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AMAZING IDEA!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Submitted by Sepheria on Mon, 06/03/2013 - 8:59pm
After a long time of boredom in school I somehow stumbled upon this little beauty, Animoto. Animoto as I found, is a website where you can create advertisements. Upon further inspection I found that for free you can make 30 second comercials (the length of a TV comercial). Of course being myself, I began to talk to myself:
"Wow wouldnt it be cool if everyone on YWP made their own comercial for their writting?"
"Whoooooooa! Dude that would be amazing!"
"It would totally be epically disasterously amazing!"
"Like bowties!"
"Yesssssssssssssss!"
"Let us tell the people of YWP of this idea!"
"Ahead of you,"
"Mind. Blown. Poof."
So, how cool would that be? For us to make videos of our writting to help inspire ourselves, others, and even just possibly help get your work 'Out There' here on YWP?
Of course this is just a pitiful idea.... but I want to know what you guys think about it! I made a quick one as an example, all of the photos I have made myself. Hope you like it and to hear back from you!
Long ago I was that little girl
Submitted by admin2006 on Mon, 06/03/2013 - 2:37pmLong ago I used to have a completely different life.
I had to work every day in the blazing heat, I did not get an education, and I used a bathroom outside of our house.
I was just a little girl, I was that little girl with a dying brother, I was that little girl that was afraid of the dark, I was that little girl whose daddy left her. Read more »
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I Often forget
Submitted by juliar on Mon, 06/03/2013 - 12:52pmI oftten forget to be thankful
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The Night I Dreamt
Submitted by ErinL.3 on Mon, 06/03/2013 - 10:12amOne night I dreamt
I dreamt of children loved and warm hugs.
One night I dreamt
Of clambering heights and weighted lead thrown away. Read more »
Untitled.
Submitted by elijah.cory on Sun, 06/02/2013 - 11:42pm
The sun sets on Montparnasse, bearing
The union of night, closing
The metal cap on measured thought.
We broke bread beneath the nymph-light,
The stench of half-formed verses
Fogged the three-paned window that overlooked
A half-empty street. Below cigarettes illuminated faces,
Hesitant footsteps hurried to evening mass.
How loudly private torments echo.
Don’t you remember Icarus?
Every night. Whatever became of him?
I’ve forgotten.
Rain
Submitted by Kiessl on Sun, 06/02/2013 - 8:18pmThe cool breeze of autumn rushed into my face as I stepped out the door
The leaves made it impossible for me to be quiet as they crunched under my feet
I began walking
With no destination in mind
The Earth was damp with last night's heavy rain
Raindrops hung off the blades of grass as if they were holding on for dear life
The moon shone like a lamp down onto the puddles,
Illuminating the water
The air was crisp
The smell of the ocean was drifting through the air Read more »
An Attempted Love Poem
Submitted by flaming tears on Sat, 06/01/2013 - 3:02pmYour face is nice.
No, no that's wrong.
Um,
can I try again?
Your, um,
your, you know
your...
Okay, just give me one more chance.
Your eyes
are like a lake of the purest water.
I find myself staring into them and feeling
like swimming.
Wait, what did I just say?
Um...
One more chance, please. Read more »
Absence
Submitted by Ophelia on Fri, 05/31/2013 - 7:37pm
The blow itself
felt more like the withdrawal of wellness
than the addition of agony.
And oh, the absence of thought
that followed for weeks,
oh, for weeks afterward.
The realization
that I was expected to fall
that it would be accepted
as the logical consecutive move
by everyone who watched,
everyone who watched me
in pain Read more »
Falling Wings
Submitted by ErinL.3 on Fri, 05/31/2013 - 12:48pmI had to learn to fly all over again.
Had to spread my wings and let myself land.
I had to take each step, one foot at a time.
I learned to breathe so I wouldn’t cry.
She or her Hope
Submitted by Quella on Thu, 05/30/2013 - 5:57pmHer shallow wake washes the bird in the cage.
Drowning the freedom it had when it came.
Her hair line is silver her arms vallied planes.
Her dream, she discovers, is clad in her shame.
But one soon will die with the wane of the moon.
Buried by ghosts holding a child's red balloon.
Her mind is a cavern of comments and sin.
Hidden away where its lit to be dim.
