Young Writers Society

So, I forgot there was a section of the site for this kind of thing! I wrote a poem within the last few minutes of April 1, since I just then remembered what day it was.

April 1

"Eyes and Tongue"

In your eyes I saw the size
of the heart you kept on your tongue,
and I heard the way your words
dribbled out like piles of sticky notes.
Each one had its own excuse writ;
it’s own reason why we should not be.

In those eyes I thought I saw
honesty and beauty
and the soul of a real man
with real hands he could wrap
tight round my wasted waist,
this space of unused femininity.

But what was in your eyes,
were only the lies
of what I thought we should be.

And your tongue thought much differently.

--

I really hope I keep it up this month. I miss poetry so much.

A good entrance, suz. I liked the subtle, spontaneous rhymes. And I prefer your second stanza. I didn't much care for "dribble out like piles of sticky notes"...this does nothing for me. It's a strange, and unanchored simile.

Good luck.

-Kylan

Thank Kylan. That line did nothing for me, too, but it's NaPo. I write the bad lines to write the good lines, ha.

Hey Clau Good to read you, I've missed your poetry. I'll have to go against you and Kylan, I thought "dribbled out like piles of sticky notes." was a great line. I felt "writ" jarred a bit.

I think that;
"In those eyes I thought I saw
honesty and beauty
and the soul of a real man
with real hands he could wrap"
is a little flimsy, but I love "tight round my wasted waist,
this space of unused femininity".

I think ;
"But what was in your eyes,
were only the lies
of what I thought we should be."
could be stronger, could use more imagery.

The last line is great.

Good luck, I look forward to reading more of you.

Jas

[So I'm back on this horse, having written four poems in less than an hour, mainly because I've been promised m&ms if I finish. Mind you, these poems are bad, and really, don't review them if you feel too grossed out. Please. Spare me.]

April 2

What is beauty made of?
Knives and needles, starvation, mutilation;
This I feel it's not.
Is it under your skin, the fat within,
or the wrinkles as they rot?
Can you find beauty in your face
where make up was so delicately placed?
Beaty? I think it's not.

[Bad, right? I told you!]

April 3

Your picture flickers fast
on my eyelids, drowsed with sleep.
Your lips push mine with effort
only managed by this dream.
How is it your words can feel so true,
but I wake to find only what I've lost:
your hand around my waste,
and whispers in my ear.
I am quite, I am touchless;
I've nothing to hold dear.

[So this next one could use some serious expanding, but I'm not up for it tonight]

April 4

I'd like to think myself
the New feminist with power, boobs, and self-respect.
But in the mirror I see only lil' ol' me -
and it's not much to look at.

April 5

"I wash my hands of this,"
It's what I think when you leave
to take your hour (longer) walks.
It's what I wish when I see
your sanity slip through the cracks
of our once beloved friendship.
What could I do for one so sick,
one so lost as you?
I wash my hands - I wish I could -
I wash my hands of you.

Your body dies while you still breathe,
and your hair falls out faster.
I see you sicker every day,
standing in the mirror like it'll answer
positively (in your twisted eyes) for once.
But what can I do for your frail body
while you whither it away?
I'd love to wash my hands of you,
"I've done all that I can."
Take your own step of self ownership,
because I can't do this for you.


--

So yeah. That's that.

In your eyes I saw the size
of the heart you kept on your tongue,

I really really love these lines. This poem overall is my favorite, I love the topic, but this opening line is really just amazing.

The last line sums it all up very well too. I like the flow of it all.

April 6

"Dead & Sexy"

Bright, flighty wings with rainbow diamond studs
spread out on the push-pin board;
so alive with earthly hues,
but dead like the autumn leaves.

I want to be this butterfly.
So much beauty:
not a dust of color smeared
by the disgusting fingers of Life.
It lived and lived – and without any meaning.
“Hit me with your big mack truck,”
I bet it said. “I don’t care when or how I die.
I look so damn good.”

If only I was this butterfly.
I’d be dead sexy.

I think April 6 picks up at these lines:

It lived and lived – and without any meaning.
“Hit me with your big mack truck,”
I bet it said. “I don’t care when or how I die.
I look so damn good.”

If only I was this butterfly.
I’d be dead sexy.

and ends very solidly. The lines before that I feel don't match up to the strength of these lines.

April 6:

but dead like the autumn leaves.

Really fitting comparison. I like it.

by the disgusting fingers of Life.

I think you can come up with an adjective much more compelling and vivid than "disgusting."

I agree with Clo, the mack truck part is very powerful and the opening line about "rainbow diamond studs" is also concrete. If I had to point out a part that doesn't match up with the strength and assertiveness, I might say the line about "so alive with earthly hues".

But I do indeed like it overall.

April 6;

I felt that "rainbow diamond studs" was too much but I love the imagery in the rest of stanza one.

I don't think you need "I want to be this butterfly." I really love;
"not a dust of color smeared
by the disgusting fingers of Life.
It lived and lived – and without any meaning.
“Hit me with your big mack truck,”
I bet it said. “I don’t care when or how I die.
I look so damn good.”"

I think the ending is ok, but I expected something stronger after the above lines.