Recall the bad times?
A list of divorce that damaged you beyond repair.
Loss of that imporant someone (thing),
layoffs.
You've survived.
Will you
appreciate what you have now?
Tired from screaming out frustrations and eyes
red and sore from
consistant tears,
hot as the sun that scalds the skin.
Ask yourself:
What person grew out of me?
Two colorful children
make a driveway a chalk covered land,
filled with x and o's, scribbles and smiles.
They pat their hands together to make colored clouds,
and slap them onto concrete,
a mark for everyone to see.
Their laugh into the night,
sweating and singing off key.
Soon, darkness envelops them both,
the stars their only light,
they leave for home.
Their laughter echoes in the stillness.
The next night,
the warm rain washes their handprints away,
in puddles mixing and churning with
blues, yellows, pinks and greens,
all the way down the drive into the lake,
where, the colors
disappear.
Their laughter cannot be hear
Chill of Summers Sickness by imjustme213, literature
Literature
Chill of Summers Sickness
Chill
has infected the air,
though it is June
the sickly sun has disappeared
behind gloomy clouds that hint of rain
that keeps itself, selfishly
from starving sunflowers,
and wild, wilting, weeds.
Pale toes dip into water,
once brimming with life,
that now is murky,
and shimmers no more,
only hides skin,
mixing with the dirt underneath its shallow self.
Somehow it finds a way to cut
flesh with cold clearness.
The only warmth is that of the person sitting beside me,
who wades their feet,
next to mine,
touching every now and then,
only to move away
fast like a fearful fish
I look to the sky to ask of his fear.
All that
Books, Meals of the Mind by imjustme213, literature
Literature
Books, Meals of the Mind
A book well-written can choke one
if they do not take the time to chew it well.
If one's literature is boring in reading,
it is best known it's bland in taste.
The meaning trivial,
and it gives a horrible case of indigestion.
There are millions, billions of different books,
so many meals to choose from.
Some are spicy in flavor,
while others have a taste that is unknown.
The variety is endless.
Consequently,
all kinds of people starve the mind,
they lack satisfaction of savory reading.
However, a particular delicious book,
is one that a person stews in,
and tastes many-a -times,
even after the meal is over.
These are the
There is a young boy outside
who is pushing a
broken, blue baby-stroller.
Inside, there is no baby,
but weeds that his sister killed earlier.
He picks up the wilting leaves and snapped stems,
and plops them into the seat
before strolling down the drive.
"My
vocabulary
did this to me."
Twisted
my tongue,
'till I could speak no more.
Forced rhythm and rhyme
out of my nimble fingers,
making them
feeble and sore,
there is nothing left
but
an old man, alone,
with a bottle of amber,
that looks enticingly at me.
It whispers in terms,
so beautiful
I can see,
that knowledge is
a present-
day curse,
of a writer,
poet,
a lover,
and worst,
I waited wantingly
for a lovers longing embrace,
however written words
were all I had to face.
Today I look at my window,
the world passing me by,
amber liquid staining course carpet,
silence asking
"why?"
It is now,
after all th
They a say a
Star-Struck storm,
is coming.
With thunderous waves and light that crashes down
killing tress,
or cutting
off
precious limbs.
Shh...
Listen,
there it is,
the harsh beating of rain,
fat and angry,
against the window pane.
Fists fly in a fury of winds,
hear them scream,
high and agitated,
against you walls
of self-assured safety.
The sky blanks out,
and water stings skin,
it's fasted paced fury-
no doubting that.
You're doubting it.
But of course you are,
we all do once,
but when the
walls break down
and clear liquid leaks
through plaster and plastic
filling up floors,
when pictures,
memories are n
Christopher, holds it in stride,
his questions of what-ifs
that
f-o-l-l-o-w him like children
(he'll never have)
and we both know
that secretly he holds
the answers close to his breast
like a life line,
even though he knows they are guesses at best,
but they're his
and that's
enough.
The inner-being is worse than his outer,
it mocks him
and giggles like a gossiping child.
Both are weak like the knees
of old man.
The old man his is
(too poor for a cane),
he looks old,
no, scratch that, simply tried:
drained.
Christopher lacks complexion,
he has the eyes of an ocean:
D
e
e
p
and filled with life,
but
Not in love but lost heart any by imjustme213, literature
Literature
Not in love but lost heart any
It wasn't obvious,
strangely,
I never even knew until
it
happened.
Brown eyes, and brown hair,
nothing amazing, spectacular, stupefying,
to anyone else but those who cared for her.
Although, that seems to be the way
it always goes,
doesn't it?
I didn't even know until she left,
that she had taken a piece with her.
But then again,
there's always that one
person who leaves with your heart,
that one person you knew you would love from the stat.
And though I laughed
and loved with her everyday,
I didn't know 'till she went away.
That there is always that one person who steals accidentally-
leaving behind a trial of memories
Recall the bad times?
A list of divorce that damaged you beyond repair.
Loss of that imporant someone (thing),
layoffs.
You've survived.
Will you
appreciate what you have now?
Tired from screaming out frustrations and eyes
red and sore from
consistant tears,
hot as the sun that scalds the skin.
Ask yourself:
What person grew out of me?
Two colorful children
make a driveway a chalk covered land,
filled with x and o's, scribbles and smiles.
They pat their hands together to make colored clouds,
and slap them onto concrete,
a mark for everyone to see.
Their laugh into the night,
sweating and singing off key.
Soon, darkness envelops them both,
the stars their only light,
they leave for home.
Their laughter echoes in the stillness.
The next night,
the warm rain washes their handprints away,
in puddles mixing and churning with
blues, yellows, pinks and greens,
all the way down the drive into the lake,
where, the colors
disappear.
Their laughter cannot be hear
Chill of Summers Sickness by imjustme213, literature
Literature
Chill of Summers Sickness
Chill
has infected the air,
though it is June
the sickly sun has disappeared
behind gloomy clouds that hint of rain
that keeps itself, selfishly
from starving sunflowers,
and wild, wilting, weeds.
Pale toes dip into water,
once brimming with life,
that now is murky,
and shimmers no more,
only hides skin,
mixing with the dirt underneath its shallow self.
Somehow it finds a way to cut
flesh with cold clearness.
The only warmth is that of the person sitting beside me,
who wades their feet,
next to mine,
touching every now and then,
only to move away
fast like a fearful fish
I look to the sky to ask of his fear.
All that
Books, Meals of the Mind by imjustme213, literature
Literature
Books, Meals of the Mind
A book well-written can choke one
if they do not take the time to chew it well.
If one's literature is boring in reading,
it is best known it's bland in taste.
The meaning trivial,
and it gives a horrible case of indigestion.
There are millions, billions of different books,
so many meals to choose from.
Some are spicy in flavor,
while others have a taste that is unknown.
The variety is endless.
Consequently,
all kinds of people starve the mind,
they lack satisfaction of savory reading.
However, a particular delicious book,
is one that a person stews in,
and tastes many-a -times,
even after the meal is over.
These are the
There is a young boy outside
who is pushing a
broken, blue baby-stroller.
Inside, there is no baby,
but weeds that his sister killed earlier.
He picks up the wilting leaves and snapped stems,
and plops them into the seat
before strolling down the drive.
"My
vocabulary
did this to me."
Twisted
my tongue,
'till I could speak no more.
Forced rhythm and rhyme
out of my nimble fingers,
making them
feeble and sore,
there is nothing left
but
an old man, alone,
with a bottle of amber,
that looks enticingly at me.
It whispers in terms,
so beautiful
I can see,
that knowledge is
a present-
day curse,
of a writer,
poet,
a lover,
and worst,
I waited wantingly
for a lovers longing embrace,
however written words
were all I had to face.
Today I look at my window,
the world passing me by,
amber liquid staining course carpet,
silence asking
"why?"
It is now,
after all th
They a say a
Star-Struck storm,
is coming.
With thunderous waves and light that crashes down
killing tress,
or cutting
off
precious limbs.
Shh...
Listen,
there it is,
the harsh beating of rain,
fat and angry,
against the window pane.
Fists fly in a fury of winds,
hear them scream,
high and agitated,
against you walls
of self-assured safety.
The sky blanks out,
and water stings skin,
it's fasted paced fury-
no doubting that.
You're doubting it.
But of course you are,
we all do once,
but when the
walls break down
and clear liquid leaks
through plaster and plastic
filling up floors,
when pictures,
memories are n
Christopher, holds it in stride,
his questions of what-ifs
that
f-o-l-l-o-w him like children
(he'll never have)
and we both know
that secretly he holds
the answers close to his breast
like a life line,
even though he knows they are guesses at best,
but they're his
and that's
enough.
The inner-being is worse than his outer,
it mocks him
and giggles like a gossiping child.
Both are weak like the knees
of old man.
The old man his is
(too poor for a cane),
he looks old,
no, scratch that, simply tried:
drained.
Christopher lacks complexion,
he has the eyes of an ocean:
D
e
e
p
and filled with life,
but
Not in love but lost heart any by imjustme213, literature
Literature
Not in love but lost heart any
It wasn't obvious,
strangely,
I never even knew until
it
happened.
Brown eyes, and brown hair,
nothing amazing, spectacular, stupefying,
to anyone else but those who cared for her.
Although, that seems to be the way
it always goes,
doesn't it?
I didn't even know until she left,
that she had taken a piece with her.
But then again,
there's always that one
person who leaves with your heart,
that one person you knew you would love from the stat.
And though I laughed
and loved with her everyday,
I didn't know 'till she went away.
That there is always that one person who steals accidentally-
leaving behind a trial of memories
I love writing, though I haven't posted in a while. I'm hoping to change that. First I want to clean out my page, since plenty of what I have on here is very old.
I really do hope to one day have a career that has to do with literature, possibly a teacher.
I enjoy all forms of art, that includes writing. I love seeing the passion and effort people put into their work.
More to come, thanks again folks!
Favourite Movies
Dracula, Austin Powers, The Notebook, Coraline, Up
Favourite Bands / Musical Artists
Pink, 3 Doors Dwon, Soundgarden, Smashing pumpkins, Pearl Jam, Kanye West, Coldplay, and many more
Favourite Games
Mind games.
Tools of the Trade
Pencil, colored pencils, camera, thoughts , pen and paper
Other Interests
Games, different cultures and religions, Arts/Literature, music, gardening,reading, nature
Hello readers, watchers, and others. For a while now, I've been in a funk. I don't have writers block, I'm writing, it's just everything that is turned out is bad, in my opinion anyway. On that note, I looked through old poems of mine, and it hurt.
My old pieces are horrible, I know as one grows they think that, but I constantly spelled things wrong, and had commas after every line. Therefore, I'm going to spend the next 2-3 months cleaning up my folders. Anything I do not care for anymore with be deleted from D.A, and put on a flash drive for fond memories. This may take a little more time due to the fact that I am in school.
That's really
Hello all. Life has been hectic, with family members growing ill, and several other problems with financial situations. Ah well, life will go on I suppose.
As usual, just go to the bold printed area that you're interested in. However, I do suggest that you look at the feature writer. I find that they are someone many of you may be interested in.
Writings
Poetry: I will post whenever something comes to mind.
Prose: I have a couple pieces of non-fiction prose that I am working on. They may or may not be posted.
Other art: My scanner had been broken for 2 years now. I do not see it getting fixed any time soon.
Winning writer:
:iconDras
Hello all, as always, headlines are bolded so you can go to what you want.
Literature works
I'm in a bit of a haze, popping out some things here and there. I'm also working on a small letter project.
All Other Works
Scanner is currently broken, so any works won't be seen.
Features
Winners of the "Life is beautiful contest"
1st place
Username- *DragonHeartLuver
piece of work Name- Life is Beautiful 1
Description- A visual traditional picture, of a dragon following a strange path home.
Link-
2ndPlace
Username- *tomcmustang
piece of work Name- I Love You
Description- A short sentence written in black in white, non the less it por
You're welcome, you definitively deserve it. Thanks for the tutorial by the way, that's really awesome of you to do. And yes, my real name is Autumn, and thank you once again. =^.^=