Because it's the easiest way to keep track for me. *is a lostie*


April 2.

Laughter came first, pressing in against your ears
Like a cotton blanket, muffled but obvious.
Obscurity continued, abstract lines on a white page,
And your eyes stung with errant tears. Perhaps,
In some sense-filled world, your suffering would have
Counted towards an end. It did not.
Your lips parted, twisting and curving with the skill
Of nimble acrobats. There was nothing,
A gaping hole where sound should have been,
Your tears could not heal this wound. And in the morning,
When light slips fingers along the edge of skyscrapers,
You will find your voice, falling behind with the moon, as always,
Waiting for another day to lose.

Your April 1 poem made me feel rather uncomfortable, but that's a good thing! Eh, I don't know if there's much to say beyond that.

In your April 2 poem, I like how laughter is described as something much less than obvious, and how that immediately leads to "obscurity" in the line that follows it. Actually, I really like how this idea continues strong throughout the poem. "And in the morning,
When light slips fingers along the edge of skyscrapers, " <-- what a pretty, delicate image

Happy writing!

Your April 1 poem has some great imagery and emotion. I think the structure could use some work but generally I liked it. I'm not sure that 'Free' is a strong ending but I love the use of Caught as a beginning and the way it's placed on a separate line.

I think I prefer April 2. The flow is lovely and you convey the emotion well through your imagery which is, as always, so pretty. I really like how your mind thinks, some of those descriptions at the beginning are very unique. Good work.

I love you both. ^^ Thanks so much! ^^

April 3.

She is walking along the water,
making moves that look so imaginary
that you’re not sure you believe.
Clots of fluorescent lights sway with the waves,
and your world begins to rock, as she does.
There is a rush, seagulls taking flight,
as she twirls, flashing strobe colours across the sea.
Thrusting her spinning top into the air to reflect the stars,
She slips down against the swell and waits there,
hands pressed to her shut eyes,
hoping for the point to fall.

I'm in love with this one, dear! It's so imaginative and beautiful. There's a gorgeous air of mystery to 'she' and I'm wondering is it perhaps a lighthouse? Or am I just reading too deeply into this? Either way it's very well written and your approach to description is so refreshing. Great work.

Clots of fluorescent lights sway with the waves,

I love the word "clots" here. All the words, actually, are strong individually and in conjunction with each other, which only adds power to the poem as a whole. I like the image of sitting against a swell of water, and I really do feel like I'm in the middle of the waves

Hey Penguin.

April 3

You have great images here. I personally liked your mentions of color. Mixed with the water imagery, there was a sort of magical effect.

There are times when key words or phrases put into poems elicit really ridiculous or humorous responses in readers, through no fault of the author, but more often than not, you want to take these phrases/words out of your poems when they affect large groups. "Flock of seagulls" is one of these phrases. It was the name of an 80s rock band and when I read the name it made me chuckle, and I know that there are other people out there who would do the same. Not necessarily a good thing. I'd think about finding another way of saying it.

Thanks so much you guys! I'm really glad you liked it.

How do you think the edit is, Trident?

This one is.. neh, I don't like it at all, it fails to end, I think. >< All comments recieved with love.

April 4

Sugared strawberries lifted to her lips,
Syrup dripping to the blackened tabletop.
She laughed, tilting her freckled nose
for the sun to kiss, and spread her fingers
Out to meet your own. Smooth but gritty,
They stuck, labouring to pull free through
Liquid sugar. She blows her hair from her lips
With a lopsided grin, all sunshine and light.

April 1 - Not much to say! It's rather short. But the imagery was beautiful in it. I shivered. ^_^

April 2 - Again, what am I supposed to say? This is good.

When light slips fingers along the edge of skyscrapers,

I love the personification right there. It's so beautiful! I think I'd like to see more emotion in the poems? They have emotion, but they're kind of... hm. I'm not sure how to describe it. Sorry. That isn't helpful.

April 3 - I feel so useless. Again, I enjoyed this. Your use of the word "clot" made me really happy.

April 4 - I love the imagery of the sugar and dripping and the sun, but I think the problem is because all the poem is is description, it has no real... idea behind it? Or, it's just talking about the girl. Even when describing something, there can be a sort of theme to it. Like, maybe the girl is like the strawberry because..she's red and fat. Obviously, that makes no sense, but you get what I'm saying! I think it needs more of an idea behind it, something for it to say. Basically, what do you want your reader to feel/think/believe by the end? ^_^

You use such pretty word with everything, though! wonderful. I look forward to the rest of the month.

Squee! Thanks for that Zeus. I'ma work on that now. ^^

Not sure if I like this one. Working on the emotion now.

April 5 - Dedicated to Athena. ^^

At midnight, when true terrors sleep, she sits
Hands planted on weathered board. The smooth lines
Of her closed eyes clash with the hard winkles
Surrounding them. Her body slips, the quick rush
Of fear filling her system, before she stops,
Breath pushing from her stunned lips. The thrill ends.

In the morning she will turn, walk back.
Her hair red and toes yellow, she will listen, as always,
to the classic hits as she does her housework.
Eyes never touching on the small peace that sits
direct from the window, even as she dies a little more.
Waiting for her own tomorrow.

Poem 5:

Ooooh, I really love this, especially;
"before she stops,
Breath pushing from her stunned lips. The thrill ends."
and;

"Her hair red and toes yellow, she will listen, as always,
to the classic hits as she does her housework. " It's a very vivid description.

If I nitpick,
"even as she dies a little more.
Waiting for her own tomorrow"
seems a touch cliche, but I'm not sure it matters all that much overall.

Jas

Thanks Jasmine. ^^ I'll see what I can do about le cliche. Thankd for reading. ^^

Yesterday I was feeling rather terrible - and YWS was out everytime I tried to touch it later in the day - so I couldn't post this. This is my April 6, April 7 to come later tonight sometime... maybe

April 6

Eyes sparked rudimentary memories
that I had no intention of keeping.
Her breath stilled in the air
while I gasped for moments lost.
She made me wonder, you see,
about a life I never wanted, that I never had.
And I, in return, stole that which she never
knew she deserved.

She had no name.
I gave her none.

(It's rather terrible now I read it over. ^^ But! Time to work on that April 7 I'm meant to produce.

*Hearts* Le Penguin.

April 7

I should take you into an embrace,
though it seems hard to look at you from here,
and prove to you my love. It is an alien concept,
this slick wait between emotions, and I find
myself stuttering on the edge of a precipice I cannot see.
I feel it, the unconsciously conscious thud
of marching blood between my ears.
That small army of life chatters behind my eyes,
thickening the veins of my whites. I never move,
although I know you expect me to. I can see,
in your eyes, the darkest red of the tallest poppy,
and wonder when you shall fall, as I am wont to.

April 4: Such pretty description, my love but I agree that it would be better if you had a theme or a story behind it rather than just the description.

April 5: I'm not as fond of this one. I think you've chosen an excellent subject but it feels more prose than poetry. I think if you made the structure more poetic, that would help and you do have some pretty phrases but it needs something that will cause a greater impact.

April 6:

Her breathe stilled in the air

Should be breath. This one isn't great but it has potential. I think you should work more on the story behind it. Why did this person not give her child a name?

April 7:

although I know you expect me too.

Should be to. I think this one is good but it needs some work. You have some lovely unique imagery but the content is rather ordinary.