Deviations submitted to the
Graffiti Dreams in Black and White The strokes are dreamt permanent,Graffiti Dreams in Black and White by Carmalain7
the only lasting demarcations of claiming existence,
and the collective artists who painted them majored in Biology,
or Accounting, or English and Professional Writing, or dropped out
as so many do when they wake up.
The poet paints them into existence with his words:
“ideas are illusions, and all words are untrue.”
And we nod our heads and sip our coffees, indeed,
put a price to labors and words and even to thoughts
because we no longer want freedom if it costs us the freedom
of saving face and keeping pace with the ebb and flow
Sun and MoonThey come together like fireflies in the dark;Sun and Moon by Medoriko
laying on their earth underneath
the willowy branches that protect them.
The weeping moon is bright in the sky some nights,
her pearly eye open and ever watchful. The forest
speaks in hushed tones but neither knows the wiser.
Sometimes, they yell and roll into each other;
A heap on the hard ground. They kick and scream like
newborns fighting for their mothers attention. Frustrated
because nobody seems to listen; Nobody seems to hear.
Sometimes they lay still and soak up the atmosphere.
They warm with it and everything else seems to fade.
They rest easy. Watch quietly, while they
play their games of wooing and seduction;
Lowered eyelids and sweaty palms.
Sometimes they come to bare their skin
underneath the stars; All luminescent limbs.
Tangled and awash in the moonlight, they
fumble into a perfect harmony.
They frolic and fold between themselves,
Sporadic and lost. Chasing the rapture, they
The Tigress of ForliCaterina watched the retreating backs of the Orsi brothers. She pulled at the ropes that bound her, despite that her wrists were already raw. She hadn’t been upset when the condottieri assassinated her useless husband, but now that Riario was gone, the witless brutes had launched an assault on Forli and taken her hostage.The Tigress of Forli by C-A-Harland
A small whimper came from her side.
‘Don’t snivel, Bianca,’ she ordered. Her daughter bit down on her lip. ‘We’ll get out of this.’
She peered through the gap in their prison tent, the fortress of Ravaldino loomed above them. If only she could get inside, she could rally Forli’s troops to rid the Romagna of this vermin. But the castellan, Tommaso Feo, has sealed the fortress.
‘Orsi,’ Caterina shouted. After a moment the tent flap pulled back to reveal Fererico Orsi. He tugged at his orange doublet, rearranging the heavy velvet.
‘What, Sforza?’ Federico
The ElysianThe Elysian by aelogan
or she will study
This year, the walls here
will ring with the clink of glasses and tap
of plates passed among friends, family, and lovers.
Other times, absorb the shuffle and rustle
of quiet privacy, a solitude to where she can escape and recover
This year, the air here
will hold a healing silence that bends easily
into and out of echoes of music, roars of laughter, and sighs of relief;
while over and around the flicker of good news,
unwrapping of new shoes, and the comings-true of dreams.
This year, the door here
will barricade against the disingenuous
thresh of the city, repel the selfish and insincere,
only to allow crossing by those with capacity to love, respect,
inspire, assist, uplift, rescue, or protect her.
This year, everything here
will be clean, everything soft save for the towels which
will be coarse, of course. Every function flawless,
every debt paid, every sponge holstered,
and every piece of laundry folded for her.
This year, th
For you my LoveIf I had the emotions to show you how I feel,For you my Love by MyLoveForYouEternity
they would be words that can't be spoken of.
If I had my life to spend with you,
I would cherish it as well as my love for you.
If I had a vision to show you how I feel,
it would be a beautiful scene for you and I to share.
If I had a heart so pure for you,
It would be my only love I could ever give to you.
For you I love and no one else,
I'll be beside you until my life ends.
For you I am myself throughout this time,
I'll be the one for you always.
If I showed you the memories deep inside me,
It would be the best experience of our lives.
If I showed you the love that I never told you about,
I promise you it wouldn't be a mistake.
I love you, the love of my life.
You are the one that will always be mine.
You are my life, my love, my forever.
And my love, I promise this would be the best thing to happen to us.
An Absurd Game Of Hide And Seek.An Absurd Game Of Hide And Seek. by smileykaya
A story by SmileyKaya.
This is a short story I'm entering into the Great Lit Crit event, (which anyone can join by the way, ahem). I managed to make it 1,999 word, just below the limit (well done me XD ) Anyway, I hope you enjoy it).
Imagine an absurd place where five absurd friends were playing an absurd game. The savage and eerie Darkling forest (home to a myriad of shape-shifting monsters called ‘hidden ones’) was the place, the friends were a teenage girl, a 9-year old cyborg, a cervichaun and two dragons, and the game was hide and seek.
Currently, some ground rules were being laid.
“Alright then,” the teenage girl announced grandly, “so the first rule is we won’t wander too far from this spot. It’s a big
if you stumble, make it part of the dance|.if you stumble, make it part of the dance by Waffles-Of-Gondolyn
I can't understand a single word you say;
your heart speaks a language
my soul won't dine with.
Your features are cold and pale and beautiful,
unfortunately, I am not.
All I ever wanted was to lean my
head onto your strong shoulder,
follow the lines where your wrist
meets your hand like the stars
desperately need to meet the moon.
We'd swim in a scarlet sea under
flowers curling around my pointed ears
and through my shimmering hair.
You closed your heart to mine,
kept it locked tight in the safehouse
that was your soul.
I am trapped behind melancholy
depths-- your soul a battleground, a
jar of nonexistent hearts.
how I wish you'd
known the way my eyes
searched for yours
across a sea full of people
that are less important than you.
I covered my heart
with lead to stop
myself from dreaming of you.
If only it had worked,
for now you have left me
with a harsh stone heart,
and you were the only
with the power to
What Hurts The MostDo you know what it feels like?What Hurts The Most by Oralle08
That feeling when others fight
It tears you up from the inside to the outside
And makes you want to curl up in a ball and cry
It’s makes you frustrated
“Shut up!” you want to scream
But instead you draw the curtains and lock the door
And stay inside til the storm blows over
They never pay attention when they argue
They never hear your muffled cries
They never hear your desperate pleas for silence
They only argue on and on
It feels like harm
It feels like a knife twisting in your gut
It feels like being a writer and getting your hands ripped off
It feels like a bruised, battered heart
You try not to listen to the words they yell
But there’s nothing else you can focus on
Their sharp, merciless words are terrible
Their words are tormenting your soul
It never seems to stop;
Just when you think the glowing embers are dying,
The fire begins to roar again
Conscious Stream From The Chemical PlantThe following is a non-fictional account of a conscious stream that took place during my exploration of a water treatment plant.Conscious Stream From The Chemical Plant by Schofield-Alan
I was at the office, looking at the wall-sized whiteboard. Around 200 buildings stared back at me, numbered and color-coded. I've been to pretty much all of them, but one unfamiliar number stuck out to me. #41. What a boring number. MUD Platte West, that's a Metropolitain Utilities District. I look up the address and drive. Just to go see it. And by the way, this isn't even a slow day for me, this is mostly what I do.
I drive West for 35 minutes, which is forever in Omaha time. One road, Q St, hills, meadows, an elementary school, more hills. 41 is easy to spot, it's a huge concrete thing in the middle of nowhere. I take the access road to the guard shack, he smiles, lifts the arm and I'm in. the tile is obnoxiously clean. &
Breaking in to Lit!IntroductionBreaking in to Lit! by projecteducate
Literature has long been considered one of the closest knit communities on deviantART. As a result, some people find it difficult to "break in" to the Lit crowd. There are rumors of elitism, difficulty in getting exposure, and lack-luster appreciation for the incredible work that goes into writing a good piece of prose or a well structured poem.
If you look at a painting you can see amazing detail, great use of color, and the importance of the subject immediately. You know it came from the artist's imagination and that he or she had to spend hours translating that to a canvas. The tangibility of the work is right in front of you. With writing, it is not quite the same. The effort the author puts into the work can only be appreciated if readers put in their own effort to read the work. The gratification is not instant, which is one reason the lit community is so close knit.
Those who do have large followings often also comment and read quite a lot of work h
Tips For Writing Flash FictionTips For Writing Flash Fiction by SRSmith
by Stephen R. Smith with excerpts by Kathy Kachelries
In order to improve as a writer, you need feedback. It's difficult to write something the size of a novel, and equally difficult to carve out the time required to read one and provide any sort of meaningful critique on it. This severely handicaps the feedback loop so important for the aspiring writer.
Flash Fiction on the other hand allows you to exercise all of your story writing and editing skills while creating works that can be read in a few minutes. This makes it ideal for examining ideas, developing writing skills and getting the feedback needed to help elevate you in your craft. Note that while Flash Fiction stories can be read in a few minutes, you shouldn't expect to write them that quickly.
Kathy Kachelries, founder of 365tomorrows, had this to say about Flash Fiction:
"The most concise and widely-cited example of flash fiction is the story Ernest Hemingway penned, allegedly to settle a bar bet: For sale: baby shoes.
Carve me out of clayI carved you out of poetry
like we once carved the innards out of pumpkins,
with each stroke of the pen
I open up your oval empty eyes,
stitch you a ragged crooked smile.
(We drew the outline
of something beautiful,
but somehow it slipped into something
Your temper flashes
in the candle flames, sadness lingering
in the sharp lines of your nose,
all the things you shouldn't have said
are recorded in the curve of your brows;
nothing is hidden and nothing is sacred,
you stare back at me, an amber glow exposing
every defect you'd spent a lifetime
trying to erase)
And you etched me into canvas
like we once painted my bedroom walls
to cover the flickering memories,
the staining fingerprints of someone who
no longer exists;
with each sweep of the brush
a flaw is erased -
an edge is smoothed.
(We sketched each other out,
inked every tragic flaw,
but you kissed away every bruise
with pastel lips, charcoal fingers
lingering over frown lines and the
cracks between bricks, trying to
untitledThat guy thinks he's heartless;
I watch him as he buys coffee
and gives it to everybody he passes
on the street who looks sad, and
his lips curl into a smile because
he made a joke that gave someone a laugh.
He holds his mother's hand on top
of hospital sheets, pressing the button
to pump morphine into her system
before he signals a nurse. Tears cascade
down his face when he watches
his mother take her last breath.
And his lips curl into a sneer as he walks
past a cloud of lung choking smoke,
thinking of the fume filled air
his mother suffocated herself in.
He thinks he's heartless, but
his heart is bigger than anyone's.
Critique on Blood and Secrets: Chapter 1 by FadedDreams5
Comment on The Plant in the Moss by NatureGuide
Comment on Book Cover - Making Amends by CB-Productions
Comment on unworthy. by bowie-loon123
Critique on Annie in the Garden by leyghan
Critique on Revolver in a Bag of Puppets by PursuingTheCerberus
Critique on To Know the Universe by OctoberAzriel
Critique on Fairly Feminist Fairy-Tale by MissGnat
Comment on Before The Boat Leaves: Freedom by angeljunkie
Comment on Stained Skies by sunwisp
Comment on A New Millenium by AspiredWriter
comment on fathers by flummo
Critique on Sweep by Geistlicher
Critique on And the Clock Ticked On by Write-to-Rebel
Critique on Gentle are the Strong by Vigilo
Comment on Dance for You by Lupizora
Comment on Re Birth by Braxton-T-Rutledge
Comment on Mama by DeriveAnemone
Comment on The Wizard's Princess by raspil
A Guide to Group-Hosted Contests on dAIntroduction
Breaking in to Lit!Introduction
Be A Hero, Report a Miscat!
Dear Lit Community, Some Solutionsdreamsinstatic wrote an open letter to the literature community specifically addressing issues he feels are detrimental to the health of the lit world on dA. Many of his concerns have been voiced by others in the community in past years and finding solutions to problems like fragmentation, cliques, and "elitism" (what I would call trolling) is no simple task. If, indeed, solutions need to be found at all. Below are my thoughts on some of the problems discussed in dreamsinstatic's article. Feel free to share your thoughts and ideas in the comments. Let's keep this conversation flowing.
Writing Useful Critiques
Flash Fiction Month July 2012Preface
Tips for the Messy WriterWhen the Muse Strikes
Poetry Basics: BrevityBrevity: n. the quality of expressing much in few words.
DeviantART: A Critical Community (Part 1)You may have heard...
Intrigue Behind the English DictionariesColor vs. Colour
Good day, miss.
It's always hard to explain how much you mean to me. When you give back to dA, when you write that one stunning poem that temporarily stops my breath, when you don't let stuff get you down too much. When you keep forging on. You tell me I have these qualities, but you embody these qualities far better than I do. You shine with them.. And people gravitate to that. It's a gift. Please don't forget that.
you're one of my writers.
The Great Lit Crit Event!Because Critique is Awesome!
What is SeniorSelections?
"SeniorSelections stands to feature premier artwork from the deviantART community through weekly features from each gallery category."
Basically, it is a group of senior members who are going to showcase their favorite picks from around the deviantART galleries every week. I'm part of the literature team, along with thetaoofchaos.
I am accepting suggestions!
I am accepting suggestions for Literature only. I will accept any form of literature except Scripts (sorry, I just don't know enough about them to feel comfortable featuring them to the community). Here are things I look for:
Strong, concrete imagery. Abstractions turn me off.
Intelligent structure and formatting.
A clear, well-developed theme, message, or story.
I especially enjoy socio-political, human nature, and Eastern styles. I'm not as likely to enjoy romance (unless it is very well written), fantasy, or fixed forms like the sonnet. But please DO send me anything you think I might enjoy.
Clear, concise language use that relies on concrete imagery.
Natural sounding dialogue.
An interesting plot or well-developed character (bonus points for both).
I prefer reading sci-fi/sci-fantasy, satire, non-fiction (especially autobiography and memoir), and comedy. I am unlikely to sit through high fantasy or romance. But again, do send me anything you think I may enjoy!
Extra special bonus points if you find good prosetry!
Send me a note with a thumb or link to the deviation you're suggesting. Please title your note: "SS Suggestion" or something to that effect.
Please only send your suggestion to ONE person on the SeniorSelections team.
One thumb or link per note, please. It helps me stay organized.
Please feel free to suggest simultaneously to other feature groups such as DailyLitRecognition.
I will respond to all suggestions as soon as I have time to read them. If you do not hear from me within a couple weeks, please feel free to send me a poke.
You can include a blurb about why you feel a piece deserves to be featured, but it is not necessary. Truly good literature speaks for itself.
If you have questions, please leave a comment on this journal.