In between sunset
and the petal of a rose
the bold color glows
turning leaves in light
from an autumn filtered sun
changes every one
the bright of sun light
or of ringo's submarine
free, it can be seen
with a look around
you will see that this means life
just look around twice
the hue of shivers
but also the hottest flame
the color that drains
but darkness like night
with little color or light
will fill you with fright
but brighter it gets
and this color will be best
for all your royals' dress.
you always see the worst
in a good situation
you spew hate and vexations
with each exhalation
and you know that you're worse than
your faux enemies, whose eyes you see
in every window and tv
screen your calls and hide
from the world, in one of your
own your flaws and forgive them
their's a better way to carry on
day to day than hating on
something must change
and it's people like
people like you
need to change
need to learn
need to learn to
In my younger and more
my father gave me some advice
that I've been turning over
in my mind
"When ever you feel like criticizing
he told me,
that all the people in this world
that you've had."
I'm stubbornly resisting
with my eyes intently misting
voice baritone and vibrato laced
a purposeful scowl on my face
you're splitting my head apart, though
I don't know if it's started to show
you're cracking my stony cold frown
until what you're looking for's found
Finally my face can't relent
and my scowl is slowly bent
as you speak, and I hear
and we pull each other near
a grin splits my head ear to ear.
People say "teenage angst" all the time... Well, I'm here to tell you, that I am feeling down-right ANGSTY today. (Is that a word? It is now.)
What is the world coming to when you can count the people who you can depend on, using only your damn thumbs?
I understand that there are those special people who you can depend on. I have a few. Mom, Dad, my brothers. Lately, it seems like everyone is out for no one but themselves.
I understand that sometimes you can't find anyone to sympathize with your problems, because sometimes the people you depend on need you more than you need them. I'm fine with that. I'm always there to lend a helping hand to the people who need me. Whether they fall into that very small category of people I can always depend on, or even if they just fall into the wider circle of people who I like to spend time with.
Lately, it seems that I have 3 friends, and 2 brothers and 1 parent, and a ball of passive-aggressive bull-sh** for roommates. Now, in reality, I have more friends than that. More brothers than that. And more parents than that. But you wouldn't know it based on my life. Read more »
I knew a girl once,
who beauty killed.
She knew more about
looking, than feeling.
She'd been fat,
she'd been beautiful,
she'd been wanted,
she'd been scorned.
She bloomed like a flower,
and when the vase dried up,
A tenth grader who already felt
past her prime.
A tenth grader who was made to feel
Sucking on a malboro red,
hair a mess.
I remember the yearbook pictures,
reading like an age progression
for a girl who wandered off years ago.
She was called fat,
she was called beautiful,
she was wanted,
she was scorned.
She was beautiful.
If she could only see,
that she still is.
She still would be.
Dug up a couple old notebooks with some writing in them. I'll be posting some of them. Let me know what you think.
I think it was the water
spinning towards the drain
I couldn't keep my head straight.
It could have been the walls
and the curtain closing in
I felt like I might lose it
Maybe the way the water
Drowns out all other noise
Exept your thoughts
It could have been the steam rising
Clouding up my eyes
I couldn't see which way was up.
The first thing we noticed when we walked in was that it looked... old. Maybe old isn't the right word. Out-dated isn't right, either, because it was almost certainly done on purpose. It was antique. Antiquated. The carpet was thick, and the chairs had claw feet. Upholstered furniture with the type of golden-threaded patterns you would expect in Buckinham Palace. The artwork and the wall-paper didn't help much either. That deep crimson laced with flashing gold. Old money. This place had been around. Kept up, too though. It was clean, well-lighted. Outside the window you could hear the indefatiguable sounds of the river rushing relentlessly to it's massive drop. Niagra. All in all, it was beautiful. And we had finally made it.
The road trip began in Burlington, Vermont. By lunch time I had picked up my travelling companion in Massachusetts, and continued on to Pittsburg. Nightfall would see us cruising into Columbus, Ohio. Onward from our short stop in Ohio, we reached Chicago. Beautiful stay. Beautiful city. Two days later we had cruised back through Cleveland, the mistake by the lake, and were working our way up the lakes towards Canada, and our final stop on our semi-cross country trek.
The inn was well-known enough, by the standards of the town. Not cheap, but also not the most posh place around. There were spider webs in alarming numbers all down the wrought iron front fence, that separated the inn and it's slightly over-grown landscaping from the promenade of pedestrian tourists. Read more »
*Verb Tense Scramble*
I will have been running from something for ages now, or ran to something new.
I am talked about someone, maybe, or places I am never went to.
But even then the ran is not over, it is seeming to have just beginning.
The obstacles loomed in my future will be forcing me back again in
motion. Stopped is not an option, but moved seems hard to do,
when you will have seeing your problems too much, thought too hard make you blue.
Discouragement should passing now, and a new thought is being thinking in my mind.
When things seem worth ran away from, maybe it was time for me to unwind... ing.
as performed by doug.demaio
It's the lub-dub, lub-dub, flutter and murmur,
it's the tick-tock, tick-tock, finger-tapping stutter,
it's a clenched jaw, tooth grinder, lub-dub, tick-tock,
belly-flutter, heartbeat, fingernail nibble
knuckle-cracking, lip-biting, luba-dub-dub and
it's the toe-tapping, finger snapping,
lub-dub, tick tock
knuckle cracking, molars clacking
through the hair the nails' running
waiting on a break, and
inhale, exhale, belly-flutter, throat mutter,
nail picking, hair flipping, rhythm of my nerves
seat-shifting, neck cracking, knuckles, and a tick-tock
Draining myself to create
things I have never seen
letting my soul move my hands
so I can read what I didn't know
Things I have never seen
Thoughts I have never let show
so i can read what I didn't know
and give to those who need
thoughts I have hever let show
enter my mind through my art
and give to thost who need
art by necessity
enter my mind through my art
art by necessity
honest people who care
for creation in creation's name
honest people who care
letting my soul move my hands
for creation in creation's name
draining myself to create.
I am from
My grandmother the nurse
and my grandfather the tree surgeon
Whom I never met
I am from long runs on cool evenings
with my mother
and late nights plowing snow
with my dad
I was born through the snow
on a January evening
somehow snow always felt like home
"Hurry up Audrey, there's snow
I need to plow!"
I am from tongue in cheeck.
I am from tough love and
I am from strong personalities
and even stronger wills
I am from my brothers
smart, funny, and bold
I am from trying too hard
and coming up too short
I am from standing up
one more time
than I've fallen down.
I am from passsion,
and a life defined by people.
I still say my alarm clock "ticks"
and my beeping cell-phone "rings"
I'll say to "roll" your window down
and other ancient things
You'll tell me to "hang up" my phone
but there's no cradle on the wall.
Should I dial "Oh" for Operator
and "Klondike 5" to call?
I should say "album" or "mp3"
but I'll say "record" when it plays
tell me I'm behind the times
I like it best that way.
He slipped soundlessly from the plush hotel room, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him. It was basement-after-dark quiet, despite being four floors up-- silent, but for the soft creaks and patters of unknown feet on unfamiliar floors. When he reached the end of the hallway he realized how unsettled the lack of sound had made him. He pondered momentarily before turning on his heel and dashing back to the heavy hotel room door.
"Ah," he whispered, firmly closing the door before him. "Better."
We did a quick write to get our minds grinding before starting with a long meeting. The prompt was 'I Like...'
I like emails that arrive on time
and having my lunch on my bosses dime
I like teachers who teach and can refrain,
hold back, contain, rather than complain...
I like warm showers and power
that stays on in my house
and a workplace not covered
in poop from a mouse
I like to go barefoot and I like to not worry
placing my feet like I'm in no hurry
I like when the sidewalk's not littered with butts,
or needles, or bud ice, or crap from your mutts
It seems roses have bloomed
where violets once grew
and nothing in life
is not scary, when new
but turning fresh soil
and planting new seeds
is the only way I know
to outgrow the weeds.
He closed the front door quickly and as quietly as possible, but the screen door slammed behind him as his body forfeited its position between the door and the jamb. He made a conscious effort not to lift his fingers to the bump rising from beside his left eye. "There's gotta be a goddamn mark..." Mike thought to himself, vexed. Facial bruising tends to attract the exact type of attention he wanted to avoid.
His head pounded with every jogging stride he took. He added that fact to the list of reasons why stealing his dad's car was a good idea today.
He'd taken hold of the spare key quite a while ago. He'd seen his father knock the key off of it's regular spot on the shelf by the door. Mike pretended to not notice, but when his dad neglected to restore the key to its rightful place, he decided to pocket it. It was easy enough to convince him that he knocked it off the shelf and it must be under the furniture somewhere now. Luckily, Mike's dad wasn't the proactive type. He'd look for the key if he ever needed it.
His dad was in the house now, but momentarily distracted by the grotesque neighbor-lady who had been coming around lately. The fact that Mike had rolled his teenaged eyes and pulled away from her attempt to, apparently, pinch his cheeks like a 1980's movie-aunt, was what earned him this latest cuffing from his father. Same thing Pappy did to dad when he'd been impudent enough to roll his eyes at his father or mother. At least Pappy had enough good in him to keep Grams around though. Read more »
I was wondering if maybe you could
Do you? Can you?
I see your eyes
Like staring into an unlit window
There's something inside, I know
There must be
But what is it?
Can you see me?
I think I can see you
I don't think they can.
They see someone else when they look at you
And I know how that feels.
I just ask for the chance to
and be seen.
reid: "When you were in middle and elementary school did you get an award for getting the most Valentines? The boy and the girl with the most Valentines always got a special award from the teacher."
katebassoon - re-enters room with a dozen roses: "I told you so..."
reid: "Well I guess you win the award for most valentines!"
doug.demaio: "Hey, I don't know about that. When I got here there were donuts on my desk. And cookies!"
gg: "Yeah, the donuts were from me. They're stale. But I knew you'd be the only one to eat them."
doug.demaio: "It's true....."
gg: "Hey, can I borrow one of your roses to give to my wife?"
(I really only paraphrased this a very little bit....)
from low down baritone and bass right up through alto
I'd be showing off my vocal chops
in key, maybe with some viiiibrattoooo
the major chords, vibrant and bright
and our minors dark but full
My words now just seem flat and plain
and just so awfully dull
They need air and they need life
like a Tenor's chest they need to swell
If I could hold a note, if I could carry a tune
could I have your ear a moment maybe?
Maybe if I learn to sing,
I'll find a song that saves me.
ostracized, and atomized
super-sized with yellow eyes
cash and prize, all good guys
lil-white-lies and a word to the wise
look at these eyes, the only disguise
and before you cauterize, euthanize,
lethalize.... open up and realize.
Is anyone planning on seeing the new movie version of one of my all-time favorite books, The Hobbit?
Let us know what you think! Why are you going? Why aren't you? What did you think of it? Did you read the book? Better? Worse?
Did you start to think of your own story because of it?
Let us know!
Keyword: The Hobbit
The next generation of great writers has spoken. On October 27, 2011, a talented group of writers from your writing community were given the opportunity to read some of their best work, on stage, in front of a packed auditorium at Vermont College of Fine Arts. And they were fantastic!
YWP is putting forth an ongoing effort to put stars of the written word on stage, so that they may become stars of the spoken word as well. This was our second such event, and we are more than proud of how well it went, and of our talented contributors.
Thanks to all who participated and made the event a success. If you couldn't be there, or you want to hear the readings again, listen to the recordings here, as well as throughout the week on YWP Radio.
There was no sneaky way into this house, being as it was only a small cabin of a home. He let himself in through the front door, letting it close very quitely behind him. It was dark, but for festive electric candles glowing in the two front windows. There was soft music playing, but it could have been coming from outside. He hadn't noticed until he descended into the silence of the sleepy house. Immediately after hearing the music he turned his head to the left, and realized something else. The two bedroom doors were open; he was in the house alone. No one was there for him to worry about waking. It seemed strange at this time of night, but then again, he wasn't entirely sure of the time. With so little moon in the sky, the darkness fell quicker than usual. He mused over this for a second, deciding he must be earlier than he'd planned. Must have made good time getting there.
He crept silently around the house, out of respect for the silence that had been there before him. (It seemed like the right thing to do.) No pets, no living things that he could see. Furniture, even appliances and decorations, although sparse. Pictures, photos, artwork. A family. Kids. Not much, but he could tell that it was a loving home. Then he finally found what he had been looking for, tucked neatly into the far corner of the living room. Very simple but clean and respectable; he could tell they took pride in it. They'd been here not too long ago. He could still smell something that had been cooked with a good amount of garlic. Read more »
I think that this is the surest sign of the destruction of humanity as we know it, yet. Think about it. What survives nuclear holocaust? Twinkies. What is the one thing America is most famous for? Being fat. What type of delicious snack food treat did Tallahassee want in Zombieland? TWINKIES! There are too many coincidences here. I'm thinking it's a conspirarcy to weaken the bodies and souls of the common man before the pending apocolypse. Those with twinkies will be the only ones to survive.
As my mom called her on the phone I saw her tears. They were dripped down, slowly, then faster and faster. My hands started squirming, my heart was racing and my palms were sweating. She was GONE. As I locked the door of my bedroom, I thought of all the things we hadn't done yet. My body slid down the wall, and there was this tear, dripping down my cheek, and in a few seconds, tears started gushing out of my eyelids like a small waterfall. In that moment I told myself that, she was officially gone and I couldn’t do anything about it!
Finally, the tears stopped gushing, slowly like when a rainstorm gradually starts to stop. I dried my face and covered my eyes with my sweating palms, and pretended there were no doubts in life, and I was locked out of the universe in my own world. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and counted “one, two three” little by little in my mind. When I opened my eyes I imagined that everything would be fine and back to normal. But, I was still living in a nightmare because my grandma was GONE!
Sustainability Academy at Lawrence Barnes
I'm taking off at brake-stepped speed
Feeling out of pace
Pouring my art out for all to read
vying to save grace
If my jots seem fumbled, this is why;
I'm inane and I'm sin-shamed
We wrote a check that my heart bounced,
So strap me with the blame.
I saw you with another girl.
You were practically holding hands.
I can’t believe your lies anymore
I hated what I became.
You saw me with another girl,
That much I can understand.
But lies aren’t what I’m here for
I want to take all your blame.
I get nothing more than silence now
silence………… and my shame
You have always been my everything
My world will never be the same.
I walk across the park towards the small square tables where I often enjoy lunch and a view of the lake. Nothing out of the ordinary. After situating myself and eating a few french fries, I notice that I have company. A squirrel has decided to come check out the delicious smell of french fries, apparently. No big deal, I think. I stomp my foot somewhat close to him in the hopes of sending him bounding off somewhere else so I can enjoy my meal in peace. That is where the problems began. This squirrel had absolutely no fear of me. He knew I wasn't actually going to hurt him. He was so cute, and there were so many Burlington-park-dwellers around I would have certainly been thrown in some ASPCA jail cell had I actually stomped on him. So he stayed right in front of me. Staring at me. I clapped my hands. He moved. Closer. I yell 'Git! Git!" and wave my hands in front of him. He runs to the other side of the table. At this point, I stand up with the intention of taking a few steps towards him and shooing him away for good. I kid you not, he ran around the table like some sort of living cartoon while I literally ran around in circles trying to chase him off. At this point there are at least three people blatantly watching us, including an old man who gave me the advice to "take your shoe off and hit him with that." I took off my shoe and started brandishing it threateningly. Me, a full-grown man, taking up arms against a roughly half pound animal. Still, when I looked into this demon's eyes I saw no fear. Determination, hunger, and mirth, as he challenged me face to face. Read more »