Shop More Submit  Join Login
About Literature / Student Premium Member Vic:The Butcher25/Female/Canada Groups :iconlitrecognition: LitRecognition
 
Recent Activity
Deviant for 8 Years
4 Month Premium Membership:
Given by twent47blue
Statistics 656 Deviations 13,028 Comments 45,431 Pageviews

Newest Deviations

Groups

Lit Community Projects and Misc Other.





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:
 These two articles are more in-depth, so I would highly suggest taking a look here.
As for my own personal experiences, here are some ways of getting yourself out there.
1. Comment, comment, comment.
Maybe even a critique or two, if you're feeling daring. Think of the
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)! La la la la 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.
:dalove: This will be continuously updated as more come along, so stay tuned!
Thank you to those who have taken the time to send in something for the Google Survey, along with instructions and tidbits. They were very helpful. :heart: 
100 Theme ChallengeI am FINALLY getting around to doing this. I need something to get me going for writing, other than the Two Thousand Words Project...so yeah. :lol:
THE 100 THEME CHALLENGE!
1. Introduction 
2. Love 
3. Light 
4. Dark 
5. Seeking Solace 
6. Break Away 
7. Heaven 
8. Innocence 
9. Drive 
10. Breathe Again 
11. Memory 
12. Insanity 
13. Misfortune 
14. Smile 
15. Silence 
16. Questioning 
17. Blood
18. Rainbow 
19. Gray 
20. Fortitude 
21. Vacation 
22. Mother Nature 
23. Cat 
24. No Time 
25. Trouble Lurking 
26. Tears 
27. Foreign 
28. Sorrow
29. Happiness
30. Under the Rain
31. Flowers
32. Night
33. Expectations
34. Stars
35. Hold My Hand
36. Precious Treasure
37. Eyes
38. Abandoned 
39. Dreams
40. Rated
41. Teamwork
42. Standing Still
43. Dying
44. Two Roads
45. Illusion
46. Family
47. Creation
48. Childhood
49. Stripes
50. Breaking the Rules
51


DDs, DLDs, Features, etc







:iconfeaturedbydldplz::iconfeaturedbydld2plz: (My DLDs)

Bait and SwitchBougainvillea blooms
and tall, shaded ferns disguise
this sorrowful life.
Fear NotBe the sky that I
can jump into; Your eyes are
pools of stepping stones.



:iconhonoredddplz::iconhonoredddplz2: (MY DDs)

Life on DisplayShe had grown up in a world
of coupon clippings, muffled ears
and tip toeing around broken glass.
Bruised feelings towards the world
that looked so narrow and thin;
Felt like a resolutely locked door.
Always grasping for the heavens
with a desire and ferocity
of piercing iron claws.
Dominating the skies with all the
bulk and majesty of a bird of prey.
Boxed in at one corner of a city;
dusty and forgotten.
Yet, always guaranteed to be visible
at night. Raging quietly through
the darkness like the last bit of embers
on the end of her stamped cigarette butt.
Artsy and upscale enclaves beckoned her.
Hidden oases of roasting coffee, hip music
and fresh-cut flowers. So unlike the barren
desert of chain convenience stores and dreary
apartment blocks she called home.
Beautiful young women
clink marble china together, bobbling
around each other like planets bobbling
around the sun; All struggling for recognition
and permanence. All the while, defiantly staring
into the face of the force that ga
SolaceShe never slept well in the dark,
not without the children of the sun and moon
to guide her weary lids home.
Guided by the aftermath, she was always two steps behind.
What did the world look like to the girl who had been through it all?
Braved the heaviest of storms,
yet skipping over cracks in the pavement.
They said her eyes were the wisps of clouds before the storm.
To him they were reflections of pages overlooked.
She said it was like she lived the life of someone she had never met.
Laid out to dry, yesterdays news.
He knew her as the girl who was built to never collapse.
He wished he was too.
He loved her more than words could say, and yet her pain was such,
that at times, he feared she wouldn’t make it.
But on nights like these, even when it threatened to consume her,
he became convinced that somehow she would.


Thank you Stamp. by itsreality

Spotlights on... #16What's up people?
It's cool to see that despite summer, people on this website are still as active as usual ahah. Oh and btw my DA 1 year anniversary is coming veeery soon (on August the 2nd). :D Nostalgia nostalgia.
I changed a little bit the way I'm doing these features, now I'll also be featuring deviants that are worth your attention, because of their skills/spirit/kindness/etc.
Hope you'll enjoy!
Plum facts #9 : I studied classical literature and how to analyse prose/poetry with the use of literary and lyric tools. That's why I think I might be very sensitive of the author's style, which defines IMO the quality and the richness of the text. 
Have you studied any classical authors or even modern literature?   
I am a dummy! DEVIANTS AND DEVIATIONS I am a dummy!

Kurtzan - Awesome support, well-
Spotlights on... #15Wow already #15. I still remember the feeling I had when I posted my first features articles: I really wanted to share my favourite art with all my friends, supporters and watchers. I received several compliments and praise for my features articles therefore I definitely can't stop doing them. :) (Smile)
I'm aware I might miss some unknown artists that need more exposure, and I'm sorry for that. I'm doing what I can to please all of you, and please me as well. 
I hope all of you have a great week so far. Summer definitely came back, and mosquitos too. Crying  Feel free to note me if you ever wanna talk, about anything. I'd love to share my stupid stories with you. Anyway enjoy this 15th wave of features. Make art, not war. 
See you soon! Hi!
Plum facts #8 : I've found a new hobby, watercolour. I just came across some amazing pieces of

The Ink Stained Quill Vol. IIIHello everyone! It's Kelsy, aka SpriteBlayde here. Welcome to the third volume of The Ink Stained Quill. This series focuses on the amazing writers we have here on deviantART. Each installment will feature a deviant who you may, or may not know, who is willing to answer some of my questions! Whether you are a long time writer, or a newbie, there is something for everyone in the series who is looking to improve their craft or for some light reading.
Today we have a guest who is insanely awesome. Her name is Nadia, but you may know her as Medoriko. I've been her watcher for long enough to know that Nadia puts out a variety of pieces. Her writing is truly incredible, she's one of the gifted writers who only has to write a couple of words to hit you head on with emotion. I highly recommend you browse her gallery, you won't be disappointed. :heart:

Before we start, is there anything you would like to
Random Feature Time!As the title says, it's a random feature! Before I begin, I would like to mention that I am still open to collaborations. If you're interested, please note me or comment here: http://spriteblayde.deviantart.com/journal/Poetry-Collaboration-453343304.
Now for the features! I will feature a couple of my personal favorite pieces from each person. :)
1. chromeantennae Not that he needs my help, but he's my best friend and an incredible writer. His style is so versatile and his subject matters cover a broad range. Please, go check out his stuff!

2. Medoriko I love this lady's writing! She has one of those styles of writing that make even the simplest of messages complex and meaningful. Please, go show her some love. :)

3. WeirdAndLovely She is an amazin

A Feature full of LOVE Let's start with some words that I adore.
    


HaikuWriMo. LOVE
I am participating in HaikuWriMo this year and it has been so much fun!  Here are some wonderful Haikus!
  






I updated my own Haikus today. In this one, I added three new haikus all in the genre of romance to celebrate Valentine's Day!
Haiku Bingo. Complete! by prettyflour
Now for some beautiful Photography!




and some crazy good Digital Art:


Monthly Feature of Works!Welcome to :iconPoeticalCondition:'s Monthly Feature of Works!
Please take a moment and enjoy these fabulous words.

by FirecrackerLady

by Medoriko

by Miellat

HoldTheNoise

by X3beyondthesunx3

by AsterGirl

by Bombatoria

by hypermagical
Congratulations to those chosen!
Keep writing and submitting, maybe next month, one of your pieces will be chosen.  :)
(We will not be accepting nominations for monthly feature of works, they are chosen at random by the admins. Please feel free to continue sending your nominations for our Member of the Month!)
See you next month!

ITU Feature 19 - June 28, 2013 :bulletblue: :bulletblue: :bulletgreen: :bulletblue: :bulletblue: Inspire The Uninspired Fortnightly Feature :bulletblue: :bulletblue: :bulletgreen: :bulletblue: :bulletblue:
Hello, members and visitors of InspireTheUninspired! Welcome to our fortnightly feature, where we present four fantastic deviations from our gallery. This week I'll be sharing two deviations from both the Non-Fiction folder and the Poetry - Free Verse folder along with two other deviations from the deviant's gallery.
:iconsmadams:
SMAdams

Nightmares by SMAdams tells the story of a woman fighting her subconscious while she is plagued by nightmares. The descriptive imagery perfectly captures the feeling of being trapped and violated by our nightmares, something that many people are well acquainted with. It is the author's vast knowledge of language and prose writing that really brings this feeling to life.
:
NaPoWriMo Feature #4Sooo hi. Yes, I know it's been almost two whole months since NaPo ended, but I am lazy and irresponsible so there. Here is the final installment of the NaPo features, with, once again, three of my favorite NaPo poems from all of the winners. Enjoy!
:iconmedoriko:
Medoriko

:iconsilver-ships-fly:
silver-ships-fly

:iconthe-night-dreamer:
The-Night-Dreamer

:icondrippingwords:
DrippingWords
April 30th, 2013 by DrippingWords April 21st, 2013 by DrippingWords
:icongloryousglory:
GloryousGlory
Day 7 by GloryousGlory Day 16 by GloryousGlory Day 28 by GloryousGlory
:iconneurotype:
neurotype
NAPOWRIMO by neurotype
PS. I wanted to put your actual poems, but sta.sh doesn't have thumbs :(
:iconsammur-amat:
Sammur-amat
I do not write, by Sammur-amat to the vulture who thought himself a lion by Sammur-amat rock bottom, ocean floor by Sammur-amat
:icontheomegapoint:
TheOmegaPoint
The Omega Point by TheOmegaPoint Bradycardia by TheOmegaPoint The Certain Comfort of a Rare Thing by TheOmegaPoint

Literature Roadtrip: Day 06The beautiful pieces of literature featured here today are written by extremely talented deviants. As you explore their galleries you will be amazed and captivated. I urge all of you to read a few of the pieces showcased, give them some comments and add them to your favourites. I know that these deviants would greatly appreciate it.
I also suggest that the deviants here today, take some time and look at two another pieces here. You may find a deviant you have never come across before.
:heart:
-----
Medoriko
  
Kiefer115
  
Sammur-amat
  
PrussianPersephone
 lion boy by PrussianPersephone curiouser and curiouser by PrussianPersephone
prettyflour
simple pleasures by prettyflour Almost... by prettyflour S.O.S. by prettyflour
falconess22
Clematis by falconess22 Death by falconess22 A Bad Idea? by falconess22
saltwaterlungs
:thumb3
Fantastic Feature Tuesday #45Please this news article so it will reach a larger audience!
This is a weekly feature of amazing literature that I come by during my
travels across deviantART. This is only a small sample of a vast amount
of wonderful pieces of literature written by absolutely fantastic
writers. Each deviation was carefully selected from a writer's gallery
based on structure, impact and word usage. I will never feature the
same person twice (though this gets harder to keep track of
now that we can change usernames), so check out these lovely writers now while you can!



Sunny Days by TotallyUncreativeMe



<3 Coheed and Cambria Forever <3












Daily Lit Recognition Poetry Admin








~Hell Raiser~







Activity


The silence rings loudly in my ears
as we sit across from each other,
trying to put pieces back
together that no longer fit.  

You are an unwavering statue;
Immobile, and I can’t help but wonder
where the person I used to love
had gone.
You fall so fast;

A comet on its way

to impact.

 

As you descend,

I have to wonder if

I ever really knew

you.

 

From Grace
Part of Synergy from :iconlive-love-write:

The optional challenge was to take a poem that was critiqued by one of my partners and rewrite it. 

Original poem:  StarstruckYou fall so fast,
a star caught in the sky
of fame and fortune.
I have to wonder if I
ever really caught you.


After it was critiqued, I decided to make a more (hopefully) clear poem on what I was going for before. This is a different take. It is watching someone you thought you knew have their "fall from grace" moment. I hope this is more clear for my partners <3


Also: :iconglory-be-project: 

Note: In case you're wondering. I do not mean a "crash to earth", so no I do not mean a meteor of some sort. I'm speaking of impact metaphorically anyway. 
Loading...
Irrevocable Fate is the most awesome person ever. I Win.Skrillex- Wink emote 

Feature Part 2

Journal Entry: Wed Nov 19, 2014, 10:33 AM
This feature is for Jallarial, who snagged 2nd place in the contest over at :devTheWrirersMeow: :happybounce: Congratulations, and here is your feature:

Winning Piece:

The Artist's MeowThe moment was frozen in suspended animation. The inkpot hovered in the air above the map, spread out below it in all its handmade glory. Then Myu's tail snapped forwards and the illusion dissipated; the inkpot smashed onto the table and the ink spilled all over.
Myu disappeared as quickly as the details of the map did underneath the indelible ink.
Now it was Lielle's turn to be frozen. She was frozen with horror as she took in the damage to her beloved map. Drawn in painstaking detail over the course of half a year, under the instruction of her tutor, it was her masterpiece and her joy. She had dedicated the main table of her study to it; pinning the paper carefully to the edges of the table and making sure nobody and nothing remotely harmful came close to it.
Until now.
Now Myu, her cat, had infiltrated the study and flung a pot of black ink over it with a swish of his tail. What made it worse was that the event unfolded right in front of Lielle's eyes. Had she come upon the disaster


Other Pieces: 

Family mends where friends endI have always wanted a friend whose mind works the way mine does. It does not have anything to do with comparison; I do not mean to say that I am an intellectual Everest surrounded by molehills, that nobody “measures up to me”. It is just that the way different radio stations are on different frequencies, I wanted someone on my frequency.
My frequency matched others’ in the manner of a Venn diagram (in which each component is represented by a circle, and the places where the circles overlap stand for the qualities shared by the overlapping elements). I “fit in” with many different people, but nobody fitted me.
In school, I used to keep raising my hand until the teacher told me to let somebody else answer. I still remember the time in eighth grade when the teacher asked what whales were hunted for, and I answered “blubber”. A classmate blasted me with a wide-eyed look of incredulity that I have not forgotten to this day. I was the only one in th
On a brownie highI have a sweet tooth, a chocolate tooth and a filled tooth. The latter is a result of the former. In order to keep the filling in its proper place and not yank it out mid-chew, I avoid chewing sticky foods on that side. That means taking a bite of the chocolate, transferring it all to the side which is yet unmolested by the siege of sweetness, and chomping it one-sidedly to slush. My jaw does not like this arrangement. It protests. I insist that I’ve received the “overload” memo. It puts up banners and waves flags. It sends a whole “too much strain on this end” message through flag-waving signals. Finally, I give in. I cut back on the chocolate input through chocolate bars and look for substitutes instead. Chocolate mousse. Chocolate cake. Chocolate ice cream. Chocolate choco latte. You get the idea.
It is every chocoholic’s dream to find something that is rich but not overwhelmingly so. I discovered my something the day I started experimenting with
ConquestIt was a sheer drop, fifty feet at least. He did not go easily; he had to be
dragged by the shirt collar, kicking and squealing, with a cuff and a curse
added for good measure. The bottom of the gorge was deep and dark, with
no way out save to scale the vertical walls.
He didn’t like the dark.
“I want some light around here!” he called. His voice was needle-thin. It
barely penetrated the thick, stifling air. The echoes laughed, and there was
no light.
“Light!” he repeated, beginning to grow a trifle annoyed, “I asked for light!”
“Asked?” said a voice.
“Yes, asked,” he repeated angrily.
“Asked?”
“You heard the first time! I asked!”
“You didn’t ask.”
This was an unforeseen obstacle. He tried to peer through the darkness, as
though to cleave it with his very gaze.
“I asked,” he ventured eventually; in what he thought was a winning tone.
“You didn’t ask,


Flip that shoe before I flip my shoe at youAn upturned shoe invites a medley of reactions.
"Turn it over!"
"Be quick about it!"
"The shoe!"
Or just plain calling you over and pointing towards the offending object.
That's because in desi-land--that's Pakistan and India to you folks--an upside down shoe is supposed to be disrespectful to God. I don't know how this superstition originated--but each and every Pakistani elder has this thinking firmly inscribed in stone in their minds: flip the shoe before I flip my shoe at you.
I usually comply when elders tell me to turn upside down shoes. Not because I think it makes much difference to God, but because I think it shows respect to my elders.
Will I tell my children to put their shoes upright, that is the question. The truth is, upside down shoes look untidy. While I might not have the same ingrained response to an overturned shoe as my elders, I will probably still ask others to turn them over. And turn them over myself. I suppose it's plain old cultural programming.
While two shoe
Call it autumn or fall, you should have a ballMy father's Skype status is "fall season has finally arrived". It was something he put up more than a year ago--all year round, it was irrelevant, until autumn came back again and lo and behold, the status had meaning again.
I found other meaning in that status, too. My father is in his fifties, my mother is in her forties. I can safely say that they count as "middle aged"; they are in the autumn of their lives. They are the last generation to grow up without a cell phone. They can no longer party as hard as they used to. Naptime is sacred and inviolable. The quirks of a settled and routine life characterise their existence.
They are also in the autumn of their marriage: in the spring they wed, in the summer they planted and raised, and now in the autumn it is time to reap what they sowed all those years ago. I am talking, of course, about raising children. My brother and me. Both of us are adults in our early twenties now.
They say sixty (or is it fifty?) is the youth of old age. The
Unsuccessful shoppingI do not know how they talked me into it. Let me think. Oh, yeah. It was dear old mom, proclaiming her wish to visit the mall before being put to eternal slumber. It was Zoha, too, claiming proof of my undying love. Does filial duty and holy matrimony depend on becoming the family driver? That’s what it seems nowadays. Life is not fair.
I’d regret it, I knew. But I did it. If driving four miles in the rush hour to the nearest shopping centre with incessant female chatter boring into one’s ears is not proof of filial and marital loyalty, I don’t know what is.
To begin with, they wanted shoes. I steered them to the nearest outlet and spent half an hour watching them pull every footwear within reach off the shelves. It was Cinderella redone, minus the prince. The prince was off-duty, observing from a safe distance. After thirty minutes’ worth of bargain-hunting, they decided that that store was not for them. Enough to satisfy the common populace, but not for


Life ManagementDear Human,
This is to inform you that life as you know it has been binned. There were a lot of complaints regarding life as it had been, so it was decided that a new system be adopted, which will hopefully be pleasing to everyone. As of now, life is an RPG. There is no need to worry; this letter outlines everything you need to know.
First things first. You will not age! That does away with the whole search for everlasting youth thing. No need to bother scientists with genetic research and the like. Convenient, huh? Instead, you will gain experience points as you defeat monsters on the field, which will allow you to move up from level to level and become stronger. This will allow you to be able to kill stronger beasties and become even stronger, until you hit the roof, level 99, at which nothing will pose a challenge to you anymore. At this level, you can either choose to revisit old areas and watch adversaries shrivel up at your mere presence, or you can head towards one of the crazy-
 :heart:

  • Listening to: The Hound (Of Blood and Rank): Coheed and Cambria
  • Watching: Property Brothers
  • Playing: Diablo III
  • Eating: Avocado Salad
  • Drinking: Tea

Feature! Part 1

Journal Entry: Mon Nov 17, 2014, 11:39 AM
So, I put on a contest a bit ago for my group :iconthewritersmeow: and after some difficult decisions, we finally were able to choose our winners. As promised, here is the first part of the 3 part feature for the winners!

1st Place:

Celesol

Winning Piece:

Brimstone SoldiersBrimstone Soldiers
By Cassidy Lorraine
When I was little, all my mother used to talk about were her Brimstone Soldiers.
  They sounded fierce, terrifying – I imagine them as residents of hell – with their metal teeth that make a battlefield cacophony when crunched together, or the fiery eyes that burned into your vision the same way sunlight would.
  Those were my mother’s words, but no matter the horror stories and harsh descriptions she would give of them - even when she explained the way their mouths could crush bone – she always spoke fondly of them. A twisted type of maternal sweetness that said ‘no matter what they've done, my children aren't monsters.’
 This bothered me; in the last twenty-seven years, from the moment I was born, my mother has never spoken that way about me.
  I suppose I got used to it over time, but I would be lying if I said there wasn't jealousy some days – some days I just wanted


Other Pieces:

RedThe greatest red I've ever seen
was the color reflected in your eyes
as the light jumped off the gun shot wound
and you bled until you died.
A Walk around the Writer's BlockIt's not the street I usually go down, but for some reason, that day I turned down a different road.
The twisted black shadows of trees played like lattice work on the cobblestone floor. I didn’t bother looking back to see the other path; I was all too familiar with it already.
Besides, it lead to a house full of blank white pages and crumpled quill pens.
I didn’t want to deal with that right now. The whiteness reminded me of a gleaming teeth, faintly yellowed, juxtaposed next to black ink.
The ink were hollow, staring eye sockets, I imagined.
I shuddered at the thought.
The shadows playing on the ground suddenly struck me similar to a rib cage, but what did the coiling black bones protect?
A twinkling laugh, like the sparkling of stars made my vision rise from the ground. A lovely woman, dressed in a cream colored frock waved her greeting to me.
I felt myself turn rosy and gave her my greetings. She went on her way, doing her best not to laugh.
I couldn’t blame her.
On The Other HandOn one hand, it was the only way to survive – on the other hand; could she really live with herself?
When the children were placed before Masozi, who was shaking like a leaf, they were told not to cry. They held somber faces – they knew the sacrifice they were making – and they shed no tears for the life this woman was going to take.
They told her, “thank you, Masozi, don’t cry for us, please.”
Masozi was not nearly as composed; she wept, quaked, vomited and cursed. She tore at her hair and yelled for death to come and take her.
“No, no, my lady,” said the children, “your name is Masozi; not for the tears you shed, but for those flowing from your enemy when they see you coming.”
So she stood, raised her sword, and, keeping her eyes shut tight, she swung with all her might. She stayed to see the two children be buried – and she lauded their families for the sacrifice and nobility – before she went out, alone, to fac

The Summer SolsticeThe young boy kept up a determined canter through the melted and re-frozen sheet of ice on the ground.
 He was wrapped to the nines in coats and scarves, and had a hard enough time moving, but to add to this, he clutched quite desperately a precious bundle filled with slightly lumpy carrots, potatoes, and bad smelling cabbage – it didn't seem like much, but thanks to the tough ground and bitter cold, it was the best the ground would yield.
 But the boy – Shay was his name – was not excited about the food in his arms, nor about the banquet his granny was planning to make from it.
 He was excited about the Summer Solstice that the banquet was honoring. It was happening this very day, though the stubborn hoarfrost clinging to the leaves very much wished to debate this fact.
 It was a festival honoring the coming of Summer, meant to dispel the harsh frost and freezing weather; making way for the brilliant warm days to come.
 Only, the thing was, y
The Doll MakerThe Doll Maker
It was all dark here. Like a swirling vortex of starless sky. My trembling hands clawed my way toward what I hoped was the surface.
My mind was swirling with thoughts and feelings, but there were no language in my head that I could use to put words to these emotions. Everything was just pictures and feelings - nerves and optics.
When I finally broke my way through the surface of the ink-black liquid, my day-old eyes didn't know what to do. I blinked and gasped, and blinked some more.
I hurt all over, but not because of pain, more because of the absence of pleasantry that I had been used to from my lovely ‘egg’ – what I could now see was a wooden, barrel-like object that was covered in sticky blackness thanks to my graceless exit.
“Three-zee.” A voice like a rumbling volcano filled my ears.
A living being - a wonderful being - dressed all in fine purples and earth tones showed itself to me.
It was a man. My father, to
Midnight Pukka ride
I hear the sound
that jangles round
the metallic click of chain
the whinnies cut through
the night time gloom
and enter straight into my brain
so despairing
my heart was caring
Afraid? Not I in the least.
So my friends and I
decided to try
to free the melancholic beast
we found it there
a pitch black mare
caught up in chains and vines
a ruby red stare
no saddle, all bare
I decided to make it mine
I jumped astride
ready for a ride
That’s when my friends all screamed
“Oh, good grief,
What pointy teeth!”
It was true- and oh, how they gleamed
I tried to escape
But found I was too late
The chains held fast to me
The horse made off
With me still aloft
Galloping someplace I could not see
For hours we rode
Until the sun glowed
Only then did the chains start to drop
Too tired to care
I slide off the mare
And hit the ground with a plop
“Thanks for the fun,
O sleepy one.”
Red eyes stared into mine.
“Next time you want a Púkka ride,
you know who you can f


The Banshee's CallMy master waning
By Bloody veining
Caused by red tears of the heart
My lady there
Pale and bare
On this day she did depart
We were seeing
His lonely being
Ignore us and face his fate
A woman calling
Like caterwauling
Passing through the midnight gate
The way she sings
Like a violin's strings
Parted the speechless crowd
It was his reckoning
She was beckoning
Head held regal and proud
So on this day
There was no way
We could deny the sight we see
My master bleeding
The lady leading
For no one defies the Banshee
Clashing Kinsmen by CelesolWill O' Whispers by Celesol

:dalove:

CSS by CherieNoir. Graphics by Tzolkin, HauntingVisionsStock and Lileya.
  • Listening to: The Hound (Of Blood and Rank): Coheed and Cambria
  • Watching: Property Brothers
  • Playing: Diablo III
  • Eating: Avocado Salad
  • Drinking: Tea

Feature Part 2

Journal Entry: Wed Nov 19, 2014, 10:33 AM
This feature is for Jallarial, who snagged 2nd place in the contest over at :devTheWrirersMeow: :happybounce: Congratulations, and here is your feature:

Winning Piece:

The Artist's MeowThe moment was frozen in suspended animation. The inkpot hovered in the air above the map, spread out below it in all its handmade glory. Then Myu's tail snapped forwards and the illusion dissipated; the inkpot smashed onto the table and the ink spilled all over.
Myu disappeared as quickly as the details of the map did underneath the indelible ink.
Now it was Lielle's turn to be frozen. She was frozen with horror as she took in the damage to her beloved map. Drawn in painstaking detail over the course of half a year, under the instruction of her tutor, it was her masterpiece and her joy. She had dedicated the main table of her study to it; pinning the paper carefully to the edges of the table and making sure nobody and nothing remotely harmful came close to it.
Until now.
Now Myu, her cat, had infiltrated the study and flung a pot of black ink over it with a swish of his tail. What made it worse was that the event unfolded right in front of Lielle's eyes. Had she come upon the disaster


Other Pieces: 

Family mends where friends endI have always wanted a friend whose mind works the way mine does. It does not have anything to do with comparison; I do not mean to say that I am an intellectual Everest surrounded by molehills, that nobody “measures up to me”. It is just that the way different radio stations are on different frequencies, I wanted someone on my frequency.
My frequency matched others’ in the manner of a Venn diagram (in which each component is represented by a circle, and the places where the circles overlap stand for the qualities shared by the overlapping elements). I “fit in” with many different people, but nobody fitted me.
In school, I used to keep raising my hand until the teacher told me to let somebody else answer. I still remember the time in eighth grade when the teacher asked what whales were hunted for, and I answered “blubber”. A classmate blasted me with a wide-eyed look of incredulity that I have not forgotten to this day. I was the only one in th
On a brownie highI have a sweet tooth, a chocolate tooth and a filled tooth. The latter is a result of the former. In order to keep the filling in its proper place and not yank it out mid-chew, I avoid chewing sticky foods on that side. That means taking a bite of the chocolate, transferring it all to the side which is yet unmolested by the siege of sweetness, and chomping it one-sidedly to slush. My jaw does not like this arrangement. It protests. I insist that I’ve received the “overload” memo. It puts up banners and waves flags. It sends a whole “too much strain on this end” message through flag-waving signals. Finally, I give in. I cut back on the chocolate input through chocolate bars and look for substitutes instead. Chocolate mousse. Chocolate cake. Chocolate ice cream. Chocolate choco latte. You get the idea.
It is every chocoholic’s dream to find something that is rich but not overwhelmingly so. I discovered my something the day I started experimenting with
ConquestIt was a sheer drop, fifty feet at least. He did not go easily; he had to be
dragged by the shirt collar, kicking and squealing, with a cuff and a curse
added for good measure. The bottom of the gorge was deep and dark, with
no way out save to scale the vertical walls.
He didn’t like the dark.
“I want some light around here!” he called. His voice was needle-thin. It
barely penetrated the thick, stifling air. The echoes laughed, and there was
no light.
“Light!” he repeated, beginning to grow a trifle annoyed, “I asked for light!”
“Asked?” said a voice.
“Yes, asked,” he repeated angrily.
“Asked?”
“You heard the first time! I asked!”
“You didn’t ask.”
This was an unforeseen obstacle. He tried to peer through the darkness, as
though to cleave it with his very gaze.
“I asked,” he ventured eventually; in what he thought was a winning tone.
“You didn’t ask,


Flip that shoe before I flip my shoe at youAn upturned shoe invites a medley of reactions.
"Turn it over!"
"Be quick about it!"
"The shoe!"
Or just plain calling you over and pointing towards the offending object.
That's because in desi-land--that's Pakistan and India to you folks--an upside down shoe is supposed to be disrespectful to God. I don't know how this superstition originated--but each and every Pakistani elder has this thinking firmly inscribed in stone in their minds: flip the shoe before I flip my shoe at you.
I usually comply when elders tell me to turn upside down shoes. Not because I think it makes much difference to God, but because I think it shows respect to my elders.
Will I tell my children to put their shoes upright, that is the question. The truth is, upside down shoes look untidy. While I might not have the same ingrained response to an overturned shoe as my elders, I will probably still ask others to turn them over. And turn them over myself. I suppose it's plain old cultural programming.
While two shoe
Call it autumn or fall, you should have a ballMy father's Skype status is "fall season has finally arrived". It was something he put up more than a year ago--all year round, it was irrelevant, until autumn came back again and lo and behold, the status had meaning again.
I found other meaning in that status, too. My father is in his fifties, my mother is in her forties. I can safely say that they count as "middle aged"; they are in the autumn of their lives. They are the last generation to grow up without a cell phone. They can no longer party as hard as they used to. Naptime is sacred and inviolable. The quirks of a settled and routine life characterise their existence.
They are also in the autumn of their marriage: in the spring they wed, in the summer they planted and raised, and now in the autumn it is time to reap what they sowed all those years ago. I am talking, of course, about raising children. My brother and me. Both of us are adults in our early twenties now.
They say sixty (or is it fifty?) is the youth of old age. The
Unsuccessful shoppingI do not know how they talked me into it. Let me think. Oh, yeah. It was dear old mom, proclaiming her wish to visit the mall before being put to eternal slumber. It was Zoha, too, claiming proof of my undying love. Does filial duty and holy matrimony depend on becoming the family driver? That’s what it seems nowadays. Life is not fair.
I’d regret it, I knew. But I did it. If driving four miles in the rush hour to the nearest shopping centre with incessant female chatter boring into one’s ears is not proof of filial and marital loyalty, I don’t know what is.
To begin with, they wanted shoes. I steered them to the nearest outlet and spent half an hour watching them pull every footwear within reach off the shelves. It was Cinderella redone, minus the prince. The prince was off-duty, observing from a safe distance. After thirty minutes’ worth of bargain-hunting, they decided that that store was not for them. Enough to satisfy the common populace, but not for


Life ManagementDear Human,
This is to inform you that life as you know it has been binned. There were a lot of complaints regarding life as it had been, so it was decided that a new system be adopted, which will hopefully be pleasing to everyone. As of now, life is an RPG. There is no need to worry; this letter outlines everything you need to know.
First things first. You will not age! That does away with the whole search for everlasting youth thing. No need to bother scientists with genetic research and the like. Convenient, huh? Instead, you will gain experience points as you defeat monsters on the field, which will allow you to move up from level to level and become stronger. This will allow you to be able to kill stronger beasties and become even stronger, until you hit the roof, level 99, at which nothing will pose a challenge to you anymore. At this level, you can either choose to revisit old areas and watch adversaries shrivel up at your mere presence, or you can head towards one of the crazy-
 :heart:

  • Listening to: The Hound (Of Blood and Rank): Coheed and Cambria
  • Watching: Property Brothers
  • Playing: Diablo III
  • Eating: Avocado Salad
  • Drinking: Tea

Feature! Part 1

Journal Entry: Mon Nov 17, 2014, 11:39 AM
So, I put on a contest a bit ago for my group :iconthewritersmeow: and after some difficult decisions, we finally were able to choose our winners. As promised, here is the first part of the 3 part feature for the winners!

1st Place:

Celesol

Winning Piece:

Brimstone SoldiersBrimstone Soldiers
By Cassidy Lorraine
When I was little, all my mother used to talk about were her Brimstone Soldiers.
  They sounded fierce, terrifying – I imagine them as residents of hell – with their metal teeth that make a battlefield cacophony when crunched together, or the fiery eyes that burned into your vision the same way sunlight would.
  Those were my mother’s words, but no matter the horror stories and harsh descriptions she would give of them - even when she explained the way their mouths could crush bone – she always spoke fondly of them. A twisted type of maternal sweetness that said ‘no matter what they've done, my children aren't monsters.’
 This bothered me; in the last twenty-seven years, from the moment I was born, my mother has never spoken that way about me.
  I suppose I got used to it over time, but I would be lying if I said there wasn't jealousy some days – some days I just wanted


Other Pieces:

RedThe greatest red I've ever seen
was the color reflected in your eyes
as the light jumped off the gun shot wound
and you bled until you died.
A Walk around the Writer's BlockIt's not the street I usually go down, but for some reason, that day I turned down a different road.
The twisted black shadows of trees played like lattice work on the cobblestone floor. I didn’t bother looking back to see the other path; I was all too familiar with it already.
Besides, it lead to a house full of blank white pages and crumpled quill pens.
I didn’t want to deal with that right now. The whiteness reminded me of a gleaming teeth, faintly yellowed, juxtaposed next to black ink.
The ink were hollow, staring eye sockets, I imagined.
I shuddered at the thought.
The shadows playing on the ground suddenly struck me similar to a rib cage, but what did the coiling black bones protect?
A twinkling laugh, like the sparkling of stars made my vision rise from the ground. A lovely woman, dressed in a cream colored frock waved her greeting to me.
I felt myself turn rosy and gave her my greetings. She went on her way, doing her best not to laugh.
I couldn’t blame her.
On The Other HandOn one hand, it was the only way to survive – on the other hand; could she really live with herself?
When the children were placed before Masozi, who was shaking like a leaf, they were told not to cry. They held somber faces – they knew the sacrifice they were making – and they shed no tears for the life this woman was going to take.
They told her, “thank you, Masozi, don’t cry for us, please.”
Masozi was not nearly as composed; she wept, quaked, vomited and cursed. She tore at her hair and yelled for death to come and take her.
“No, no, my lady,” said the children, “your name is Masozi; not for the tears you shed, but for those flowing from your enemy when they see you coming.”
So she stood, raised her sword, and, keeping her eyes shut tight, she swung with all her might. She stayed to see the two children be buried – and she lauded their families for the sacrifice and nobility – before she went out, alone, to fac

The Summer SolsticeThe young boy kept up a determined canter through the melted and re-frozen sheet of ice on the ground.
 He was wrapped to the nines in coats and scarves, and had a hard enough time moving, but to add to this, he clutched quite desperately a precious bundle filled with slightly lumpy carrots, potatoes, and bad smelling cabbage – it didn't seem like much, but thanks to the tough ground and bitter cold, it was the best the ground would yield.
 But the boy – Shay was his name – was not excited about the food in his arms, nor about the banquet his granny was planning to make from it.
 He was excited about the Summer Solstice that the banquet was honoring. It was happening this very day, though the stubborn hoarfrost clinging to the leaves very much wished to debate this fact.
 It was a festival honoring the coming of Summer, meant to dispel the harsh frost and freezing weather; making way for the brilliant warm days to come.
 Only, the thing was, y
The Doll MakerThe Doll Maker
It was all dark here. Like a swirling vortex of starless sky. My trembling hands clawed my way toward what I hoped was the surface.
My mind was swirling with thoughts and feelings, but there were no language in my head that I could use to put words to these emotions. Everything was just pictures and feelings - nerves and optics.
When I finally broke my way through the surface of the ink-black liquid, my day-old eyes didn't know what to do. I blinked and gasped, and blinked some more.
I hurt all over, but not because of pain, more because of the absence of pleasantry that I had been used to from my lovely ‘egg’ – what I could now see was a wooden, barrel-like object that was covered in sticky blackness thanks to my graceless exit.
“Three-zee.” A voice like a rumbling volcano filled my ears.
A living being - a wonderful being - dressed all in fine purples and earth tones showed itself to me.
It was a man. My father, to
Midnight Pukka ride
I hear the sound
that jangles round
the metallic click of chain
the whinnies cut through
the night time gloom
and enter straight into my brain
so despairing
my heart was caring
Afraid? Not I in the least.
So my friends and I
decided to try
to free the melancholic beast
we found it there
a pitch black mare
caught up in chains and vines
a ruby red stare
no saddle, all bare
I decided to make it mine
I jumped astride
ready for a ride
That’s when my friends all screamed
“Oh, good grief,
What pointy teeth!”
It was true- and oh, how they gleamed
I tried to escape
But found I was too late
The chains held fast to me
The horse made off
With me still aloft
Galloping someplace I could not see
For hours we rode
Until the sun glowed
Only then did the chains start to drop
Too tired to care
I slide off the mare
And hit the ground with a plop
“Thanks for the fun,
O sleepy one.”
Red eyes stared into mine.
“Next time you want a Púkka ride,
you know who you can f


The Banshee's CallMy master waning
By Bloody veining
Caused by red tears of the heart
My lady there
Pale and bare
On this day she did depart
We were seeing
His lonely being
Ignore us and face his fate
A woman calling
Like caterwauling
Passing through the midnight gate
The way she sings
Like a violin's strings
Parted the speechless crowd
It was his reckoning
She was beckoning
Head held regal and proud
So on this day
There was no way
We could deny the sight we see
My master bleeding
The lady leading
For no one defies the Banshee
Clashing Kinsmen by CelesolWill O' Whispers by Celesol

:dalove:

CSS by CherieNoir. Graphics by Tzolkin, HauntingVisionsStock and Lileya.
  • Listening to: The Hound (Of Blood and Rank): Coheed and Cambria
  • Watching: Property Brothers
  • Playing: Diablo III
  • Eating: Avocado Salad
  • Drinking: Tea

deviantID

Medoriko
Vic:The Butcher
Artist | Student | Literature
Canada






Interests

Donate

Medoriko has started a donation pool!
530 / 1,000
:iconthewritersmeow:
The Writers Meow has just been revamped along with our weekly prompts. Any donated points will go to point prizes for the winners of these weekly prompts. Anything is greatly appreciated <3

You must be logged in to donate.
  • :icondesenhogiro:
    desenhogiro
    Donated 1 week, 2 days ago
    2
  • Anonymous
    Anonymous Deviant
    Donated Nov 4, 2014, 10:44:44 PM
    200
  • :iconmcckaja:
    mcckaja
    Donated Jul 31, 2014, 12:52:08 AM
    1
  • :iconscarletwave:
    scarletwave
    Donated Jul 20, 2014, 4:10:40 PM
    200
  • :iconscarletwave:
    scarletwave
    Donated Jul 20, 2014, 4:06:18 PM
    100
  • :iconshedares:
    SheDares
    Donated Jun 27, 2014, 7:45:44 AM
    20
  • :iconwippmaster:
    wippmaster
    Donated Jun 17, 2014, 2:01:26 PM
    2
  • Anonymous
    Anonymous Deviant
    Donated Jun 15, 2014, 11:02:00 PM
    5

Friends

One Among the Fence











Visitors

:iconkelcobi:
Kelcobi
Nov 21, 2014
9:21 pm
:icondahub:
dAhub
Nov 21, 2014
5:10 am
:iconjchrispole:
Jchrispole
Nov 20, 2014
7:32 pm
:iconcharliehalo:
charliehalo
Nov 20, 2014
6:07 pm
:iconluminescentteardrops:
LuminescentTeardrops
Nov 20, 2014
10:52 am

Comments


Add a Comment:
 
:iconkelcobi:
Kelcobi Featured By Owner 1 day ago  Hobbyist General Artist
Hi!

Panda Emoji-28 (Hello Hi) [V2] 
Reply
:iconjchrispole:
Jchrispole Featured By Owner 1 day ago
Hey, I finished that prompt you gave me! Check it out;

jchrispole.deviantart.com/art/… >
Reply
:iconscarlettletters:
Scarlettletters Featured By Owner Nov 9, 2014  Professional Writer
Many thanks for faving my work. I appreciate it.
Reply
:iconmedoriko:
Medoriko Featured By Owner Nov 9, 2014  Student Writer
Of course :)
Reply
:iconmeowclopspurrcat:
meowclopspurrcat Featured By Owner Oct 17, 2014  Student General Artist
Thank you for the favorite! =)
Reply
:iconjade-pandora:
jade-pandora Featured By Owner Oct 17, 2014
Hey congratulations, from one awesomeness to another! :iconspinplz:
Reply
:iconmedoriko:
Medoriko Featured By Owner Oct 17, 2014  Student Writer
:highfive: <3
Reply
:icontwilightpoetess:
TwilightPoetess Featured By Owner Oct 16, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
We all know you're wonderful, but in case you've forgotten for a moment, here's a reminder.

YOU DID SOMETHING AWESOME TODAY!

:squee:  :iconheartglompplz:  :party:  :clap:  :party:  :iconheartglompplz:  :squee:

To see what nice thing you've been accused of doing (and who else is being recognized), find the widget by the same name on my profile page!

Helpful hint:  It's near the bottom, above my webcam image!

Have a wonderful rest of your day!
Reply
:iconmedoriko:
Medoriko Featured By Owner Oct 17, 2014  Student Writer
Oh my goodness, thank you :love: I don't know what I did to deserve such an honor but waaaaaaaah :eager: Thank you dear :love:
Reply
:icontwilightpoetess:
TwilightPoetess Featured By Owner Oct 17, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
You're so very welcome, sweetheart! Keep being awesome!
Reply
Add a Comment: