Young Writers Society

April 19

I’m waiting again, quietly,
Hiding behind the pillars of faith,
The crumbling rock on which Moses stood.
It’s not the same, of course,
But it brings the comfort of the ages,
And perhaps a couple more.
It was an age of wonder, only moments past,
When your lips parted, and breath ceased
for the masses, only belonging to you.
You whispered, softly, against my cheek
And I crumbled, as trembling rocks do,
“All I have is you.”
The memory stopped, your light faded,
And I sit and cower, one more sheep
For the shepherd to lose.


April 20

The eyelash on the teardrop,
I watched it melt into liquid
And wondered, as philosophers do,
Why.

April 21

it is yours, always yours,
This notion of something more.
Even the sound of it crackles with you, Love.
Pulsing with the feeling of your hair against my neck,
Your lips on my nose and the cold nudge of your toes.
But it breaks easily, your Love, against the curve of breath,
Buffering and shuddering until there’s nothing left.

April 22

Split-grinned and hoarse, he whispered,
"No more, no more"
One pariah's proclamation, with lips pressed closed;
"Live in the moment"
But, what are words but slips
of motion twisted into nothingness.
So the broken images splay the pavement,
slowly embedded in bare feet,
and the words are too many.

April 23- Little Glitters.

Obese with luminescence,
It hurls, kinetic static, through the darkness.
The night blows and billows with it,
Popping dust like bubblegum in the mouths of children.
It seems to shudder and halt against the sky,
Tails flickering with heat as they fail.
dying without vigour, without honour.
And she watches, emerald nails poised above scarlet lips,
Miming puffs of half-formed prays
As the lights go out.

April 24

His breath catches on the hook of her lips,
They tangle. He tugs and she follows,
The dance slipping, as they do, into the heat
Of the moment. Her hair curls as he dips her,
Shivering as he falters, the coupled sway and lurch
In the curve of her back. She is righted.
His hands roam, her hands contain.
Thick beats swell, she is swept up once more,
Pounding and shuddering against his skin.
He is moved. The crescendo peaks,
And she steps back, finished.

April 25

Write me a love note.
Sign it with your name, flick and flourish,
And pretend it wasn’t you.
Let butterflies thrill, posing and pouting
against my skin, as I open.
Its scent is yours; vegemite and nutella
curling up and around my body, until I feel you.
It will wait, that smell, wafting around my temples.

Write in cursive,
tips of your ‘y’ mingling into the ‘u’
So the words are a mesh of your hands.
Kiss the corner,
press your thumb to your name,
Even if you don’t want to.
Send me your love,
give me that piece of you.

April 15: This one is interesting. I love the rhythm and the repitition works really well but you should expand on your imagery, especially 'the moon is in bloom' because that's really unique and pretty! I think the last line was a touch unoriginal but generally, I like it.

April 16: The imagery of this one is beautiful and it's very cleverly written! Just a few punctuation suggestions:

and taste, they culled the competition, [Maybe a semi colon here?]
no cherries to be found, my dears.

they’re super survivors now, living it up, [I think you should change this to a full stop just for the sake of being more dramatic.]
they’re primed to die.


April 17: This one is gorgeous! Especially the ending, that was rather unexpected. The imagery is beautiful and there's such a strong atmosphere. It's easily one of my favourites.

the feeling of your whisper travels up my
bare spine and thuds home at the pulse in my throat,
your name is still on the tip of my tongue. [I'd suggest either ending the previous line in a semi colon or changing this to 'your name still on the tip of my tongue.']

April 18: Apparently does not exist?
_________________________

Must dash but I shall read and comment on the others tonight, my dear xx

April 19: I don't like the line - And perhaps a couple more. - because it feels colloquial, out of place and a little unecessary but other than that, I thought it was good. The religious theme worked nicely and it flows beautifully.

April 20: This one is peculiar. It's an interesting idea but there isn't really any beautiful imagery or in-depth meaning. It's a cute little poem but too short for my tastes. Also, I'd suggest a semi colon or a full colon at the end of line one?

April 21: Not my favourite but it's nice -

it is yours, always yours, [Any particular reason for not using a capital to start with? And then capitals for every other line... it's interesting and I'd love to know the reasoning behind it.]
This notion of something more.
Even the sound of it crackles with you, Love. [I'd suggest a comma here.]
Pulsing with the feeling of your hair against my neck,
Your lips on my nose and the cold nudge of your toes.
But it breaks easily, your Love, against the curve of breath, [I love this line! And the flow and half rhyme of this and the next work perfectly.]
Buffering and shuddering until there’s nothing left.

April 22: There's a rather jerky rhythm to this that works nicely and you have some interesting imagery. I don't quite undertsand it but in one sense, that broken, complex feel it has is good and I think, maybe I don't want or need to understand it because I like it anyway =)

April 23: I like the circular pattern of this one, how it starts and ends with light but I think it feels a touch fragmented and the imagery could have been stronger. The ending and beginning are better than the middle These two lines in particular could be greatly improved:

It seems to shudder and halt against the sky, [I'm sure you could think of a more interesting way to phrase this or a metaphor to represent it. Is the motion like a pendulum? Shuddering back and forth before it swings to a halt or closer to something else? A train perhaps?]
Tails flickering with heat as they fail. [The simplicity of this bothered me a little. I'd love to see you expand it, build on the imagery.]

April 24: The ending was a little anti-climatic but I liked the atmosphere this one created. One part, this -

...the coupled sway and lurch
In the curve of her back.

- sounds a little awkward but in general, it's written nicely.

April 25: This one is beautiful. The tone is so refreshing and I just love... well it. I can't fault it, to be honest. There's something very pleasant and fresh about it.

April 26

Foolish little boy,
I tried.
While you, slick with promise,
Whispered nothings in my ear.
(You, who are the clarinet,
lying forgotten on the music stand.
You who have forgotten what sounds are.)
And they slipped, those everythings,
from my fumbling fingers,
little glitters that shattered through morning dew.
But, I never could hold you for long,
Even when I wanted to.
In the dark of the encroaching light
And the scent of wet bark and ladybugs,
Through the forgotten truths and murmured promises,
I tried.
But I never wanted your love.

April 26: I really love this one. The flow is great, and I love the imagery, especially;

"You, who are the clarinet,
lying forgotten on the music stand."

The tone is really powerful and effective and I love the ending. I also really liked;
"Even when I wanted to."
Wish I could be more helpful, but I can't fault this.

April 22:
The last five llines are very powerful, but I think the beginning is a lttile weak. Lines four and two were a little stale, and it doesn't really prepare the reader for the brilliance that is the second half.

April 23:

The atmosphere is brilliant and the imagery is great. It flows well, and you express yourself beautifully. I especially enjoyed;

"The night blows and billows with it,
Popping dust like bubblegum in the mouths of children.
It seems to shudder and halt against the sky".

24: I really love this one. It's very effective and you don't waste words. The imagery is great and I love the sudden ending.


25: This one is lovely...it's unusual that I like love poetry...my only suggestion is that you cut
"with your name"
as it's a little obvious and you don't need it.

Thanks Jas! You rock! *huggles* ^^


I dunno about either of these... they went off and didn't finish or died or something. xD

April 27

These are the days I forget to hate you,
While the pungent ribbon of lilies wraps
Around my wrist, pulling tight,
And I am overwhelmed by who you used to be.
The willow weeps, rustling against the breeze
and the scent of decay seeps into uncovered flesh.
Even now, while the silky expanse of poppy petals
Plummet to the sifted soil, I let them die.
Flowers never were your favourite

April 28

I am cold;
The tipping glacier in the storm,
Slowly enveloped in liquid ice.

There is no solace in solitary death.

Lips numb, locked together in silence,
I wonder what my last words were.

But this cold is soft,
Curling and seeping with murmured
Apology, I settle in.

They are claws now, my fingernails,
As they cut into the latent warmth
Of my palms. I am fisted frozen.
I feel the smooth heat of new blood
Ooze from the sickle slices, it hurts.

Dollops of exhaustion slap into me, now,
Pleasing the sallow pallor of my cheeks.
My eyelashes frost.

I am warm.

April 29

In the corner,
where all dunce-children sit,
were your pens.

They didn’t mean anything,
you were child prodigy in
blue spackled trousers,
but their colours entranced me.
They pulsed silent concentration,
that indefinable quality you beaded
from red jam-sticked fingers
and a mouth that ran without cause.

I wanted them.
Even as you sucked on the green pen lid,
and drew ochre swords burning against your knees,
they asked me to play.

Remnants of that period
when you were nothing
but “that white kid who refused to wear a shirt”
reminding me that you always were beyond me.

You, and those pens,
I still desire so desperately.

April 30

Your body curls against the settee,
all contours and curves in the light.

Now you are the bronze goddess,
Artemis without her bow, more naked
with your clothes than without.

And as the light fades,
your glow shimmering into dusk,
you are medusa, waking from
mirrored sleep, dark glances
and hushed defiance.

Still, the elegance is in your limbs;
arm flinging itself limp over the edge,
brushing so slightly along the wall.
and in the sweet pout of your lips,
flicking up in that mistress smirk,
highlighting your lidded eyes.

Perhaps you are Aphrodite after all.


That's it! That is all of April completed! With all but one poem posted here. ^^ Awesome.