Young Writers Society

Erm, uhm, ee, ah, er, yeah XP first NaPo. I've only been here for less than a month so this is basically me, racing myself, seeing how long it takes me to fail at this XP here I go! Wish me luck!

Day One.

The piercing cries.
A shrill, small object.
My ears are ringing,
Yet I don't mind.

Band mates groan,
I smile at the music,
And finger the song happily.
Tuning out everyone else.

My music, I love.
My music, I play.
This song from my piccolo
It's here to stay.

Day Two.

I'm confused.
But what's new there?
I feel like tearing out my hair!

I'm annoyed.
But that's just normal.
Nothing's new, never formal.

I'm hung up.
What do I choose?
I feel like singing out the blues.

My friends are conflicting,
I cannot decide.
I wish to run away and hide.

One day I have.
One day for two lasses.
I feel like kicking these people's.... butts.

Day Three.

I try and fail.
I cannot prevail.
You close your heart,
Stubborn from the start.

These words of mine,
They show no sign
Of getting through to you.

My "sorry"s won't get through.
There's nothing I can do.
A stubborn mind,
Cannot unwind.

I hate the way
I cannot say
What you want to hear.

I'm sorry.

Day Four

Red
For fed
up with this place.

Orange
For door hinge
(the only rhyme)

Yellow
For mellow
of which I could use.

Green
For teen
And the stress it entails.

Blue
For you
And all your mistakes.

Pink
For think
Something I really should do.

White
For light
And a way to calm down.

Black
Which I lack
Darkness I do not need.

Day Five

Tired eyes,
Late at night,
Bright screen shining.

Heavy eyes,
Tapping fingers,
Just five more minutes!

Itchy eyes,
Sore neck,
Maybe just five more.

Five turns to ten,
Ten blends into twenty,
Twelve AM comes once more.

Speedy fingers slowing,
Eyes steadily closing,
Screen halfheartedly looked upon.

Maybe I stayed up too late,
And should have rested early.
But please...

Just...
Five... More...
Minutes.......

Day Six

Procrastination;
A dreadful disease
This poem's done in merely three.

Three minutes that seem
To pass too quickly
For my mind to think up lines

Two stanzas done
And I'm not picky
I hope this poem will be a quicky.

One minute left
And surely I'm done
This poem was only a quick one.

Muahahaha >:) two poems. Two different days. Merely minutes apart >:D oi I should really get to sleep -__-"

Day Seven

There you are.
Across the room.
I see your sparkling eyes.

There you are.
You smile brightly.
You never tell me lies.

There you are.
I see you, Dear.
I want you here with me.

There you are.
I hear your voice.
As lovely as can be.

There you are.
But who's that girl?
She's standing there with you.

There you are.
But so far away.
I don't know what to do.

You smile and laugh
And that's all swell
But I want you here with me.

"You're just friends"
I know, I've heard.
But you're hugging and holding hands.

My hands are cold.
My arms are empty.
Please, acknowledge me.

Day Eight.

Where oh where
have my healthy days gone?
Where oh where
could they be?

Sick in school,
A stuffy nose.
I'm getting dizzy
Man, this blows.

Throat all scratchy,
Voice all hoarse,
I'm coughing up a lung,
The cold's running it's course.

"It's only a cold"
My mother says to me
It's nothing deadly
So school, I have to be.

Where, oh where,
Have my healthy days gone?
Where, oh where,
Could they be?

Please,
Come back to me!!
(Please!!)

Day Nine.

"April showers
Bring May flowers"
Or that's how the story is told.

I hate to say
That on this day
The "showers" came fast and cold

Flooded streets
And people to meet
The flowers that are said to come

Buds on trees,
The start of green leaves
A sight that'll beat the heart's drum

"Arigatou"
I thank you so
For this amazingly wonderful sight

Sun through cracks
flowers in packs
A season of a whole new light

Day Ten.

A puff
Of hot air
Against the chill of
Winter's cold surrounding.

The warmth
Of your hands
As you place them
Against your own face.

The rosy cheeks
And the slightly pink ears.
The show of blood
Rushing through your body.

Glistening snow
Blanketing the ground.
All around you,
Winter's cold surrounding.

Day Eleven.

A blank paper
And a blinking line
Waiting for you
To write the words.

This story has been
Inside your head
Nagging until
It has to come out.

But now that the
Initiative was taken
The words have stage fright
And refuse to be known.

Frustration
As you type and
Retype the words.
Never satisfied.

This pain of
A writer that
No one else knows

Writers block.
Man, this blows.

Day Twelve (just for fun)

I hate how I can't finish
Anything I start.
And how I'm always keeping
Others from my heart.

I hate my tangled hair
And my dry and cracking skin.
And I never seem to be the one
Who always tends to win.

I suck at sports and running
And giving it my all.
No matter how hard I concentrate
I always seem to fall.

But no matter how much I fret,
You never seem to care
About my lazy attitude
Or what I came to wear.

You like me none the less
And laugh with me all day.
And now I hope this friendship,
Is always here to stay.