Young Writers Society

In the darkest time of twenty-four hours,
His name is carved in a cement wall.
Sweaty palms with visible calluses
Grasp a pocketknife and start to chisel

Wrapping his arms around your narrow waist,
Midnight sways you side to side.
Dangling from invisible strings,
Stars turn slowly in a cobalt sky.
And not once in these Carolina nights
You remember the night they
Forgot to shine

Corduroy summers and sunscreen winters
Are all left behind in Mrs. Ford’s homeroom class
And sixty-two sophomores jammed in one back yard
For the sixteenth birthday of
The governor’s son
I’ll remember black Kawasaki breakdowns
And Hemi-powered Dodge Rams
When they spell your name in the back of
My high school senior yearbook

Really powerful. Wasn't sure I understood what it was about until I read the last few lines, but It still managed to hold my attention.

Thanks so much Rei. It's one of my personal favorites I think....
Oh, and I love "Morgaine Le Fey" under your username. :) I guess because it's so closed to my name.

Yoour welcome, and thanks. I find your custome rank very amusing.

Wow, I really liked that. I wish I had some crit to help you, but I don't. That was just beautiful. Awesome!

I'm actually thinking about writing a sequel. However, I have a question for everybody...which is better...Corduroy Springs or Corduroy Summers? Corduroy Springs kind of sounds like a lake or a subdivision. What does everyone else think? I really need your opinion on this.

Too vague for me to understand it. This is a poem for you, and as such, only you can give yourself reasonable critiques. It didn't move me like it seemed to want to; although, not much does anymore.

Corduroy Summers IMO...and great job Chev.

Thanks Hunter and Brad. I know how you feel Brad. and yeah, it was a little vague.
And as you can probably see, Hunter, I changed it to Summers. =)

It sounds pretty and nice, but I have no idea what is about really. So this makes it a really personal poem - probably lovely to you. I'll just be content with the nice wording and style.

I'm not trying to make it personal...because like, it doesn't even relate to me. How is it personal?

It went completely over my head, like pretty much everything these days. But still, a lovely poem.

It's personal because I have no idea what it means but you do.

Hey Chev, how's it going? See you're starting toget over your writers block, but not quite yet. This is nice, like everyone's said, but there's no real point. All I get is this sense that maybe someone's gone, maybe not, who knows? And really (this is the attitude I'm getting from the pome) who cares? Put some emotion in there! Give it power! THis is supposed to be DRAMATIC!