Young Writers Society

Bekah: I've decided to go half and half, I'll write some for my screnzy and some in general, just in case you're wondering.

#1 Finger in the Dust

I could close the curtains
and they didn't shrivel at my touch
or fall, dissolve and split
like hair-line fractures of the flesh
(and birthday candles).

I could hear my children
and they didn't lie so still,
their faces marked by rose-bud moss
that grew and settled in the pores
(still beautiful).

I could fold their smiles
to fit in threads of lullaby dreams
that resonated at my touch, my breath.

There was a stain, on the carpet
(by his chair).
I used to wish it gone -
oh how it lingered, falsely strong.
I hoped their hands would always fit my palm
but not like this, reserved in nursery bliss
with only smoke to breathe.

___________________
Meh. Hopefully the script writing will go better.

Bekah approves this message

And shush, you! It's not bad!

Okay so the collection of poems I write for my screnzy won't be titled and yes they are supposed to be badly written. Call it cheating but actually it's quite difficult to write a bad poem and still hide in it the necessary message or uh... not XD But hey, it's all part of the fun.

#2 Screnzy Poem One

You will say he deserved better
well take your time, write a letter
and see if you have got the words to fill a summer's day.

Dare I ask - what was his name?
What did he ever do to have such fame
crammed down his shirt to fill a lifeless cage?

I daren't say I once heard him speak,
he did not move or write; your case is weak
if you would prove his life worth more than mine.

What's all this fuss, he'll not be missed,
not he whose every action I could list
in just an age-old, crooked, scarlet line:

He signed his name before I signed mine.

#3 Don't be sad

It was an angel Mommy,
with a picket fence smile
and just one gap
(like when I was little Mommy).
I could see her heart through it
and it beat like mine only...
faster Mommy,

push me higher like when Daddy
used to swing me round.
Please let's not go,
don't let's leave yet, faster, quicker!
Oh... okay.

Don't be sad, I understand
you couldn't be there Mommy.
You had the lawyer to book,
the plane to see
and no time to pick me up, I know.
But the angel did.

I waited by the road Mommy
and I thought I saw you the other side.
It's okay, I only fell
and the angel helped me up.
Don't be sad Mommy,
I know you was busy and this morning
(when I made too much noise)
I only wanted to say
I love you.

_________________________

I quite like the idea of this one and the persona but I might play with the stanzas later. I've been asking my mum for themes, this one was lost time that you can never have back.

Oh, your last poem is so darling and upsetting. These are amazing, Kitty!

Thank you =) Number four is my favourite so far! [Warning: this one is rated PG13 for language.]

#4 A Gentleman's Plea

Take ma 'ome instead sir,
go on sir, there's nothin' better 'en a
roof above yer 'ead.
Don' believe me, then try without sir,
take a box an' try yer luck on dem streets instead.

I don't mean no 'arm sir,
nor disrespect but leave off en get
your own wife and friends.
This aint yer life teh be livin' sir
and of mine it's the right an' left bookends.

Don' understan'? Well see the drunken preacher
with his adoration and adulation of the skin.
No flocks of followers makes 'im
a drunken sod 'oose down a sin.

Now look: the tardy chimney sweeper,
never cleaner; always got an hour or two teh spare.
Give 'im back 'is bob an' send 'im packin' sir:
leaves an idle git a'sleepin' on de stair.

I've got a lot o' graces, like 'libertine'
but none I like so well as mine with 'er.
Husband rather suits my ego, sir
(and you can tek my daughter if that's fair).

Let me keep ma ailin' wife, she suits me,
always got a thing or two to say
(you'd not like that).
Besides, if you en keep on takin' people,
you'll 'ave no room for gentlemen like me.
Then again, you might be better off, sir
'cos if you tek 'er, I'll 'ave you sir
(just wait an' see).

These are great Kit. Three is my favourite, but I also really like one. My only quibble is in poem four, when you write;

"with his adoration and adulation of the skin."

I think it's too flowery for the speaker.

Other than that, I love these.

#5 Sensing Beasts

Speak or lose your sister to the jackal
(and never breathe a word of this again,
but recall the every chain and shackle
as you live your life in phantom's shame.)

See the ivory cloak of candles,
(finery of cobwebs hiding core)
and think carefully of such handles
before you open varnished doors.

Smell the burning of the wick,
it's the vicar's euau de death,
and it's crumbling like a brick
in the crooked wall you'll cleft;

feel it in your finger tips,
shivering through raised clotted pores:
it is like to the simmering word on your lips
and bonds of sister-hood are its cause.

Hear the silence, droning zone;
if you don't speak those others won't
(they're taken in by flesh cologne)
and none will do what sisters don't.

Act now or forever hold your piece
of who she used to be,
wrap it in cloths, confine to release
the spirit of a parallel tragedy.

#6 Transformations

Too long you've scrutinised and criticised
the contours of your face;
you've scandalised and catalysed
yourself into disgrace.

I didn't fall in love with this impostor
who tucks her silver hair behind deaf ears,
nor did I ever try to win or master
a crone less in love with me than her career.

I didn't know your hand would swell so great
until my ring was tight about fat finger
(did I mention you've put on too much weight)
and my beauty's voice was never thick like vinegar.

It is the roads of age that crease your face
and blockade the bloom of yester-spring
but it was to you whom I gave chase
and if your finger no longer fit, I'll change the ring.

#7 I'm Open

She has a smile that's like
a master key to every door,
slipping through the cracks of lips
to open foolish hearts.
Be gone, be gone, away with legend's farce!

There was a time we were but books to her,
she'd read our minds
like romance on the lawns
but no more, no more the Viper's pleasure
at my door.

We're bitter men with twilight gift
of extra twist and turns that need a personal touch
(yet should she turn that smile on us
we'll click and let her in.)

#8 Mother Knows Best

Sink into depth my dearest one,
this be your cradle now
and it will rock you to slumber
like my arm, the arm that cast you -
out with those peepers, don't make a scene!
A child knows now what is best for it:
time for bed, time to rest and
recline that head, down down into depth,
Mother knows, Mother is strong enough
to put you to sleep.
There is space to grow here,
flood and fill my mind
until all I ever hear is this cry
but Mother understands a child will be
grateful in time.
Be still.


That's all for now. I don't mind 7 but hate the end and 8 is okay. 5 and 6 are my worst so far.

I was on eight this time last year too actually and didn't post any others after that XD But this year I will, promise. Even if they're bad, I will have 30.

#9 Young at Heart

Step on my grave again
and I'll give you one for,
I'm not ready to be buried yet
so don't talk such nonsense
of wills and the law.

I'm a formula one driver,
don't you scoff young one;
my brain moves faster than yours,
while you're stuck on lower levels
I'm dancing on tables, I'm gone!

I say poo to statistics,
what does '94' mean
except that I've been around the block,
got here before you
and I've seen, oh I've seen

so much that it would burn your eyes
to have my life flash before
and you'd be dead, I've not even begun
to tell my tale of adventures
but I can see it's a bore

to one such as yourself.
Off with you child, go run amok
and when you've slowed enough
to catch me up then we'll talk
of the headman's block.

#10 Ware the View

I used to leave my curtain open -
just as you do -
but then I realised people could be
looking in.

I started watching you so long ago
that I know you used to strut
and play at being old with your
canvas face and training bras.
I liked that.

I feel I've come to know you,
the slopes of Mount Everest
aren't better known by any climber
than your curves are by me.

The little dimple on your cheek -
not that cheek -
isn't viewed by any other eyes but
yours and mine, we share this guilty pleasure
of admiration but your portal is the mirror
and mine the window-pane.

#11 Amber Riches

Once or twice perhaps but not as often
as it seemed and he didn't break
the skin or strike too hard.
It was the drink, not him;
his partiality to believe
that gin could pay his bills and pave his way
in amber rubble of the mind.

It might have been three or four
but never more than ten,
not in one night
and he was the penitent sort,
never short of a sorry in the morning
or lacking in an amber prayer:
he thought they helped.

Oh he was a dear heart really,
always spared the time to make promises
of the moon and wrap my hands with
skeins of gold and silver
so I didn't tire in my work,
not with his miner's strength.

It was the drink that parted out our ways
like farmers marking crops up for the market
and I only ask that it be not him
who is condemned in your courts of law,
let it be as if in life that I
may not speak against him so that my body say
no, it were not my husband
but the drink.

#12 Drinking Lemonade

There is a poison in my glass
that has neither scent nor taste
but sometimes they see it reflected
in the onyx of my pupil.

It is the poison of deceit and spreads
like a malaria of the tongue
until all within range are affected
and none can reep the spoils:

as it is with the plague,
when all are affected,
none remain to collect the bodies
and those few who do survive soon catch
the deceit from other's swollen mouths.

#13 Persephone's Creek

She'd have lived but for the shoes,
I'll not forget the irony in that.

When we were young, she had more blisters
on her feet than freckles on her nose
and would sooth her terraced toes
by mine, in Persephone's Creek,
half caught between the underworld and here
(we'd rest in melancholic peace).

She would prophecy of dresses,
wish for a fedora
(which I always thought was cheese)
but most of all it was the shoes.
"When I get married," she'd say,
"My feet will never touch the Earth again"
by which I thought she meant to fly
(so phantom were her dreams)
but it was the shoes she meant.

The first pair arrived during my eighth summer -
an admirer's gift.
She didn't put them on but stared
or held them in her lap like ugly dolls
and wouldn't let me touch them.

Days passed and when we bathed our toes,
she'd huff and sigh and look to the sky
as if to ask for permission.
I did not realise then that it was strength
she sought from the Gods
and in those darker days when she'd not meet my eyes,
she was looking down to Hades on his throne.

Once she'd tried them on, she was true to her word:
those feet never touched the ground again,
not while she lived.
She danced over mud and would kick me in the bath
but I could not resent her for they made her smile
and she would steal fruit for me.
She said they made her faster than the wind
and in a way I believed her,
even when I saw she bought the fruit with
pomegranite seeds; it was part of the magic.

She wore those shoes even when the gangrine
peeped its head above their rim
and changed them only for another pair,
on her wedding day.
We all knew then what deal she'd made
and all for a pair of shoes.

#14 Fractured Faces

It was a gift, from my mother, a
'get well soon, hope you're feeling better
now you're home' without the verbal
substance.

It has a crack in the side
and strains to bend the light around it,
perhaps if the room weren't so dark
it would succeed.
Were I only an ornament too.

There's a dent in the face, pattern features
taken by the goblin men
to build their piecemal houses,
leaving useless trinkets that won't even open
without shedding stitches
but the mirror came off worse
than me.

#15 Outcast

I'd ask you to come but there isn't room,
Sarah takes up two seats she's so large
and there'd not be enough cake to go around
though Annie might share with you.
She's soft like that,
can't get it into her head
that you don't belong with us.

There'd be enough space to sleep
but only on the floor
which Mildred doesn't mind but she's hard like that,
can put up with nails in the boards
and we know you'd not like it
though Annie might give you her bed,
if you asked.

I'd invite you to the party
only you wouldn't say yes
and you'd laugh and ask,
"But Annie, who'd be there?"
and even Annie would be too ashamed to say
(Sarah and Mildred, little Cathy too)
so I'll celebrate with my dolls instead.


Fifteen to go and three days left XD Ah well, better than last year at least.

I love #14 Fractured Faces and #15 Outcast.

Gorgeous, yummy stuff.



Ta,
Cal.

#5 Sensing Beasts

I love the rythm and structure. I think that;
"(finery of cobwebs hiding core)" is a bit forced. I love;

"See the ivory cloak of candles,".
and
"before you open varnished doors."

I think
"Smell the burning of the wick, "
is a touch bland, and that you could say it with more immediacy. "Euau" is a typo!


"feel it in your finger tips, "

is a bit cliche.
I love;
"shivering through raised clotted pores: "
it is like to the simmering word on your lips

and

"(they're taken in by flesh cologne)
and none will do what sisters don't. "

and

"Act now or forever hold your piece
of who she used to be, "

is very clever.

I'd add an "it" before "to release". The last line is powerful.

#6 Transformations

I love the first stanza, but I think you lose some of the effect by changing the rhythm in the next stanza, although what you're saying is effective. I think "so great" is forced. I like the image of the ring, but "thick like vinegar" is a bit forced. I love;
"but it was to you whom I gave chase
and if your finger no longer fit, I'll change the ring. "

but I think the two lines before it are out of synch with the tone with the rest of the poem.

#7 I'm Open

I like the start. I think the last line of that stanza is out of synch with the tone. I love;

"she'd read our minds
like romance on the lawns "

but again, I think the following lines are too much.

I like the last stanza.

#8 Mother Knows Best

I love this one.

#9 Young at Heart

This one is great. The narrative voice is very strong.

#10 Ware the View

The beginning is very effective. I love;
"and play at being old with your
canvas face and training bras.
I liked that."

I'm not sure about the second stanza...I think it's a little watery. I love the last stanza.

#11 Amber Riches

This is brilliant. I think it's one of my favourites you've ever written.

#12 Drinking Lemonade

The first stanza is brilliant. I think;

"It is the poison of deceit and spreads "
and

"until all within range are affected
and none can reep the spoils:" ("reep" should be "reap".)

are a little weak. It ended quite suddenly. I think you could add more imagery to this.

#13 Persephone's Creek

The opening is brilliant. I love;


"When we were young, she had more blisters
on her feet than freckles on her nose "


and
"(we'd rest in melancholic peace). "

and

"She didn't put them on but stared
or held them in her lap like ugly dolls
and wouldn't let me touch them. "

I'd write "gods" with a small g.


"pomegranite" and "gangrine" are typos.

I love the last two lines.

#14 Fractured Faces

I like this too, especially the last line.

#15 Outcast

I really like this one, especially the depiction of the characters, but I think the last line could be more powerful.

A pleasure, as always.

Jas

*Snugs Cal and Jas* I think I'm reasonably happy, there's one and a half more that I didn't get round to posting up and I like about five of them =)

I'll do better next year and then the year after that and eventually I'll make the thirty in a month XD