glass bones and paper skinShe had always been a smidgen shortglass bones and paper skin by Medoriko
of something whole and he was never
broken to begin with.
Except sometimes they sort of were
entirely, irreparably, miserably, broken.
Where are you going?
Where are you going, where I can't follow?
And that, she finds for all of her brilliance and prodigal logic,
is something she couldn't answer.
It sort of scares her, a little,
when she thinks about it at night.
Especially when there's no one to see her,
and the only thing that touches her
is the inky darkness of her room.
Other things scare her too.
The thought of her name sprawled across a grave,
broken beyond repair. Yet, he is her line to humanity;
His smiles are her air.
He is all essence.
Yet, he bothers her in a way she didn't know
she could be bothered. They were oil and water;
open but couldn't fit.
She wonders if that's how he felt about it.
He still is everything, prodding at her mind.
He will always be everything.
Because he reminds her.
He reminds her of who she was before she was
Starry NightSwept up into theStarry Night by Medoriko
we are but children of
the final days.
I grasp your hand and sullen heart
as we spin into oblivion.
Turning CornersBack then I was afraidTurning Corners by Medoriko
I wouldn’t be able to find
the right words for you.
I’m still not there,
but I’m getting closer.
| Who's Who on dA (done by yours truly) |
Who's Who on dA: Issue 4Hey everybody!
Lit Etc: Where Lit and Art Intersect
Lit Etc. Volume 2: Valentine's Day Where Lit and Art Intersect: Celebrating the synergy between words and images.
[Volume 2: Valentine's Day]
Guide to the lit community
Being devious: A Guide to the dA Lit CommunityI've been asked frequently, in the last few weeks, by some new members in the lit community about exactly HOW they can hit the ground running in terms of their activity on dA. It goes beyond just submitting great pieces and hoping for the best. I came across various methods over these 8 years I've been around, and I wish I had been told a lot of these things when I first started. I discovered a lot of things by trial and error. So, I figure it would be a nice gesture to help out some of the deviants who have been inquiring about what course of action to take now that they are here. Here are some useful articles that will probably say most of the things I'm going to:
Latest ABC's of Lit Edition. (also done by me)
ABC's of Lit. Forms 'S'The aim of this project is to serve as a single collaborative collection of literature forms. The project can focus mainly on poetry forms, but can also include types of prose (examples: non-fiction, six word stories)! Since this project is about all of the writers on dA, that is where the community comes in. I am constantly needing more forms to add to the list. So please take the time to fill out a quick google survey, letting me know what forms you wish to see in this project as well as as how YOU would define it (if you choose). Feel free to include examples from dA as well, if you have any.
Updates from LadyLincoln
News from IrrevocableFate
Love DA Lit: Issue 197Welcome to the one-hundred ninety-seventh issue of Love DA Lit! Every Sunday this article will aim to promote volunteer opportunities, various resources, prompts, challenges, and workshops, as well as highlighting various contests. This is by no means a complete list of all the literature going-ons, merely a tool to help you get involved and stay informed.
Assist and Admin: Issue 4Ever thought about creating your own Literature group? STOP RIGHT THERE. You may not need to! There could already be a group that is doing the EXACT thing you want to do. Before you touch that 'Create a Group' button, check here to see if you can be a part of an admin team. You have the added benefit of already having a team around you. How cool is that?!
Love dA Lit Loves You: Vol. 11Hello lovelies. Love dA Lit Loves you! Well, it would if it were a sentient being, in the meantime please accept my undying love.
Features N' More from: TwilightPoetess
Undiscovered Gems(51)Don't forget about these, please:
A Call to Conversation :: :devlittleblueraccoon:If you have a deviant you'd like to see included, please send TwilightPoetess a note with the subject "Call to Conversation"--make sure to include the deviant's name as well as a reason you think they'd make a good interview subject! Also, feel free to send along a question or two you'd like to have answered by them!
Adjusting the Antennae chromeantennae
Adjusting The Antennae (Ep. 16)Hello one and all, and welcome to our second Thanksgiving special! Happy Thanksgiving and Happy Holidays to everyone as well. I'm so glad to have you all here today with me and my very, very special guest. However, before I dive right into who this guest is (And a familiar face here on this series), I am your host, chromeantennae and it is an honor and a privilege to be a part of your Thanksgiving, today. And since this is the day of giving, I really couldn’t ask for anyone better than the truly inspirational LadyLincoln. Jenene is one of my biggest dA heroes here and she is someone I whole-heartedly admire and love with all of my heart. She is someone I'm extremely thankful for in my life on and outside of deviantART.
PenhallowCover to cover
Blood running between the lines,
And lies like pollen
Spread from life to love and back.
Brother, grant the love we lacked.
Loved Deeper StillI have indeed loved deeper still
Before my mem'ry let you go,
And cast about for barren thrill.
I have indeed loved deeper still,
And I will love again. I will.
My calloused heart will overflow;
I have indeed loved deeper still
Before my mem'ry let you go.
Come back to me and force my hand--
I cannot cause myself to feel.
Your love my heart will not withstand;
Come back to me and force my hand.
Alas, you heed not my command.
Instead, you wish my soul to heal.
Come back to me and force my hand--
I cannot cause myself to feel.
This love steals slowly in the night--
I breathe the soft grace as I sink.
What must I do? How shall I fight?
This love steals slowly in the night.
I have indeed loved; you were right:
I built my shackles link by link.
This love steals slowly in the night--
I breathe the soft grace as I sink.
The Queen of ArtsI gave a sacrifice of skin and bones;
She slew the dragon fruit with orchid eyes
Once pasted 'gainst her skull in sky-green tones.
The hirsute holly held the best disguise.
Now round the garden goes our best intent.
Said four a.m., "the timorous must flee.
For this, the summer of our discontent
We must be brought to bare our hearts to thee."
The clock struck half past four and she is near,
Resplendent in her candled fairy home
Accepting homage for her fourteenth year
And casting minstrels out into the gloam.
O Queen of Arts, you bring this rhyme to close
With fourteen lines, a nightmare, and a rose.
My Present LongingI longed for summer
Back in dusty rooms of woodsmoke
Reveling in cocoa, briefly,
But aching for days I remembered
And full of joys in cut grass
And watermelon rinds.
Summer evenings cooled to sultry theatres
For fireflies on a clothesline-curtain stage.
And my age
Was two and a hundred sixty
For all the breeze knew.
Skinned knees at ten
Sunburnt knees at twenty
And now, knowing that the summer evenings
From the clothesline into winter
I wish I'd had more snow cones
And sticky hands at midnight
Ere the crisp leaf pumpkin autumn sends it home.
Foggy NightSnaking trails of mist
Cut my breath away;
Inhale the silent terror
Of a hundred memories;
Trees rattle with ice, unseen
Reaching in the shadowy curtain
To find me
To grip me
To hold me in this darkness
This shifting, sifting world of black.
Time stands still -
Only the fog moves,
Creeps over my skin;
Cold seeps into my bones,
Calling to mind desolate moors,
Creatures of other worlds,
Great, stretching, deepening, ghostly
Any Good It was a stormy day in the middle of a weary summer. Gray rain was smuding the windows of a certain darkened house. Robin sat in her living room, staring at shadows of droplets sinking over the walls.
At the very same moment, her younger brother was signing twin adoption papers in sunny California.
Baby birds were nestling in a tree close by, children of a sparrow rescued last spring.
A child in Haiti was still thrilling to the contents of a Christmas shoebox.
A beloved bulldog was home with his family after days on the run.
Hung on a sweet neighbor's mantle was a "thank you" card, bringing a smile whenever she dusted.
And a midwestern tornado spared a brilliantly-designed bank building.
Memories of supporting her brother through a dark depression, saving a sparrow, sending a shoebox, returning a lost dog, mailing a "thank you" note, and befriending a reclusive engineer
My Artist The first thing I ever saw was her thoughtful face, pondering over me. I didn't smile. I couldn't move. I barely had any life in me at all… I was so stagnant and flat. Yet somehow I was starting to live. I must have been very vivid in her brain.
The next time she drew me, I was in a much more dynamic pose. That was more like it. I could feel a personality shifting and taking form. I wondered who I was.
My hair got longer on the next page - a bit more wavey - and my eyebrows got a teensy bit sassier. My eyes were the favorite, though. She spent so long on each one, getting them just right. How thankful I was that she always sketched them first; I got to watch her draw the rest of me. Her forehead wrinkled and nose flared when she was most concentrated. She would let out sighs and little gibberish noises with her lips whenever she erased part of me. But whenever something was right, like a special flare i
Please Change BackI had learned to live with it, the rain.
It had become normal, accepted, expected
I was gasping with pain at first,
Every drop an acid sting,
But now it was a part of life.
But suddenly, thrillingly, surprisingly,
It changed to snow.
Every flake a new hope, cooling my old burns,
Wafting through the wind like precious dreams.
I never wanted it to end.
It was never supposed to end.
But it changed back to rain.
i will find foreveri've been told that
nothing is forever -
forever's only fantasy
but i will go and find forever
and i'll bring it back
for you and me
Skin and bones
Stained, torn shirt
Ripped pair of pants
All covered in dirt
Begging pleas dismissed
Beds and snuggies
And slumberous glory
Foolish dining -
Closets and drawers
"Nothing to wear"
We ask for more
So warm and hearty
Life HaikuThe secret to life -
But, hush, only you may know -
The secret is to
Love is...That dusty, old board game on the highest shelf -
Impossible to reach until we are tall enough.
Or perhaps, until a step stool is used? (Alas, however, that is blind ambition!)
But once we are tall enough, and we grasp it,
We find that some parts are broken,
Some parts are missing,
And the instructions are nowhere to be found!
We still play the game.
charging the skip
of the synaptic gap.
a stimulus hiss
ConcentrationI lost my mind a while ago,
I wonder where it went.
It could be fishing in a stream
or camping in a tent.
It might be flying in the air
or floating in the sea,
and the only place it isn't
is in my head with me.
The Rain fell UpIt was a blustery, gusty day,
storm clouds dark and dreary,
a perfect time to loaf away
but the rain
Human heads reclined,
water pooled along the blue
and no one had a single guess
as to what to do.
Scientists confounded and
as to why the precious water
away from earth had flew.
Would it stay exalted,
pooling in the air,
continue casting webbed light
from the atmosphere?
An astronaut in space said
the earth looked like a laugh,
a spinning, churning tub
with too much bubble bath.
And when his ship returned to earth...
Storm BrewersThe three old ones began to dance. No longer could they creak in their rocking chairs, tatting rainbows and humming soft rains. Their old bones whined, and they knew it was time to gather long bolts of wind and sing a storm into their cauldron (which is to say, the world).
The three of them, old and wrinkled, began to stomp out a gentle rhythm and one began to chant.
Cauldron, simmer sun no more,
better things for you in store,
fill yourself with winded wrath!
Cloth yourself with lightning flash!
Each moved their mouth in unison, only one speaking. They shared one voice between them.
Let no lightning strike or burn…
The second spoke, immediately contradicted her sister’s previous statement. The first opened her mouth in a voiceless yowl as the second continued.
rather, let the ocean churn
toss the beings out as chaff,
spare no mortal further path!
A frenzy followed, their dance quickened with wild intentions. The cauldron swirled with c
Shift your cogsMachinery.
for a tomorrow of hauling
-for you will be nothing more
than teethed wheels and wires
she will coolly keep her hands on the controls
so hope for no last minute blackfuses
TheatreAnd to think
out of four invisible walls
Folks have managed
to weary down our reading eyes
with floods of thesis.
The curtains can not restAs you meander
through the back stitches
of the high tables
-academics still assuming
every one plastered into the seats
is a wrighter of plays-
echoes of potential accidents
in the night
-tires leave their fears and shivers
they take seconds to reach my shivering window
-too late they arrive,
as the inane giggleshows
intrude from the neighbouring dormitore-
and sob their tragedy
augmented by the hauntings
of rains hours past.
The next week´s wheelings await none:
you hope the locks metalic
order will keep the talkdallying
away from your and your soldiering
thrugh this new years pensum
you hope thw window, with its pastel
eyelids sleeping the night
will relax and stretch purringly
what is left of your weekend
outside you must hear the hail
farewell -not!- the boredom
on the other side of your room
trust the window lulled
by the city´s bubbly speeches
coming from the night.
AstronomyBehind the atmosphere
of a lidded window
another twinkling household
is a fading star
in the night before the lifetoil.
Where Lit and Art Intersect: Celebrating the synergy between words and images.
Whether you draw, look through an old photo album, or spend some time searching through deviant Art , artwork is a great way to find inspiration for writing.
There’s something about the ambiguity of a photograph (especially of someone or something you’ve never seen before), or a stunning painting, that helps get the creativity flowing.
Literature, like the other arts, is an expression of individual thoughts and feeling achieved through the process of creation. Artists seek to share their experiences, observations, and understanding (their "truths") through the medium that most effectively lends itself to their personal skills and abilities.
Whether we are writing stories, painting pictures, writing music, composing a photograph, or creating a film, we are expressing our relationship to the world around us at any given moment. Art connects human beings to each other in that it allows us to share each other's perceptions, emotions, and experiences. A gifted artist may capture creatively what we feel but cannot express ourselves.
Literature can help to inspire other mediums of artistic expression. Challenging and powerful literature can set the stage for amazingly poweful and compelling representation in other forms.
I find other works of art, outside of literature, inspires me in my own creative processes. It is through this that Lit Etc is born. I want to bridge the gap between Literature and other forms of literature, through the amazing bits of art found in the nooks and crannies of this expansive site. I hope that you will find this project/collection to be awe-inspiring, or at least interesting enough to open your eyes to a truth: Whether you draw, photograph, paint or draw, we are all connected in our passions.
Volume 2: Happy Valentine's Day (or not)
Is It Love?If I hugged you,
would you never let go?
If I kissed you,
would you cherish that moment?
If I reached for your hand,
would you take mine gently?
If I needed a shoulder,
would you let me cry on yours?
If I needed to talk,
would you really listen?
If I needed to scream,
would you do it with me?
If I needed to go,
would you come with me?
If I fell for you,
would you catch me?
or just let me hit the pavement?
Love itI feel your hands in my hair.
I feel your breath on my neck.
I feel your body pressed so close to mine.
I feel your lips on my throat.
I feel your hands move to my back and your lips work their way up to mine.
I feel you and I love it.
I hear you say you love me.
I hear you whisper my name.
I hear you tell me I'm the only one for you.
I hear your breath in my ear.
I hear your soft snores as I fall asleep.
I hear you and I love it.
I see you as I run into your arms.
I see your face break through my world of darkness.
I see you fight away my fears.
I see you wipe away my tears.
I see you're in love with me.
I see you and I love it.
I taste your lips.
I taste your tongue.
I taste your throat as I kiss it.
I taste your love.
I taste your passion.
I taste you and I love it.
I smell your colone as I hold you.
I smell your shampoo as I hug you.
I smell your toothpaste as I kiss you.
I smell your excitement as you cuddle me.
I smell the smell I've been waiting so long to smell.
I smell you and
Is wanted and needed,
Like the falling rain.
It completes you,
It doesn't die,
It'll make you cry.
What I breathe for,
What's worth waiting?
This game of baiting?
You can't escape,
You can't deny it,
You can't ignore,
Or try to forget.
Every waking moment,
Every beat of the heart,
Everything you do,
For love from the start.
Find it within you.
Find it soon,
Find it in the shadows,
Of the fading moon.
Unrequited Love...You watch him from a distance
You love to see him smile
You wish one day he might be yours
If only for a while
You wish that you could tell him
To have the strength to say,
"I love you and I wish that you
Could feel the same one day!"
Your heart beats as he comes towards you
Only to walk on by
You try to tell yourself you don't love him
Try to believe your lie…
You wish, you dream, you hope, you pray
That you could be together
Maybe if you could make him see
That you two could last forever.....
I hate love poemsI hate love poems.
I am sick to death with,
"How soft are his lips",
"The curve of her hips",
I don't want to hear about these fallacies you build up in your head,
And write in your little black book to show your friends,
Pretending you're some great poet.
The world is filled with billions of topics, and yet,
Nine times out of ten,
Amateurs, with their books of words
And rhyming dictionaries,
Chose to write about an emotion, a fear of loneliness.
"Her golden hair",
"His chocolate stare",
I can't take it anymore.
One at a time, you march onto stage, and squint in the glaring spotlight
As you smile at the faceless, dark audience
And pour out your thoughts on love
With bad rhyming and questionable syncopation.
Poem after poem after poem
"I feel his hands upon my neck",
"When you're gone I am a wreck",
And I sit there, on that itchy green sofa and wish
With every single bone in my body,
Going past the bones and wishing with every inch of myself,
That I was anywhere but here.
Love Hate RelationshipI hate your perfect smile
I hate your perfect teeth
I hate that your the only one who can look at me and see what's beneath
I hate it when your hair looks great
I hate when I see you out on dates
I hate the way you make me feel like you're the only one that's real
I hate it when you ostracize me
Even worse when you make me feel guilty
For thinking secret thoughts of you that your girlfriends would never let me do
I hate it when you're mean
I hate that I can't be your dream
I hate that no matter how hard I try you always make me want to die
I hate that she has taken you away
And there's no longer a reason to be here today
I hate that you have caused me to cut but I mostly hate that I can never truly hate you, no matter what
Where Lit and Art Intersect: Celebrating the synergy between words and images.
This is my attempt to blend the two.
twitchitorywith their shotguns
held you at breaking point
till overboiling with adhesive stars
and saran wrap
with a riptide
of exquisitely pent-up politesse
some waves we measure
by their troughs, others by their crests
and I’m lingering on a line of incision
filth fingered and flayed
at the lips
Reasonable Doubt (Seasonable Scars)this is a matter of pleading guilty.
this is violation
of the deepest filler fabric
the waning of budding trees
wire spilling beneath the eye’s least windowshade
all strings gather
some epileptic fissure of the mind: —
reading between the lines, there is an ancient
birthright that is opening its arms to hypocrisy
its petals to pollen:
day by endless dayoften and more often
my eyes sting with tears for
reasons I can’t explain /—/
I’ve got a calendar with a Van
Gogh painting for each month
and I’m crossing off time on it
one d a y at a time /:/
the painting for
February is a blossoming tree
and I look out the window
and I put on my
and I close my eyes.
what i'd like to know ishow do you like your
now that she has shown
dreams of icarusI deal the misfortune
that so naturally befalls the Hitchcock clocktower
he will never see me coming so long
as you never learn my name:
and the sky so true
you will forget it is even real
I dabble in the despair
that Steinbeck once put to his lips
narrowed his crinklecut eyes
and left to the dreams of icarus:
just imagine, he would take off his spectacles
and raise a hand to the gratefullest, joyfullest moment of my life;
wildi am not accustomed to being loved
& i once was a fox in a trap,
but even foxes can be tamed
(take the woods from the beast,
and you will only kill it.)
Untitledbroken heartstrings choke me
(i am sorry to disappoint)
and i am sorry that this heart is weary,
this skull is engraved with past mistakes.
(and yet i just keep failing.)
Red string of fate: collabRed string of fate,
Red as blood,
Who am I tied to?
Does this string lead to you?
You tie my future
To my fated one
You wrote my past
Red string of fate.
Together we are complete
Without you my tears fall
Red as blood.
What is my destiny?
Where does it lead?
Who is my fated one?
Who am I tied to?
I think this is love I feel for you
But this string is so tangled
And the world is so painful
Does this string lead to you?
Untitledi am a metaphor for tragedy,
and you should know
(red says i'm a monster
he would know, wouldn't he?)
hamartiaBlue says I should be dead.
I say I already am.
There’s a strange duality to neurogenesis—what I am and what I was, converging, creating what I am to be. I go to the funerals of people I never knew. She knew them. She, me…what’s the difference?
Where do I draw the line between who I was and who I am now? With every passing second I am dying and being reborn, a phoenix in the ashes of neurons.
It would be easier if Blue would leave. I find solace in the fact that one day, all of my memories will fade, including my memories of him. At the same time, it haunts me, the winter when I suffered miserably—the first time I truly died.
I draw too many parallels between him and the flame…my flame. My hero boy. Perhaps it’s just coincidence, the things they have in common…perhaps my two truest loves simply click in the same way.
In my bones, I know that Blue is dead. If not truly dead, then dead to me. Maybe he’s not a six-feet-under boy in tha
[Letters]4. [i used to believe you,
until your smile cracked;
deceit ran through your veins
and your ribcage shook
with whispered breaths
had a knack for
finding specks of sun-
shine in abandoned
and i would
see your face
light up with joy
that i couldn't
never let anyone
see that flicker
of light, again)
[Letters]3. [my memory is fickle; this one i won't forget]
i always thought that we
spiral springs and gears
(and every thing's covered
in rust, i shouldn't
have stood outside
in the rain
for so long
but nothing else
could remind me
of what it felt like
to be forgotten)-
striding through mazes
with a sixth sense for
its light tracing through
the cracks in the pavement
(and their eyes are at
half mast, and wide awake)
whispers don't pass by
without making a sound
a mute-spell was bound
to wear off when
the ocean of their
'i could have been'
through the same
was standing above-
catch, record, returnchapter one had been
burned - nothing but
a pile of ash left at
her apartment door
three, was lost
- unkempt at the seams,
reams of paper flowing
outwards from fickle
four never came home
- never tried to break
the silence left in the wake
of the sun, burning
through the window
two, was confused
-too frightened to tend
to the others when
they wandered aimlessly
five was watching
-pulling the others
back by their edges
silently, calmly, contentedly
observing as it remained
open, at the desk of the one
who had just left
phone in hand
in the dust
-in a dream full
Ghosts dance and whisper songsThe sun, vanquished once more, its last rays of warmth long departed, left this world one of shadows. Gigantic fluffy clouds hovered above, carpeting the sky, separating the heavens from mere mortals, and from them, driven by a compelling wind fell a million and one unique icy stars with the sole intention of coating the world white. Trees - bare, countless fingered hands beings, swayed, waved, stretched for life, and one such specimen’s reach was far enough, it tickled a certain window.
The hour was late, though not so as to have enticed the Liz from her book to a sanctuary of dreams. In the spare bedroom of her friend Amy’s house, with Maya the black and white collie who she was dog sitting dozing at the bottom of the covers, she read under the gaze of a lonesome light, because sleep, that slippery companion, would never appear unless she devoured words before bed. Though her mind wasn’t intertwined with the tome, no, it was distant, at the hospital, in a ward with
Life is beautifulThe past teaches lessons
gives contrast to the future
just as death does to life.
Because that’s what makes all this so beautiful
that no matter your sex, age, beliefs
any second could be your last.
Flying a kite to our playlistBefore I met you
I fell out of love with music
It was all the same
My enjoyment in it's presence, elusive.
You shared your heart
Showed me a world of lyrics through your eyes
Set to base, guitars, piano and beats
my world was lifted up to the skies.
Life had a soundtrack once more
Powered by our declaration, friends forever whatever
We bestowed each other gifts of melody
Bringing smiles for any such weather.
Now all that is done
You decided to end our unity
With you, our ballads dead
I too, die inside truthfully.
Our songs have survived
They play morning, noon, and night
And I think of you
Hope, dream that one day
to our playlist
Not goodwhat hurts more?
your words or silence?
cut deeper than
a knife in the back.
A RoseI know I should think of her not
to save my sanity, she must be forgot
She's a rose, taken root in my mind
sharp, beautiful, deadly, kind
A travesty it will be to end such heart
like putting a blade to the greatest work of art.