|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 He rested in his chair in a blue business suit- albeit a little outdated for fashion, but suited the character I had begun to form in my head for him.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.
Poetry Feature #97Note to Self: Tequila is a Poor Replacement for Cooking Wine by ~ShadowedAcolytePoetry Feature #97 by TheFavoritesProject
I know why this isnt working, she said
in the matter-of-fact tone I had only just begun
to ignore completely.
Youre a sop...read more
Discovered by: roguequeen
Selected by: `ATrue, *AGMeade, `Abcat, `leoraigarath & ~mare-wrath.
The Favorites Project (FP) is an independent program run by dA members (not administrators). We are not a club so y
The LOL Corner [One Year Special Edition]The LOL Corner [One Year Special Edition] by Tachy-on
One Year of LOL Corners
This LOL Corner will mark 52 editions that have been posted (roughly one per week) and I never thought I'd still be posting these 1 year later.
Since this is a special edition, I've included a special section to give thanks for all the support the LOL Corner has received. In addition to the new LOL Quotes, please LOL at the Best of the Best...
dAmnIt! is a database of funny quotes submitted by deviants like you.
dAmnIt! has reached over 14,000 quotes!
When something funny happens in a chatroom, share it with everyone! It only takes a few clicks, and while you're there browse through all the other hilarious quotes!
Feel free to note me with suggested dAmnIt! quotes to go into the next edition.
Last 10 Editions:
LongingI want the Renaissance of LoveLonging by PoetsHand
the Age of Aquarius promised us.
I want to understand humanity
and ask you to take my hand when needed.
I want your hand
when I may desire the same.
I want prejudice to die
on the Altar of Compassion
while we walk arm-in-arm
without inhibition or shame,
a Love-In of not just tolerance,
but real acceptance.
My deepest desire is the reawakening
I want to end my vanity
to see what really matters.
I want a mature mind
with a young outlook.
I want to awaken refreshed each day,
and rest reassured each night.
I want to find myself by looking inward
rather than search the world in vain.
I want to accept responsibility and blame
if that’s what it takes to live honestly.
I want a revival of Love
we have all awaited for so long.
I want justice
for its own sake.
I want elections that give
a choice of politicians who will
“reach across the isle,”
instead of ridicule and polarize.
I want America to find its backbone
to stand against brutality
here's what i think.I was a better person when I wrote.here's what i think. by urban-lingo
I was a better person when I wrote about boys who'd never return my feelings on silver platters, and ships long lost, or drowned, at sea. It sounds like a disaster, but I only write well with the ashes of a crumpled, discarded spirit mixed with the still-warm tears of a troubled soul.
Words kept me human, for they are what makes us human, and they distanced me from the animal I could become. All I do now is stalk around the concrete city, pace about my enclosure, and think about how my bitterness and I can never be released in the wilderness again.
Before the city stole my words away, I was living in the harbor locked up in a crumbling lighthouse, hoping that some northeasterly wind would blow him back to me. I still yearn, but the sea-stained melody gets lost in the traffic and it's easier to be whole without it haunting my every second.
But, the truth is, I'm burning for more.
I'm not whole without part of him missing, and if I'm filling up the
An Exercise in ExistingFrom a shore, you watch.An Exercise in Existing by mondays-emblem
Eyes dripping, contributing to an ocean as wide as space
and as deep as time.
There must be another side, another edge of this vast bowl.
And there is.
Some days you think you can see it, a haze on the far horizon,
like heat on a sidewalk or the hood of a car. You tilt your head,
eyes slit, watching the wavering lines like dancing brush strokes.
Other days, hazy days, there’s nothing more than the clouds
seeping into the water. One long swoop of grey blue green.
And on those days, with salted air sweeping across your face,
hair tangling like serpents, you can breathe again. Lungs ticking
back to life like a furnace turning on. One long rumble.
You stand there, then, taking in cold air and pushing out all
toxicity. Just an exercise in existing.
From a shore, you watch.
Your feet sinking into sand and your fingers subtly moving, glancing
across seams like a gust of air.
There is a crunch of sand in your teeth, born from every swallowed
sound. You’re a
Divination as a Means of Finding a Way Back 1. I say nothing I am thinking.Divination as a Means of Finding a Way Back by AzizrianDaoXrak
For twelve years I have wanted
to do exactly this, but suddenly
pronouncing my own name calls up
the question of who it belongs to
in the same breath Like
Solomon I was born a singer
but in the wrong key and my
chords will not carry me, will not
summon the wolves to me only
packs of hungry dogs
stupid with domestication
but nearly feral And like
a hungry ghost I have learned
not to speak against those
who will give me food
2. A sketch of myself.
He says I must have been born
in the wrong culture, he says. I got a taste of
the crackling heat here, heat to drive you crazy,
and suddenly I open my wide arms for
New Orleans, find myself needing the wind from
the Great Plains. Like a buffalo I have the spirit
of the Sun and I carry it with me. I am a plant
of burnt umber,
brown, ready and waiting like
sage bushes, like the hill you go to that is best
for collecting jun
FoxholeDearest Ella.Foxhole by blubbityblub
Excuse my handwriting, for I am in an uncomfortable position as I write this. Please take the time to decipher what I have penned down because it is of the utmost importance. You see, Ella, I am cowering in a foxhole. Every few seconds, a shell will land and spray me with dirt and shrapnel. I cannot hear anything but the earth-shaking thunder of explosions, and I cannot see anything because my head is pressed close to the dirt, for fear that a stray chunk of rock or mud will take out my eye. I am waiting to die, you see, just like everyone else in this God-forsaken country. Waiting for that mortar round with my name on it to whistle down from the sky, fall into my little trench and blow me to kingdom come. There is nothing to do, but wait. Wait for that shell.
I wish I could tell you I am brave. I wish I could tell you I am fighting for my country. But I am not. I am not a savior, or a liberator, or a symbol of freedom. To the people of this country, I am the represent
|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!
Following our previous journal on our zombifiction revival, I am pleased to say it is crazy enough to have a go! I don’t expect every one of our 1500 members to get involved, but even if there is a handful each time getting some good out of this, then that’s one handful getting a better attack on their writing and understanding their niches. These groups hold a great opportunity to explore and stretch even the more experienced writers, and I believe that’s what made this group so good to begin with.
So here is my plan.
In May, we will hold a new workshop. The entire workshop will be encapsulated in one month: 2 weeks to write, 2 weeks to workshop.
Week 1, Day 1: Workshop brief is launched and you have 2 weeks to submit. The standard to what you submit can be anything from a rough draft to something you have worked on, it doesn't even have to be complete yet. (Please ensure you put it in stash or scraps if it is a WIP)
Week 3, day 1: Submissions are posted for critique and review
Week 4, end: At the end of the week, Workshop host to summarise results, pick a few pieces that stand out
End: We all celebrate with a glass or three.
The intention would be to have these run from the first Saturday of each month.
All sorts. The idea is to vary what we do; covering different forms and styles and concepts. We want to look at habits and behaviours; things you don’t always consider as a writer first off. We also may use real examples, such as submission briefs in zines or contests going off elsewhere (maybe even some dA contests you can genuinely enter). We want to stretch you!
Urgh, critique. That thing we all want but rarely give ourselves. Critique isn't free; you can’t just throw up a deviation, go have a cup of tea and watch the responses come in. You have to work for it. There are PLENTY of opportunities to ask for critique including: Chat events, Critique groups, Critique forum thread, Helpful people who offer it in journals (networking!), asking people who you think would help you (and ask nicely!). We would expect anyone who submits in a workshop to actually participate in giving feedback to others in the workshop- that’s kind of the point. Plus it is AMAZING how much you can learn about your own work by looking at someone else’s- so it is ideally a win-win situation! /end rant
In this workshop environment, we do ask if people are participating, they at least offer feedback to one other piece in the group. If there needs to be an incentive to encourage this, thoughts are welcome.
| Or just confused?|
If you are new to the Literature community or don't know where to start to get involved, then adding CRLiterature to your watch is a good start! The group is the central cub for the literature community relations team, and we encourage community interaction!
CRLiterature chat room
Lit Community Volunteers