Young Writers Society

Poem One:

Pantoum:Calandiva/Flaming Katy

No desert for you, Calandiva.
You'll live on the sill with a view of the lake,
which will soften your ultra-pink cat-tongue flames.
To soften, I find, is not to snap.

You'll live on the sill with a view of the lake,
watching the ripples while you're rooted down.
To soften, I find, is not to snap.
Flaming Katy, cool your given form.

Watching the ripples while you're rooted down
must be frustrating - I know, dear, I know.
Flaming Katy, cool your given form.
It's too far to go back now this is home.

Must be frustrating - I know, dear, I know,
I'll water you daily to temper your fire.
It's too far to go back now this is home,
but darling, see how you now flower.

Poem Two: Senryu

When Love turns his back
I throw my arms open wide,
and wait for him to start.

Poem Three: Terza Rima

Please

Please believe that I would if I thought myself able,
but the daffodils are already turning brown,
and the stars aren't looking all too stable...

I won't be surprised when they hurtle down
and cause concussion preferable to this
painting of new days with a frown

before they dare to offer bliss.
But in this cat-basket of blankets and books
I can catalogue everything I miss,
and (please) in time, properly take a look.

Poem Four: Shakespearean Sonnet

Sweet-pea

*submitting*

I've never read anything of yours before, but this is fantastic. All of it.

Thank you so much.

Poem Five: Free Verse

Tulip

Taken
from the pot on the left
in the front garden.

Purple
as a new bruise -
a good one

not a pathetic yellow
where-did-I get this
one.

It's
already lost one petal
so I've started

cupping it in my
wax-white hand
(pleasepleaseplease

don't lose another)
The bulb stayed
buried

will it bloom
anew?
I can't hope.

I will not hope.
I carry it off
to its new home

and I return to mine alone.

Poem Six

Cobwebs

The cobwebs are torn by the broom,
wasted effort to dispell gloom.
Their wasted time, threading the loom...
complete destruction, silent doom.
It should have brightened up the room...

I scrubbed the windows all morning.
They cried after dirt - soft mourning.
What now can do the adorning?
Lived in, blanked out, take the warning,
and live in the dust's forewarning.

For everything will soon be lost,
my friend, do not forget the cost
of simple living, don't accost
dear Fate when she has merely crossed
her t's and left tomb stones embossed.

Poem Seven

Time of Day

Morning, mourning, all the same.
I've lost my tongue to this refrain.
Or tastebuds, rather,all too bland
to open mouths or coax a hand
to reach for some new hologram.
Can you tell me what I am?
No? Well, darling, I'll tell you:
Too temporal to start anew.

Morning, mourning, all the same.
I've lost my tongue to this refrain.

Yes? Yes? More of this? This is delicious right here.

Poem Eight Tanaga

When

When the stars are all sleeping,
and each grey cloud weeping,
no rewards fit for reaping,
remember - love is keeping.

Poem Nine

Lanterns

Your embrace ensures I do not splinter
when the fist comes down on my jigsaw form,
when each day is tinged with silver winter,
when I reside in the eye of the storm.
I have torn the skin from around my nails,
my headache (like my cat) always comes back,
and still the light you ignite never fails
when there's no more trail on my railway track.
Your jam-jar lanterns wink through my house,
no black corner now in which to decay,
just light, which my tears fail to douse.
I smile as the shadows all fade away.
The seasons have to change, this much I know,
but love still consoles and lanterns still glow.

Poem Ten


Orchids

Orchid One :

Dead,
petalless
leafless,
one barren branch
with a few brittle twigs,
colour lost,
pot generic.


Orchid Two :

Turned to mulch
in thick
spring rain,
peeled away
from the
spot where it lies
like
the old woman who couldn't
get out of the bath.


Orchid Three:

Not in my room
because it
would steal all my oxygen,
languishing
in the living room,
white and pink like
striped marshmallows.
Fading, smaller
than the other
and less lasting.

These are lovely, particularly Tulip and Lanterns. I will endeavour to give you some actual comments when I'm not so far behind (or alternatively I may give up and take to stalking others' threads instead).

Thanks Kit.

Poem Eleven

Incy Wincy

And down.
One seven-legged spider lying
upside-down
in the corner with the clutter
of notebooks and disks,
old mouse-pads and pens
which build up in the slot
between computer and wall.

I spent
some amount of time
(blank-faced watch and
blank-faced gaze)
sitting,
barely
moving my head
when the
shadows stretched
my pupils out.

I wonder
if he wriggled
his seven little legs
before I found him
dried and dead,
and found

that I was afraid
to touch him.

Poem Twelve

Blue Poppy

Unhybrid you,
just yourself, yourself,
painting my irises -
my eyes are still
green green green
like a witch's,
like spiked leaves
which frame you
and train
rivulets of water
to take the plunge.

Rarity.
You should be sad.
You should be
a saxophonist
from decades ago,
and sway at the slightest
sniff of a breeze.

Unnodding, looking
straight at me with your
speckled yellow face,
open for the day,
more fragrant than
my shriveling skin.
Sky reflector,
bringing
just a slice of it
down to me.