Young Writers Society

WARNING!: My poetry is a bit, um...terrible, at the moment, as I can't write my usual depressing poetry.

TUESDAY APRIL 1ST 2008

The Shadows Of Memory

I remember the lurid yellow table cloths,
the white vase which held a yellow flower,
the sun's embrace, the smile which stemmed
from your initial interest. (it
was not yet dark obsession),
prominent as any centre piece
could ever be.

I remember the elation when
we followed proper steps
after so much squandered time,
and how waking came with smiles,
ushered in by your first hello,

and I remember eventual
claustrophobia,
hiding from the phone,
never answering the door,

And now
there's been not one removal
to restaurants in Italy,
and still I find I miss you,
solely yours, but still so free.

*Cringe* There's a reason why I don't write happy love poetry...Though Kit, I'm not sure that this is what you had in mind...

Haha. Not quite what I had in mind, no. Oh Jas will you not write one perfectly happy poem, just for me? And if not for me, why not write it for him?

This is good. You have some lovely imagery, a good sense of atmosphere and the emotions are clear. I'd suggest changing the title. It fits but I think it could be more creative. Other than that, I don't think you should change anything.

This is actually a great poem. It's got a nice cadence to it for a freeform piece. If you write one of these every day, you could probably publish an anthology or something by the end of April.

One thing that bothered me: capital letters at the beginning of each line, regardless of whether or not it was the beginning of a new sentence. These kind of caps really throw me off, fracturing the poem a little more at each line.

Beautiful.

-Kylan

Thanks a mil dudes. I'll try Kit, but it's just so hard! Today's not the day for it, though.

WEDNESDAY APRIL 2ND 2008

I haven't set one foot
inside the hospital
since you came into the county.
There
isn't proper space, given
my parents,
your wife,
the wires,
and the sense that this
is so, so wrong
all of which surely
crowd the ward.

I'll admit
I haven't given it much thought.
(I don't
dwell on the present if
it can't be changed)
and I guess,
I've always been
so sure of your recovery,

after all, you're far to young to die,
and couldn't leave a wife alone
as a whole family unit.

But tonight
my mother had red
under her eyes
and all of the reassurance
that you were going to be alright
evaporated
like tear-water under
sahara misery,
and she told me that
your heart had stopped.
"It's not looking good".

She told my brother to get all
his work out of the way.
"We could well be at a funeral
in just a few more days",

and still I don't believe it.
I haven't seen you in
many months,
I can't quite pinpoint when,
and you were strong and healthy
when I saw you then, and have

just fallen ill in
a handful
of short recent weeks.
And the sky
is getting brighter,
bringing in official spring,
and there has to be a rebirth and
the end of suffering.

I know the rhyme is irregular...this just spilled out in the past few minutes. All comments/suggestions appreciated.

The one thing that stood out for me was that there was a lot of end-line punctuation in the first stanza. But that's just cosmetic ^_~ I like how this told a story all the way through, and I like how it shifted from a sort-of unknown time/past to the present in "but tonight my mother had red under her eyes". It was a nice shift in concentration. Maybe look to integrate the last stanza with the rest of the poem more? It seems slightly like a sudden suffering. Good luck with tomorrow's poem!

You have some very pretty imagery here but I feel that you have some weak lines which could be cut to make it a little shorter and more dramatic. I'd suggest to remove or change the stanza about the brother. The half rhyme there throws off the slightly morbid, sad feeling and it all seems a little too casual - 'Do your work so we can go to your father's funeral, honey.' Also, the line about the mother being left alone as a whole family unit makes little sense if she has the children...

I like the irregular rhyme in that last stanza actually and I think this flows well. It's nice.

Thanks Leja. I'll take a look at integrating the end better at some point. Thanks Kit,Sorry, it seems I was unclear...the ill subject of the poem isn't the father. I'll look at clarifying this at some stage... and now for today's. Twenty minutes before midnight probably isn't the best time for starting this, but there's not much that can be done about that now.

THURSDAY APRIL 3RD 2008

It seems that we can't walk
more than ten steps
without stopping to embrace.
(Sometimes your hand
will not suffice
to link yourself to me
especially because
this week was exam-weather and
cast Dehydration's curse.)
And I wonder where
my focus went.

Eventually, having
reached the shop today,
paid our prices and returned
to the quicksand of
Infatuation Land,
you could lean against the wall
and take me
in your arms again and I
clamped my arms around your waist
(I hadn't to reach up this way) and,
overly familiar, let
the moment take me down to somewhere
just below my conciousness,
on par with flawless joy,

and you
responded to my absurdities
with ones as mad as mine can be,
which, I'm sure, means more to me
when you said my eyes (green, rimmed
by blue) are...what was that
word you used?

Either way
when I had
to pull away,
I brought a self
unlike my self
when I cursed closeness,
(damned old traps),

and took whatever
strand of you's
been woven into
my mind's frame
to brighten clouds
which just remain
in flawless white
variety.

Here's your love poem, Kit. Now you see why I avoid them, right?

Here's the poem from Friday...wrote it late last night (though before midnight!) so didn't post then. It's only a measly haiku, as I was tired. Besides, there were too many things in my head. I'll try and sieve them out over the next few days.

The shadow of Doubt
Claimed me when puberty hit.
Blind hope isn't here.

*cringe* I'll try to write something better today...back soon.
Jas

SATURDAY APRIL 5TH 2008

Ode To Seamus Heaney


*I'm submitting this somewhere so I've taken it down but I'll put it back up once it gets rejected*

April 3: Okay dear, not your best poem, you're right and maybe I shouldn't meddle in your affairs but I think it has great potential. I love some of your imagery and it has a beautiful flow, the irregular rhyme feels very natural and I'd only really suggest making a change to the first stanza and maybe taking another look at how you've structured some of the others. Here's my suggestion for stanza 1 -

It seems that we can't walk
more than ten steps
without stopping to embrace. [I think this is a good start.]
(Sometimes hand-holding
is not enough
especially because
this week was exam-weather and
cast Dehydration's curse.) [I think this next section could be improved. Maybe something like -
'(Sometimes your hand will not suffice
to link yourself with me;
stronger because
this week was exam-weather and
cast Dehydration's curse.)' By the way, I love the personification and use of the capital for Dehydration.]
[s]And [/s]I wonder where
my focus went.

It's good though. I like it.

April 4: Should be Claimed and not Claimes on the second line, yes? I'm not fond on haikus but it's unusual enough to hold some interest.

April 5: I love this! It flows so beautifully and you chose difficult words to rhyme with and still managed to pull it off. It's brilliant, dear. In fact I have no suggestions. Good work!

Thanks Kit.

SUNDAY APRIL 6TH 2008

I think I'm going to
ram my fingernails
into the back of my hand.

The flames are licking
at my heart and it
was already curled and bruised.

Mop mop mopped
a spill I didn't make
with my Cinderella knees

and repressed sparks in my eyes.

And I'm sitting on a minefield
waiting for the step that kills,
waiting for the fragment-rain
to wash the ground with skin
and we're pressed so tightly in here
that there's not one draft of air.

I think I'd try to breathe if there
was more to breathe than smoke.

On SATURDAY APRIL 5TH 2008,

I adore you, if only because Seamus Heaney is boss. I saw him lecture once, it was amazing. But, beyond that, I really love this poem, everything about it is wonderful, especially the sound.



Ta,
Cal.

I love April 6! The concept is great, but I'm unsure of where exactly the narrator is? But, I can think of a few places that could fit that description.

Good luck tomorrow!

April 6: I like this one. There's a great sense of atmosphere around it and the emotion is very strong. You have some lovely phrases here, especially the repetition of 'Mop mop mopped' and the metaphor of the minefield is amazing. I'd suggest changing that third line to 'through the back of my hand.' That would make it clearer that she's clenching her fists so tight her nails may go through. At first I thought she might be scratching one hand with the other before I realised it didn't make sense. Also, the ending is great, very strong. Just one more suggestion:

I think I'd try to breathe if there
was more to breath than smoke.

It should be breathe in the second line.

Thanks Kit. I've fixed "breath". With the first stanza, I was thinking of digging the nails on the right hand into the back of the left. Thanks Via, thanks Cal.

Here's yesterday's attempt:

*submitting*