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Deviation Actions

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Yes! Its time for another feature :dummy:

After having responded to a (cumulative) 200 feedback messages, reading around 500+ deviations, and glancing through 100+
journals and activities, I can honestly say I've seen a lot in this month.

or have I?



Nah, I'm just fooling around with y'all. :) Here's the feature list:

Journals, Features, and dA news/tutorials:

dA lovelies who don't get the love they deserve... and three pieces by each that you should check out.
Unseen-reality
   
individe
 
007-FleetingPassions
  
NostalgiaOfMud
  
jskullly

q-u-w
pool water is always cold by q-u-w fat by q-u-w w by q-u-w
:heart:
   
  Feature # 11Hello :wave: This feature is making its debut after a long time. I hope I am able to maintain this every week or at least every Month!
For a little introduction:
This feature takes 3 works each from works that I think and Impressive Literary Pieces and works that I consider exceptional literary pieces. This is all my personal opinion so of course one may not see what I do. However this is my feature so back off :police: Just kidding :la: No I am actually serious
From Impressive Literature
 by :iconatlantic-lungs:
:bulletgreen:This work has a feel to it that I cannot grasp. It is vague in a way, however, I love the expressions that are honest and well thought of. Yes, it is ambiguous to me but I still enjoy it!
  by :iconcinders8328:
:bulletgreen:This is an honest piece of literature from my dear friend (who has been off dA for long :tears:) which rhymes beautifully and has t
  transmit lit winners featureHello everyone how's the week? :heart:
on behalf of :iconinsecure-writers: here is a feature for the winners of "transmit lit" a contest created by setmyworldintomotion the promt was: write a poem to or about the world, or some aspect of it. alternatively, write a poem about a global concept. I hope you all will go reading the work of these amazing artists:
first place :iconbonfirelights: bonfirelights

second place :iconshehrozeameen: Chezzy-Am

third place :iconsaltwaterlungs: saltwaterlungs

                 :iconalwaysraincheck: AlwaysRainCheck
  dA GUIDE: HTML, TEXT, EMBED
Legend:
:bulletgreen: Codes with this green symbol can be used to: comments, deviation description, journal, user page widgets, dA forum.
:bulletyellow: Codes with this yellow symbol can be used to: deviation description, journal, user page widgets.
:bulletgreen: Bold Text:
<b> abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz </b>
<strong> abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz </strong>
:bulletgreen: Italic Text:
<i> abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz </i>
<em> abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz </em>
:bulletgreen: Underlined Text:
<u> abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz </u>
:bulletgreen: Strikethrough Text:
<s> abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz </s>
<strike> abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz </strike>
<del> abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz </del>
:bulletgreen: Small Text:
<small> abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz </small>
* This code doesn't work in
  HOWTO: Embed video in journal by bradleysays   Watcher Feature Round 3I just realised I a little late for my next watcher feature. So instead of the newest 56, you get the newest 59 :D
:icondepths-of-shadows:
:iconwhiteplumfragrance:
:iconaerode:
:iconshehrozeameen:
:iconchromeantennae:
:iconnickperriny7mai:
:iconfte378:
:iconankdros:
:iconxxtriforcedragonxx:
:iconalwaysraincheck:
:iconterratakaya: Mental Exam by PekaPi
:iconhrrt95:
:iconhomestucker42:
:iconxyrian:
:iconlunaintegrity:
:icongoddessofownage:
:iconvatsel: In his name by Vatsel
:iconviralremix:
:iconinfinitythrice: Star Dust on the Moon by InfinityTHRICE
:iconpolarbearman: Cut the rope by PolarbearMan
:iconhamasakimisui:
  Watcher Feature #16Because my Watchers kick ass.
:iconhelenpaige1:
helenpaige1

:iconsyrenmoon:
syrenmoon

:iconhamda-alrais:
Hamda-AlRais 

:icondasghul:
GawrilaGhul
   
:iconlamorth-the-seeker:
lamorth-the-seeker 
   
:iconangeldevil88:
Angeldevil88 

:iconthescorpionboy:
BaronAutumn

:icon19k93:
19K93

:iconforevermenou:
ForeverMenou

:iconlearningtobefree:
learningtobefree
Love dA Lit: Issue 161Welcome to the one-hundred sixty-first issue of Love dA Lit! :love: 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.
LITplease's Community Portal
:new:A Smattering of Lit News

Navigation
Literature Links | Workshops, Prompts and Challenges
Literature Contests | Resources | Open Admin Positions
 :thumb438676656:  :thumb438635964:   Maddy's Tips: Building a Strong PortfolioAfter receiving a few emails recently asking for portfolio feedback and general advice, I decided to write up a small list of tips that can help a student or graduate create a portfolio that game studios will want to look at (most specifically for Character Artists!)
Degree ≠ Job. A lot of studios don't look at a resume for where you went to school. The first thing they're interested in is the quality of work in your portfolio. If you have the skills, then you're more likely to get hired!
Do more than homework. Lots of college students get turned down by studios because they give them a portfolio that only has school work in it. Studios look for people that create more outside of class. It can range anywhere from fan art to designing your own characters.
Get online. Stay active on social media platforms like Twitter and game art forums like Polycount! Share your work and speak with other aspiring game artists and professionals as


Deviations:

:thumb428672226:   Veilwishing
for us to sleep
the grey waves
whisper gently
their dark lullabies
induce the nightmare
so beautifully
ordained by faith
as if we were lost phantoms
destined to remain secret
for all eternity
writhing
in antiquated anguish
and rising
to embrace
our skin
we become angelic
by consequence
a soft promise
that these last moments
will pass
without
a single sound
I am the scourge
within your veins
until the stars rain down
to mesh the love
and hatred
buried so far
beneath the ground
a forgotten witness
to our most sacred dream
ordained by faith
and painted
so perfectly
my soul is a monument
to the sea
  ..     . by Frozen-photo     mirror mirror iii by deepinswim   a quoi ca sert l'amourShe remembered that night better than he did. The way he was dressed, how he talked, what he ate, where he was staying—the ring on his finger, fresh from January, and it shined under the dim light, her warning sign to stay away; a warning sign she took seriously and knew well. She kept the thought vigilant in her mind with every fidgeted rub to her own naked ringfinger under the table, the ghost of the engagement then and the marriage that never was. Her boyfriend beside her should've been reason enough to resist the obvious magnetism and subsequent temptation, but she found herself captivated by this man of her French homeland, who listened to every word she said with a rapt attention her boyfriend would never match. He kept conversation going. He asked questions and listened to her babbling answers. He made her feel special in a way that the Hollywood gift baskets and showering of flashing lights and Al Pacino and Entertainment Tonight couldn't replicate. He was real. He made he   a modern opheliashe found fennel beneath her pillow,
and felt the familiar flutter
of glassfish between her ribs.
to distract herself, she
scattered the reddest petals
in her bathwater.
she braided poppies in her hair
and, gasping,
let regret invade her lungs.
 :thumb438610167:   FracturedThere was a girl in the middle of the road.
At first, Cowl hesitated. Sometimes on a long journey he knew his eyes couldn’t always be trusted. But, the moment he was sure he wasn’t seeing things, he slammed his hand down hard on the lever to sound the alarm horn of his vehicle.
The Arrow, she was called. He chose the name because it reminded him of a triangular-shaped piece of metal he’d found as a small boy. Of course, he didn’t get to keep it. But that discovery was his first contribution to the clan he’d been raised in. It reminded him of the feeling he’d had, belonging to a family. Belonging to a home.
The Arrow was his home now, and his proudest moment since he’d joined the travelers was the day he’d been voted the new point driver. His baby now led the makeshift procession of twelve “caravans”, though each was fully armoured against any attack and large enough to house upwards of fifty people at a push. Each vehicle was
 :thumb418464216:     the garden familymy father met my mother on the train tracks
leading out of Hackensack, New Jersey.
she was clad in blue and embossed with blisters;
he was wearing a black sweater and had a stumbling tongue.
the night they exchanged promises, the moon
was hiding under a cool blanket of factory smoke.
my mother wore a black n’ beige dress,
my father was decked in the finest leather shoes.
their love was a budless stem:
to appreciate it, you had to do some gardening.
the botany of our family is complicated.
i am a shovel and my brother is soil.
my mother is a watering hose and
my father sets with the sun. come winter,
she will freeze in time and we will
barely see him through the clouds.
the occasional drought will manifest into our lineage,
but my mother will burst like a floodgate.
sometimes, it'll get so cold that the crops will be frostbitten,
but my father will break the barrier of clouds.
i will help dig my brother out of messy situations
and we will be
just a plot of land on the map of our f
 :thumb433354756:   AtlasWeight of the world




Breathe in,
take my hand now
too much time
you walked
alone
on this route
visible only
to angelic, 
infant-souls.
You played 
gentle words
accordion notes
for lonely ears.
Knitted smiles
out of a kindness thread.
Too heavy a burden
on your shoulders,
weakness is
around the corner;
take my hand,
we can share
the weight of a dancing sun
we can
make it light, make it hope.
We will
carry continents
of wars and sorrow,
together,
dispense healing water
from springs of neverending
empathy
on our heads
tree of life
will set its roots,
our hearts
like birds
of a feather
alone no more
across the empty skies.
Now
when the moon
still 
laugh
take my hand,
breathe out.
                                                   
  Iron CageCan you feel my heart
slamming against your bones
like a crow in a cage?
Do you gnaw at your cheek
until you taste the iron in you
each time that it tremors?
I sure as hell hope so.
 

Mature Content

  we used to make butterfly handsYou told me that when I was older I would understand
and I looked up and saw the sky in paper planes and periwinkle blue.
I reached out and drew a line for you;
traced it all over the globe and back to your wise heart
so that when I was older, my head full of understanding,
I’d be able to navigate back to my place there
and touchdown, settle down with you.
You said that our worlds were too distant,
you with your job and bills to pay and me with my honey-sweet dreams.
I nodded and pulled back my flyaway hair
thinking that if we’re alive together, against all the odds and centuries alive together,
that’s close enough for me.
I kissed you and you told me I was great. Carousel great. Sandy-toes great. Smiles on a Saturday, belly-laughs great.
You snapped the string and flew away.
I’m older and I do understand
that dotted lines get tangled or just fall away completely and
you were right when you said that things aren't quite as pretty
as they are in my party-h
  GaiaI wonder if I’ll miss your skies. When we first started out, you promised I would see the Amazon,
that I’d look up and marvel at your canopy and wild sun.
You said that you were mine.
And oh, how people raved about you –
they said that you were an oyster; a stage
and I went on believing that you were a bright cacophony of wood and actors
or some soft seafood delicacy.
I gulped you down like fish and lies
and with you in my throat, I choked.
I won’t tell you you’re cruel when I let you go.
Instead I will tell you the truth:
that you are Alps in France and wide, wide oceans,
high heel shoes and splendid walls,
you are divorce attorneys and air-force planes
and banks gleaming in the stark white sky as they lord over pigeon cities.
You are sometimes hugs from the people I love
and at other times mushroom clouds.
You are the rhythm thrumming beneath the skins of drums
and a dentist drilling a child’s teeth;
the roar of city buses that still scare m
  Ioana by nairafee  

Mature Content

541 by photoduality
 :thumb435637979:  :thumb437861144:  

Mature Content

 :thumb438608874:    :thumb438061436:  

Mature Content

  Attack on titan (Tinierme Outfit) (Updated) by Kenny-White-Lion   Burn by Kamal-Q   Olympics by 3wyl   Duuuuude! by SaintOfTheDragons   Sweet SomethingsHe whispered promises into her ears that he knew he could keep.   one more off-key anthem, let your teeth sink inIf there was only some way
to pull words back into my mouth
without devouring them
like the damn devil,
then it would've hurt less
than the time the wounds were
fresh-
like suicide hanging low
in the air, vibrating
from my tongue
to the world's damn drums
wishing I drowned in the silence
without
falling
unfurling tears
and my shaking bones
holding back words
that are supposed to be left unspoken-
undiscovered
until a slight of hand
shoves me into a cliff
and everything
breaks like glass.
There's so much regret
caught at the edge of
my lungs and I wish I could
just stop saying that-
a dead heart
and an itch at the back
of my throat and all
that cliche-
but I can't breathe long
enough-
  Not Like Most Girls“I’m not having this conversation every time. It’s absolutely out of the question.”
“Why? It’s been almost two years.”
Cara turned to him. “David. You categorically cannot meet my parents.”
“Do they have something against solicitors?”
She shook her head. “It’s nothing to do with that.”  
David scowled. “What then? Puritans?”
Cara unbuckled the seat belt, and fought the urge to smile. “Not exactly. Look, just trust me on it.”
“Is there something you’re not telling me?”
The half-smile vanished like a fox down a hole. “What?”
“Not many women in their thirties still live with their parents, Cara. Look, if the situation’s delicate, just tell me. I don’t need to know details. But only dysfunctional couples keep secrets.”
She stared at him, suddenly furious. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
 :thumb436938704:     The Travels of a RoverTen years ago I left my home
To scour the world and rove and roam
From the deepest catacomb
To where the oceans slosh and foam.
In my travels I have gone
To far off places I was drawn
Where small green frogs go to spawn
With cabbages resting on the lawn.
And need I mention the Headless Wren
Which roosts deep within Big Ben
A curious place to lay one's eggs
In the counter-weighted pegs.
I found them wedged among the gears
They all stopped, like startled deer
And gave me a look, which was rather queer
However I can't describe it, I fear.
Underfoot the bells ring and chime
Doling out the moment's time
Hearing this I nearly fell
Under the bronze and silver's spell.
Speaking of silver, gold, and jewels
I traveled once to Burdin-Rajh
And picked up some rather useful tools
For making desert camouflage.
Made by heating silica sand
Into thin, malleable string
Weaving every red-hot strand
While the workmen's daughters sing.
Finally I finished my coat
And pulled it on over my head
At first I thou
    The bell jar will not kill meA low white sun ignited 
February's slush, 
crystals on the sidewalk, 
even her trash
had its color.
Plastic cups, 
coke cans,
a dead rabbit,
rotting cardboard,
I can't hate The Wasteland.
Mother 
who's incubated 
a striving resenment,
drives my sidestep 
to watch cars 
fume and glisten,
listen to the radio,
get up for work on Monday and
smoke on the dock.
 :thumb435920027:   BURIED TREASUREPeople fear me I've been told, my Strangeness and Solitude,
the way the syllables of Silence soothe my tongue that
overheats from the exhaust of actually speaking, but how
can they fear me, this wisp of a girl who doesn't need
a hurricane to break so easily, if only they knew how
Solitude wraps my pieces in a diaphanous gauze so I may
glue and re-glue them together again, my sensitive skin
wears thin for I refuse to grow callouses-this is my Source
of Strength and Poetry-but how I secretly wish for someone
to love me and make lace of my scars.
My lips are fettered in barbed wire thorns,
held tightly together and sewn with the crisscross
stitches of spiderwebs-so my secrets and unsung
soliloquies won't leak out and leave a disemboweled
stain on Reality's battlefield, I've learned to
keep my secrets safely locked away, everytime
they laughed at me-my mother and others-
I retreated further inside my Dreamer's world
that sparkled just for me, lost to the Enchantment
I learned to create, I
 :thumb435855319:       To stoneAlone in the darkness -- coiled up.
Facing off against insurmountable odds.
These shadows cling to the very flesh
that embodies my stigmatization.
I’ll endure this crown of thorns
Whilst stalactites freeze my heart.
I’ll smile the fakest of smiles,
hollowed out, devoid of meaning.
Till words no longer hurt
and heart turns to stone.
 

Mature Content

  Dishonest I amDishonesty has been, in words apt for it, described
as a fail of etiquettes, of ethics, of manners inscribed.
For to be honest, is to speak of the heart through one's own mind;
to untie the chains that so exaggeratingly bind.
But when I feel pain, or sorrow, or happiness, I set my quill down,
for me to compose an orchestra of truth, in which I myself drown.
However, so cursed is the quill, for it yields to my mind, not heart
what it wishes to produce, is not a recreation of emotions, but an art.
I have tried, again and yet again, to teach it what art is, to coax
yet listens not - stubborn quill, it believes my words are a hoax!
Thus all I create are analogies, replications of my mind
pieces, shards of a broken glass case in which I’m confined.
I envy those, whose quills listen to their heart’s sound plea
They are honest and free, a mere abstraction for me.
Thus forgive me those, who are people of trust and respect
for I am a man with the noose of dishonesty around my neck.
  Sailing by PaulVonGore    :thumb436888338:  :thumb437868165:   Weathered by darkallegiance666  :thumb435141319:  :thumb435571154:   TomorrowTomorrow you will go the store and smile at the cashier, and he will smile back. For a second, you will be a pleasant human being, someone that someone else likes being around.
Tomorrow evening you will run into some friends and they will tell you all their problems. You will pretend that you can solve them all, and your friends will rely on you to do so. You will remain the perfect person they’ve created in their minds.
Tomorrow night you will cry yourself to sleep and scrub at your face until it hurts.
  Enough of a WhoreThey tell me perfection is –
unnecessary to be a good person,
impossible to achieve, and driving
me to an early grave from stress.
But they also tell me
that they expect me to shine,
that I’m highly intelligent,
and define me based on those
traits that I hate to think about.
And I’m enough of a whore
for attention from my betters,
and desperate enough for
people’s attention,  that
I’m perfectly willing to give up
night’s sleep to get it.
If you tell me that it’s not necessary,
but history proves that it is,
I’m never going to trust you enough
especially when you define me as
smart or talented, and depend on me
to be those or started to like me because
I was too stupid to hide those parts of me.
So I know it’s going to end with a
Breakdown or an early death,
But that’s nothing compared to
the scraps of attention I get and
those brief moments when I
convince myself that you’d all
still care if I was dumb as a rock,
ev
 :thumb437991454:     PeaceI never used question dare to.
a S I grew, though, questions soon did too.
un U sual thoughts fed to me
but F ear, me it ensnared in its web.
all ef F ort, all change would be for naught
chang E, out of our grasp, and made was I
only a p R isoner theirs until the end of time.
seven I nsufferable years, thought of as nothing but
a fie N d.
S ometimes I dream of that day
m I ne suffering still fresh, not a haze.
al L for what?
mad E difference none to the world I did.
made N othing of me other than fuel for endless war, and hate.
the di C e rolled in favor of bloodshed, for
jewel r E d, diamond precious more.
I cry, w E ep, and never sleep
for e V ery night, when close mine eyes
min E ears hear their cries;
fa R m ablaze, children’s charred carcass...
m Y family from me be torn and
Damned I be until
sAy no more shall I. Unt
   :thumb435292244:   Master with angel wings, Finish!! by aenaluck   Flare - 02022014 by Physco-Matter   A old letter by Lynnae-Madison   TTruly has he spoken in his word,
Tested the commands that we have heard.
Thank the Lord for wrath and mercy both,
Thank the Lord for pruning and for growth.
Tread upon the path that He has set:
Time is his. Why hold onto regret?
Trust in Him whose walk has never slipped;
Take His grace, and by it be equipped.
  Winter Tries To RememberPerhaps it was the way her delicate crystals would soak and shudder as they touched the earth. The first few times the flakes fell they would wither and die, but they were laying a foundation for the ones to follow. Maybe it was her hushed movements that could bring the busiest streets to a standstill. Each snowflake formed piles of white petals on windshields as the storm carried on. Maybe it was how she would string subtle wreaths along windowsills by the break of dawn. Or it could have been how, even in a frosted rage, her beauty shone through to him.
Winter shifts in his seat, causing a small blanket of cold air to sweep across part of the world. The people feel a sudden chill, but shrug it off. Winter takes his time as he thinks, recalling how she would bleach branches with her soft touch. He remembers how the moon would sing, jealous notes tinting her song, as snow fell. Assembling snowflakes high in the air, she would place each one with a careful hand to the ground below. She w
    amo(u)r                                                                  \
     vraiment, tu me manques                           /       te juro que no puedo vivir sin ti 
                                                                  \                                             
     allow your taut flesh your waterfall wish        /      see if the scent of someone else's hair
  Price of Love"Girlfriend," Boyfriend"
They're just titles,
Not contracts.
No one holds the deeds to my heart,
My love is not for sale, and
My affection can't be bought;
Official love is just an investment
In my interests, and a price
I'm just not willing to pay,
It's a debt I will not welcome,
A ransom I won't give into,
A deal I will not make.
 :thumb435534954:   Return To Forever by Spiritomb1231   You don't need a cape to be a heroSome heroes are born glorified;
Praised from the moment of their creation,
Blessed with the gift of greatness.
Others are just born plain,
Lingering in normality and dwelling
In the usual.
The heroic are strong,
Tall, handsome.
Perfection in an imperfect world.
Fighting the immoral and defeating
Those who stand idle with the devil.
These are the idols of our ancestors,
Of our storybooks,
And of our minds and hearts.
That is the only hero known to us.
But there are other exemplars,
Ones we see every day,
Yet fail to notice their grandeur.
These heroes of the norm;
They do not fly with red capes,
or glide like winged angles.
They do not descend from gods,
Or the heavens.
These icons
Are you
And me
And him
And her.
Yes,
Not all heroes wear capes.
A good deed of kindness,
Courage in the face of danger,
Faith in the face of hell---
All these are qualities deemed valorous.
Done by average people,
Average heroes.  
So to every child who dreams of being a hero-
You can be an inspirational
  A Photographic Dream    The faded black and white photograph sits idly on the vanity. My exact likeness stares out at me from within the flowered frame. We stare at each other, admiring the intricate feature we share. She seems to understand how lucky I was to inherit such beauty from her, the ideal embodiment of femininity. A sort of arrogance glints in her eyes; her plump lips seem to smirk. Her creamy, alabaster skin glows with confident. She is aloof, to say the least. I know everything about this woman, my grandmother, as well as myself, by this photograph. I am the spitting image of her. I know that I am much more than my sorry excuse of a mother. I know that there is more to me than her. Because of my grandmother, I know that I come from more than a disrespected, cheap drunk. This photograph of my grandmother shows me everything that I could ever be.
    One day, I know I will leave this place I am forced to call home. I will abandon the lower-class without a second-glance the f
  Say it Loud by seven11ART  :thumb434515993:  :thumb434656965:  :thumb437595643:    :thumb434444410:  :thumb434380831:   Heart on the runShe's on the loose
Looking to seduce
Whatever you do
She's gonna hurt you
Before the night is done
She'll be on the run
       Wings of fire
       Beating with desire
       Heart on the run
       Escape to the sun
Stop to recharge
She's on the large
Can't keep her bound
Won't turn around
Always running
She's so cunning
       Wings of fire
       Beating with desire
       Heart on the run
       Escape to the sun
Her Prince Charming
Turned to Mr. Harming
She's out the door
Stop no more
She's on the run
Off to the sun
       Wings of fire
       Beating with desire
       Heart on the run
       Escape to the sun
    Wishing WellDespite all that's happened
Between you and me,
Because of all that's happened
When we were together
I take my leave from us.
I cannot turn back time
Correct your mistakes
Still I want to turn back time,
Give you another chance
You can waste once again.
A coin falls down the well
Of foolish wishes.
More coins fall down the well
They're telling of a far
Too big and stupid heart.
All of the stress and pain
You have put me through
After all the worried hours
That you have caused for me
Still I'm wishing you well.
  Retribution by wacalac  :thumb322078153:  :thumb434818309:   Ya'aburneeDon't ask me to walk the path of life without you, my dear
even the brightest beauty I'd see of a darker hue, my dear.
Oh, I can't think of my personal universe divided and broken,
your presence in my mind no longer true, my dear.
Forgive this weak, frangible heart; too much wonder
vanishes in the clouds as morning dew, my dear.
Without Spring a Winter, for both of us will come; the things 
we can do to change the world are none but just a few, my dear.
I am grateful to whatever force brought us together,
when I say always you know it's true, my dear.
But there is so much more to our forever than I can say,
there is my stupid fear of losing you, my dear
there is the unstoppable train of time, unforeseen
a future; so into the abyss this cry I threw, my dear
may be numerous our days, and happy. May I be the first
to say farewell, the first to say adieu, my dear.
  Una Preghiera (alla tristezza)English version below


Una Preghiera (alla tristezza)
Lasciami,
che io possa sentire la goia
di nuovo
e guardare al mattino
con speranza.
Lasciami,
che le parole perdute
e la musica
ritornino,
come il sorriso.
Lasciami
correre senza pensieri
sotto la pioggia.
Ti prego;
lasciami
sognare, gridare, ridere;
lasciami
dimenticare.
----------------------------------------
A Prayer (to sadness)
Leave me,
may I feel the joy
again,
and watch at morning
with hope.
Leave me,
may all the lost words
and the music
return,
like my smile.
Allow me
to run heedlessly
in the rain.
I beg you;
allow me
to dream, to scream, to laugh;
allow me 
to forget.
  Water Fun 3 by PatrickMonnier   The Lightning Leaps from the Sky    The wind blows high and the sky hangs low,
    Tall ships are swallowed as the billows roll,
    The storm rears back with a bended bow,
    The lightning leaps from the sky.
     
    Thunder roars o’er sea and coast,
    Bright light flickers like a fleeting ghost,
    Aye, ‘tis when we can see the most,
    The lightning leaps from the sky.
     
    The light’s gone out on the beacon tall,
    The keel cuts jagged ‘neath a leaking hull,
    The masts all groan in the wailing squall,
    The lightning leaps from the sky.
     
  
   :thumb433685273:     PearlsAnd even though they stand neck-deep in the debris of their land,
They still stare out at it as if it’s still a glistening gem amongst coal and false gold
Even though they cannot move more than one fourths of their bodies,
They still dance as if the world was theirs
And even though they’ve lost their instruments,
They beat the stones that were once their homes together as to reminisce magnificence
Even though they are deemed empty echoes of once was,
They still chant that now is now and then is forever
 

Mature Content

  Late OctoberOctober rain spills on top of fallen leaves; puddles of water over red, orange and yellow. Glassy pools of color raging in a last flourish of life. The drops are cool on the tongue and refreshing- sending a shiver down my spine as they drip down my neck.
Autumn's rushing wind
Little lakes of brilliant hues
Fields of thriving corn.
  abloom by prettyflour   Spring Has Held Life in Her HandsSunlight is pouring past her lips as she cradles newborn fawns. Vines twist and spiral into a calligraphy of green memories; she bats her eyes causing petals to glide on softened breezes. As she hangs leaflets on branches and tucks in tree roots with blankets of moss  she smiles. Mountains cry, with snow trickling down their peaks. She places circlets of white flowers at their feet; her hands brush the sliding snow away.  
She builds a castle of iris and lilies over the world with purples, pinks, and reds dotting the horizon. The people look up and shudder as a sudden peace engulfs them. Spring digs moats of morning dew beneath drawbridges of grass. Placing a tiara of clovers against the sides of dead trees, grass spurting forth from their wounds she sings. Birds flit between the branches of her hair, chirping a song of return into her ear.
The clouds stretch awake at the sound of Spring, chuckling hello with a wave of white. Forests clamor for her touch and she obliges, unfu
  Ihop
I went back to the diner.
There were the people,
chewing on their food,
blank faces
and I was on fire,
I was a nuclear fusion m***********,
so I asked people where I could sit down
and when they told me there was no room
I flipped tables,
I yelled at the customers,
and slammed people to the floor.
I screamed, “This is a man beyond repair!”
to anyone who gave a s***,
and I was a nuclear fusion m***********,
throwing food,
throwing people,
throwing tables,
and they brought in the cops
and I threw them, too.
They brought in the marines,
and I laughed in their faces,
because I was no longer a person,
I was a m************ force,
They dropped a missile on my skull
and it didn’t make a dent.
They dropped the universe on me,
and I didn’t blink.
This is a man beyond repair,
this man will bring you all down,
this man has stopped caring about your excuses.
I am no longer the mud puddle.
I am no longer in the background.
I refuse to be a nobody,
so I went back to the diner


:shrug: yeah I've been busy... but all of it was worth the effort :) Keep writing, all of you, and stay blessed. You're all awesome. :dummy:
© 2014 - 2024 Chezzy-Am
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SaintOfTheDragons's avatar
Thanks for another awesome feature. You're doing the dA community good.