Writing Forums

Writing Forums is a privately-owned, community managed writing environment. We provide an unlimited opportunity for writers and poets of all abilities, to share their work and communicate with other writers and creative artists. We offer an experience that is safe, welcoming and friendly, regardless of your level of participation, knowledge or skill. There are several opportunities for writers to exchange tips, engage in discussions about techniques, and grow in your craft. You can also participate in forum competitions that are exciting and helpful in building your skill level. There's so much more for you to explore!


  1. NashNash

    First Taste of Love

    Her name was Ava Adams. She was a slender and wide blue eyed beauty of 19 years old who had never been in love. Long jet black hair framed her alert face, always watching and absorbing all of the life around her. Ava had a manic desire for the heart of another. It consumed her waking thoughts...
  2. J

    Beyond Repair (Short) (Graphic)

    “Just come with us, Ry. You need to get out of the house. It’s been a week now.” Riley’s best friend urged her further. “You deserve it.” Riley stared blankly into the wall, almost as if she were looking through it. “I don’t want to. I hate the beach.” “You’ve said that about the mall, and...
  3. A

    Shadows in the Light (Goodbye Grandma)

    My grandmother passed away this week, 1917-2011 (23/03) ` I walk from room to room trying to catch a glimpse of you, and all that I could see, are muted shadows playing tag. Sunlight catches visions of days now stored in memory and with your recent passing, you climbed upon...
  4. LydiaAmaranth

    First Post: "Comprehending"

    I wrote this poem a couple of years ago for a poetry class and figured it would be a good starter poem for me to post here. It isn't too long or abstract. A nice, quick read that is still powerful. Comprehending I still forget sometimes. I reach for the phone, wanting to tell you...
  5. Pine Tree Lucidity

    Pine Tree Lucidity

    Dad says his favorite dream place is beneath his old pine tree. While leaning back against the bark, he hears wind symphonies. I watch him from the window- his eyes closed, his face serene. His life-worn shoulders rounded, rough hands resting near his knees. There's a secret in his stillness...