|DDs that I have had the pleasure of featuring as a Community Volunteer.|
The Beard of intrigueHis beard was fascinating.The Beard of intrigue by Beccalicious
It was a loom, woven with intricate detail and so long it would put any wizard to shame. Each pattern in the coarse mound of hair seemed to share a secret. Perhaps they were memories- I’d heard others collect memories in such ways- etchings on their bodies, collecting objects and even journal writing. Maybe this man was his own journal.
The rest of him seemed positively ordinary. He rested in his chair in a blue business suit- albeit a little outdated for fashion, but suited the character I had begun to form in my head for him. His sorrowful eyes narrowed on a frustrated brow of greying features, illuminating a sense of tiredness. Perhaps the beard in all its might was weighting down. His skin was as rough as sandpaper, blotches and scars etching his hands and face with no revelation to the puzzle of his beard.
I wanted to move closer, debating whether it was rude to ask. The very notion excited me as I built up theories as to why his beard had the
Shopping and Wizards.A thousand bagsShopping and Wizards. by Beccalicious
shuffle down the high street between
clasped hands, scrunched with new purchase.
They’re buggy-dodging the determined mothers,
the rushed businessmen-- a pinball
machine shopping centre.
A green-robed man, tall with wand and hood
must be a wizard. He’s happily
procuring sushi and sparkling water
whilst his companion;
short with her piercings and jeans treats him
as if he wore the same.
Down the high street,
two track-suited parents
zoom past on their children’s scooters—
half-smoked fags between fingers yell
how fucking amazing this is.
spotted teen raps
his love for Jesus on a muffled
He raps for the Father,
He raps for the Son
and Holy Spirit.
He raps for peace, for hope, for you.
In a corner,
Brown eyes, hefty tears,
a snot-ridden face--
four years old.
A train runs through the mall toot-tooting
as grumpy shoppers move out of the way.
Napo 8- SusanWhy did you lock her out of heavenNapo 8- Susan by Beccalicious
and throw the key
into the lions land?
A beautiful girl enjoying
a new fantasy to live.
She'd stopped believing, but
faith stays in a heart longer
than a head.
"She wasted all her school time wanting to be the age she is now,
and she'll waste all the rest of her life trying to stay that age"
Napo 7- Teen of the 90'sI wanted to be Posh Spice because myNapo 7- Teen of the 90's by Beccalicious
hair was brown bobbed and she dated David
Beckham; I wanted to marry him. I
had no internet and recorded songs
on the radio to tape, daring to
pause and knock out the DJ’s droll. I sang
to S Club and thought I was the coolest
in my smiley faced top and my yingyang
friendship necklaces. You had to know the
Macarena not just for weddings but
school discos too and then every steps routine
to fit in. Slow dances with boys made me
wish again that they were David Beckham
and not greasy teens with bad curtains for
hair. They pressed themselves against you before
travelling to the next girl in leopard
print skirt. Viva forever was merely
a fantasy ; one I’d dream the whole of
the nineties, hoping my teenage self could
find her inner strength, her true girl power.
The Ladies of Lit: Volume XXIIIWelcome to volume twenty-three my Literature series, The Ladies of Lit!The Ladies of Lit: Volume XXIII by LadyLincoln
The premise here is simple. Below you will find an assortment of Literature features from a selection of female deviants here on DeviantART, all of them suggested by you. In this article, you will also find a variety of other things of interest, including:
This article’s deviant spotlight: featuring the sweet TheSkaBoss. She has offered to answer a few questions as well, to tell us a bit about what inspires her writing and which piece in particular she favors.
Additional information about our upcoming events, including a special critique Q and A session in our official TheLadiesofLit chatroom. And we also have a selection of other interesting Literature news links to share with you.
Our “meet our contributors” section. Be sure to
Prosewriter? Paris Literary Prize - 10000 EurosDid that get your attention, you greedy prosemonkey you?Prosewriter? Paris Literary Prize - 10000 Euros by darkcrescendo
I thought it might.
I have helpfully copied verbatim from today's version of the webpage.
You may direct thanks, love, abject worship, and either Bushmills Whiskey (Green label. Cheers, squire) or Finlandia Vodka my way.
I recommend you go there directly, though, in case any details alter in the lead-up to September: https://www.parisliteraryprize.org/index.htm
But without further ado, in HYPERLITERARY ITALICS, the DETAILS!
About The Prize
The Paris Literary Prize is an international novella competition for unpublished writers. Any topic is welcome.
Shakespeare and Company has a long-standing tradition of opening its doors to aspiring writers and in keeping with that philosophy, the 10,000 Paris Literary Prize is open to writers from around the world who have not yet published a book.
We have long been admirers of the novella, a genre which includes such classics as The Old Man and the
Submerged in Swan LakeSubmerged in Swan Lake by OfOneSoul
Swans and wings are floating by
on a breeze imbued with jasmine and
willows outstretching their arms in welcome.
Through deep breaths he arrives
plunged in murky, pungent water.
A quiet whisper, and he prays -
"Please... may I linger here?"
Willows lower their arms
and jasmine falls to the Earth
where the wind dies and finally rests.
The crows are cawing hymns,
begging to be swans.
But only the duck submerged in Swan Lake
has delved the desired shore.
Its waters dangerous and plagued
by monsters baring their teeth;
most ghastly and putrid they are
that no crow may ripple its surface
nor any songbird seeking beauty fair.
The Swan Maidens bare their chests
and open their wings in veneration -
for the duck has sought beauty through courage
and earned his guise of grace and virtue.
i) Wanderlusti),i) Wanderlust by whatpumpkins
The first time I met the girl who started a revolution the sky was throwing down so much rain it felt like we were underwater. It was hard to breathe; and maybe that was because of all the rain, but probably it was because I looked at her face, under this dark red hood, and inside I was a story with all these feelings I could never say. I guess those feelings could only ever become words on paper - words in ink - not the kind I could ever speak aloud to anybody, if only because I couldn't bear for a person to see the look on my face while I remembered. Despite how good it felt - so hopeful, so desperately happy for what it was and could become - at the same time it was drowning in this sea, like the sky that day, for the way that everything else wasn't. And I said, what's your name?
At first we called her August when I brought her back to Jack's flat, which his parents paid for mostly, and which we used for getting high, mostly. She curled up in the armchair and rarely left it from
The IdolI once saw a man on the television who was so afraid of fruits that when presented with a bowl of them, he fled the stage, knocking over the host and several other guests. Though I openly pitied the man for his obvious malady of the mind, inside, the small bit of sadism buried within all humans laughed at his bizarre affliction. How can one not find cruel amusement in the cowering of a grown man who has been confronted by nothing more than a bowl of peaches? But now I understand fear like no other. I now no longer find amusement in the terror of others, no matter how illogical.The Idol by PlagueJester
Now, let me tell you the story of why the sound of wind whistling through the trees in Autumn strikes me with a fear so immense that I can do little more than shake uncontrollably.
A good friend of mine, a young and upcoming anthropologist by the name of Henry Byrne, contacted me eight weeks ago. Though he refused to go into details, he excitedly explained t
PressureSomething broke.Pressure by neonxaos
A hard CRACK while sitting in
a soft chair. No pain registered.
The absence of it
is like watching explosions in space.
You follow the curve of your skull. You remember
how skulls are formed like tectonic plates.
Your head wants to be a planet,
volcanic, living, in change.
You continue to your left shoulder,
the one with all the problems.
But today, it has nothing to say.
Your rib cage moves
like oceanic waves, expecting a storm
that hasn't come.
You stand up,
you consider your legs,
nothing feels wrong,
But you can break
more than your body.
|DDs that I have had the pleasure of featuring as a Community Volunteer.|
Early April, Northern IllinoisThe snow is gone, winter's ugliness
Thunderflash, rains coming
A fat robin perches on a wire, not singing
just hanging on
A fat man sits on a wall
and talks loudly to himself
This purgatory between winter and spring
this unsettled soupy day
when the lights flicker
This is the way the sky dances its
This is the way the homeless man
calls to be taken home
Shitty coffee at the City Cafe
People with newspaper heads rushing by
as big drops fall
I close my eyes and see a world
of green to come
I don't know what or who
the fat man sees
awaken from this
you’ve become a servant to the ocean,
obeying its every command –
succumbing to its demanding beauty,
hypnotised by the tranquillity.
(rising and falling.)
(falling and rising.)
you fragile, broken thing,
a beautiful golden fool –
your frame filling with
bones stiffening, skin wrinkling
blood turning blue.
you’re visiting the ocean’s depths,
welcoming the cruel world below;
but those lungs of yours are burning,
and those soft eyes are questioning –
you ocean captive,
open your eyes
swim to the top –
and breathe the air,
| I am running 5k for Cancer Research UK on the 14th July 2013. |
This is my 5th year participating and this year I am teamed up with CurvyLemon!
Cancer sadly still affects for too many people, and the work Cancer Research does not only funds the science, it also supports more treatment centres, nurses and support for families.
Every Pound counts, even if you can just sponsor me just £2 I would appreciate it!
Click on the button to be taken to my page!
Together, we CAN beat cancer!
| Or just confused?|
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