|Works that I've featured as Daily Deviations, both as a volunteer and staff member.|
SunburstEight in the morning and my shaved headSunburst by wreckling
burns tan with summer, eighty-five degrees
of heat and separation, and the air
conditioner has conditioned me to roll
the windows down
my hand against my sweat-drenched forehead
and my eyes at the cars around me.
Perspective tells me I should be glad the car works.
The migraine tells me I should murder everyone.
Pigeons on a nearby traffic sign are playing
their usual game of "which car is best
to crap on, and how long will that crap sizzle
before it dries", and I'd feel bad for that Lexus
under them if he hadn't cut me off two miles back.
The pigeons hav
A New CatOur neighborhood stray is dead. I know thisA New Cat by wreckling
because there is a black cat here I've never seen.
This cat is not the black splotch covered canvas stray
that clawed up and down my arm last winter
when I mistakenly tried to wrap it in a blanket
for warmth. This cat does not have the matted
fur that the stray did, does not deliberately stretch
out in front of my car tires the way the stray did
right before I had to leave for work, does not
chase lizards in the grass like the stray. This is not
the stray that aggressively meowed at me
when he wanted affection, nor is it the stray
that climbed our fence to try catching birds.
I'm certain this new cat must be lost, or else
looking for that same blotched canvas stray
that had become part of his family, too.
Lightbringer“We’ve got about half an hour until daybreak. The light panel is up and running, so you can begin, lightbringer!”Lightbringer by wreckling
Kenta closed his eyes to the stars and breathed in through his nose before exhaling sharply out of his mouth. His hands were trembling. When he breathed in next, the stars came with it, pinpricks of light jumping to his fingers, toes, arms, legs, and even his face and hair. Every part of his body seemed to be engulfed in blue light, except his closed eyes. Once the light had gathered, he exhaled through his mouth once again, and the light throughout his body shifted to his left arm until it was contained between his fingertips and his elbow. When he opened his eyes, the sky was only slightly darker than it had been. He did not look at his left arm.
Turning away from the stars, he faced a small white pedestal that came up to his waist. On the top of the pedestal was a small black panel, and he placed his left hand on it, closing his eyes and breathing ou
BarristerHe'd been in town three weeks, on the case for two, and still only had a single lead. No one in Los Diablos was talking, outside of formalities. He was an outsider, and he knew they considered him as such, but for as much frustration as the town was causing him by not talking, there was one person in the town causing him even more trouble, the one he needed to meet, the one he couldn't even seem to find.Barrister by wreckling
Franky Barrister never answered his door. Franky Barrister didn't have a phone. Franky Barrister always seemed to be on a bathroom break during school hours, but was never in the bathroom. On Fridays, Franky Barrister wasn't at school at all. The trouble was that the investigation the detective was working on was regarding the death of Alan BarristerFranky's father. Everyone in town pointed the finger at Franky, and with his constant absence, the detective could see why. Franky was not doing anything at all to prove himself innocent, and if not for a complete lack of evidence, th
Torumaru and the Bullies Somewhere outside the window, the ocean rushed along the coast, waves breaking as fishing boats cut between them, creating new crests on the water in the push to reach the fish. Seafoam scattered in the air, a flash of white among the marine layer, before dissolving in the in between, not quite water, not quite sky. On the other side of the window, in a small room of a small home in Urayasu, Torumaru rolled over and fell out of his bed. Stunned into awareness, he stood up and jerked his head about, blearily taking in his room. His gray eyes rested on his own reflection, and he noticed his black hair hanging in a mess just above his eyebrows as he tried to make sense of the gold tint his face seemed to have. He squinted and frowned until he registered his own name; the wall he stared at held a small, engraved golden plaque which read: “Congratulations to the new Judo Club Captain, Torumaru Kamimura”. On reading tTorumaru and the Bullies by wreckling
AdamI, first feeling this sunken heat, firstAdam by wreckling
scraping this grain desert, first
sitting under verdant walls, I
first touching these rooted crags, first
tripping in the mountain's gloam, first
reaching this brackish fountain, I
first holding the ocean, first
drinking its salt poison, first
sinking to my knees, I
first trying to understand, I
first trying to speak
Rock Meautumn blunders in, clumsyRock Me by SugarHeartedGirl
stiff fingers frosted still
by early winds, rocking trees
back and forth
red leaves splatter the ground
paint drops, hanging from drooping
branches, rotten fruit still litters the sidewalks
i head south for the fall with the ducks.
the train creaks like aching joints
there's a crow on
my windowsill, ruffling his feathers
the trees flash by
my ticket's got a hole in the middle
from being folded over and over
the crow says "summer ain't that great, Peach Girl."
i watch the sky and ignore his clicking black beak
"the autumn's gonna follow
right behind ya
'n turn the whole world red-yellow-red
at yer heels."
i know in a week
the only green left will be my sweater
holes in the elbows, stringy cuffs
but i waddle like a duck
towards the leftover southern summer.
"i'm not ready for jack frost yet."
i tell him.
"get ready. the autumn storms are a-comin'
an' there ain't nothin' on heaven or earth to stop 'em."
Poetry Self-Edit ChecklistPoetry Self-Edit Checklist by Mahi-Fish
Poetry Self-Edit Quick Start Guide and Checklist
The idea behind this is to give newer poets a way to better edit their poetry themselves, without having to rely as much on an external editor. It can be frustrating, especially for new poets to request feedback from a friend, or worse, to post a poem, and have all of the responses be about grammatical errors and other details. We write poetry to convey ideas and emotions, and when something is off technically about the poem it distracts the reader. When a reader is distracted enough to notice an error or other problem it means they might spend the time they might otherwise have spent glowing about your poem to post a comment correcting you instead.
After this introduction is over the checklist will be as brief as possible while retaining its utility. The idea is to serve as an organizational tool and a reminder rather than to educate on effective
The Farmers SonWe sat sipping grappa as the storm clouds rolled in from the ridgesThe Farmers Son by brassteeth
like the smoke from some great unseen inferno,
the wood walls and shingles of the house complained to us
in low groans,
of the wind coming up hard, through the valley,
and there was flickering light from a candle,
and she told me how light from a prism dissects into different colours that correspond
in some way to our bodies and that all of life was a rhythm
and I believed that part,
and I believed there were stars beyond the sight of man on any grey day
and that they might hold some greater secret than prisms or rhythms
or any question a farmers son could ever mutter,
and the wind slowed to a stillness
and the rain moved in and our voices gave way
to what my Father would call The Lords Music,
the pitter-patter of water
on the dry and flaking earth.
Senryu Series 111.Senryu Series 11 by Laurence55
choosing the devil
her parents question
the kids unpack
another old knot
I add more spice
to the ramen
available on Itunes
job well done
from the boss...
from the army
the poor section
we let the youngest
On conversationsIOn conversations by rober2
have upset the order
of things, birds
fall fast and featherflappingly from
shaken skies, and leaves
curl backwards into trees
from frost in summer, my heart
is a bell that rings until
glass shatters and frost falls
fearful on the ground and I
just do not know how
to tell you.
An Apple for the TeacherHer name was Miss Mills. She was twenty-two years old and fresh out of college, and my son was a student in her first ever kindergarten class. He fell in love with her on the first day of school. He never told me this, of course, but a mother always knows. He came home that first day and he sparkled as he told me everything that had happened, how Miss Mills had read them a story from a brightly colored picture book and how he had hung on her every word.An Apple for the Teacher by Erlebnisse
"And I want to get her an apple," he announced.
"An apple?" I asked. I was peeling grapes for his lunch the next day.
"Yes," he said, "it was in the book we read today. The kids, they gave their teacher an apple, and I think it would be a nice thing to do."
"Alright," I said, "we will get some apples. Any kind of apple in particular?"
He thought about it. "A big red one."
The next morning he marched off to school with his big proud apple held delicat
SoftThe rain comes inSoft by saartha
from the mountainside
and the musculature
quietens. The birds, the beasts,
the slanting cliff,
the light, the restless
the bits of lava and bits
of heartbeat and bits of
racing animal mind.
The rain comes in like a slow blink.
The Trouble With HomonymsI suffered quite badly from Medical Student Syndrome in my first year of studying, to the point where I no longer trust myself to diagnose even the common cold when it comes to my own body. Not that it was ever the simple ones I thought I had - it never works that way. The rare ones, the ones that are hard to diagnose, the ones that have such few outward symptoms that they slip past professionals time and time again, those were the ones I obsessed over.The Trouble With Homonyms by TheSkaBoss
That was twenty years ago and I still don't trust myself to self-diagnose athough I'm sure I'd never make those mistakes again. I've devoted my career to those rare disorders that had me so hooked before and I've treated enough patients that I'm completely one-hundred percent confident in my ability to find the most seemingly insignificant symptoms of the rarest disorders and not be fooled ever again.
There is, however, one of those conditions from my student days that I've not yet had the good fortune of encountering in a patient. It's
Fold Overi.Fold Over by lasagnabomb
across the vaults estimated by every milky tone
the curious whirl in old friends gather a surface
wholly between each divide of behavioral light
cones bend to placate our amass combustion
until her legs uncrossed absolving my repetitive
nature to forget what conditions a truth has also
to submerge and share in upholding closely
the uniqueness of love we each must extinguish
estimated by every
cones bend to
our amass combustion
my repetitive nature to forget what
conditions a truth
has also to
against the uniqueness
we each must
extinguish our self
|Works that I've featured as Daily Deviations, both as a volunteer and staff member.|
February often signals the spark of new or lasting love, and this February was no different, marking the fourth annual Valentine’s Day Art Exchange! This year’s event was a grand success, with over 23,000 deviants sending over 130,000 valentines!
Not to be outdone by last year’s event, almost 10,000 artists created and submitted Valentine-themed deviations to the 2015 Valentine Exchange category, a nearly 50% increase from the number of artists who took part in 2014! We also saw deviants spread the love even more than in previous years, as over 65,000 deviants received a valentine.
We’re always happy to see positivity and good feelings within DeviantArt, and the Valentine Exchange certainly brought out the best of the community. Ranging from artwork that was cheerful and kind, to lovey-dovey, to outright funny, deviants took their creative talents and put them to use in clever, heartwarming ways.
Every year we see some Valentine deviations get sent at an impressively high rate. This year we saw five deviations in particular being sent around the globe numerous times. The top five most popular digital valentines from 2015 are:
We’d also like to give a shout-out to JutsuGal1208, who sent more valentines than any other deviant this year, with over 1,100 valentines sent to almost 1,000 deviants! Talk about really spreading the love!
As always, many thanks to everyone who took the time to spread love and cheer this February — whether you created or sent valentines, or even just cheered on the exchange. It’s because of your kindred spirit that we’re able to continue hosting events like these for the community, which in turn helps deviants build lasting relationships with one another. It’s the DeviantArt way of building connections around the globe, but it wouldn’t be possible without you.
Thank you once again for another fabulous Valentine’s Day, and we’ll hopefully see you here next February as well!
(Thiefoworld made that image up there, you should commission him if you'd like one!)|
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