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Deviant for 9 Years
Core Member 'til Hell freezes over
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Random from Equivoke

seadeer i'm getting there
Lay here with me on my bed of customary blue:
It's here I trace with tongues and dainty rubbings
the union of shapes - watch as the circles triumph
and taj-mahal our hearts. They, the heartless bastards
with mirrors and forky spoons. You,
such a leader,
I lack. Such a follower I dismiss. I am cold and I am wet
with your fever. I am gnashing my gums and half-crying
half-roaring against steel for the attention of a desert,
for the attention.
I went to the ocean, dared him to swallow my ankles. I
dared him. Told him I lost my irises to seaweed and it tastes
like honey without the sweetness, just the sting to be wrapped
in something so unearthlike and ovary-clenching. To be so
wrapped in a way that you don't want to breathe like musk,
for the fear of scaring, or being shoved away. Hush now,
and I am and I am committing this in silence. I am padding
a piece of your puzzle and whispering dead things in a way
that makes roadkill look like beautiful artistic modernism. I
want to hiccup - hav
:iconaadea:Aadea 5 26
On Women: My Grandmother Kick
After grandpa died, I asked if she was lonely.
I thought she was being brave when she said 'no'.
but I have seen her eighty-seven year old bones go for walks in the woods
or make sugar-free cookies.
She is a bird without a cage.
She makes solitude look romantic.
:iconvinesofsilver:vinesofsilver 12 0
on pause
Should there be an intermission
this evening:
This evening pregnant with
day and
this day pregnant with
atomic detonators.
Age is just a number, age is just
a reminder – for you! - when your stove breaks
and then you ask:
where were you then.
with cries and cancer sores and
disks forcefully shoved into heart drives and
this age is pretty and messed up, you say. You say
it and there are tears jogging down your cheeks
and smiles and I’m faintly remembering the time you told me:
no one needs to cry to tear
up anymore. Now tear me
down – like vanilla wall/paper
and pepper dreams on Tuesdays. The kind
that leave fathers swaying in space and
mothers tusked into silence.
:iconaadea:Aadea 2 2
why hopper painted gaspumps
why everytime i go home
home to parents house
more brokenthings
rotpaint windowsill
loose bricks
cloggedfilter coffeepot
why on xmas morning
found dead missy
blockage cancer
right under christmastree
between karaoke machine and keds
dad said no heaven
missy’s under tomatoes outback
why i was 10yearsold divorced
rushed into it
cricketbaby in waterbottle
married stephen burnette
3weeks kissed eachother’s scabs
wore grassknots around fingers
weekfour he took it off
him all nakedfinger pentacostal
me short hair pants no crying
took grassknot off own finger
ate it
why i dream crazyman dreams
crazyman insides on cement
insides cement leaking
megalomaniac out of skin  bones
lookdown at neck still pulsing
jugular squirming under priestcollar
call me ishmael
it works
why brother tablesets bong on poembooks
works dangelos
tells people when to take cigarette breaks
comes home smokes coffeetable bong
longneck bigbowl onehit high
stoned calls to talk andrei’s clas
:iconjuliaterese:juliaterese 6 10
once, we were cats
we are like cats because we chase shadows
cats, when we sit still and listen
to what the air reveals:
once, we were forest creatures
once, we climbed trees
sometimes we'll feel the bark in our fingernails
     and we scratch
sometimes we'll wake up feeling
     a rear ghost limb.
:iconyeatsgrave:yeatsgrave 7 10
Hangs from your pelvis
like an incomplete, conjoined sibling
with no mind of its own
but enough of yours to make you fear it.
Comes when you are sleeping
to perch on your face and dip its beak
redly into your dreams.
Shucks its claws
on the upholstery of your flesh.
Is a fog-eyed poet, reading aloud to you
endless reams of his own passionate,
excruciating verse.
Squats in the waste it has made of you,
a basilisk-child
you dare not look in the eye.
Remembers the body when it moved
with the ease of light across a lake’s delicate skin.
Watches your babies grow
skins so thick they can’t feel you.
Is an illusion
overcome by mastery of the mind,
an ascetic life, a clean colon, eighteen
valium and a quart of Scotch, a bullet
or all of the above.
:iconsalshep:salshep 220 212
Mature content
Elf vs. Orc :iconursulav:ursulav 405 144
Unfinal Solution
Jim and Dave shuffled down the street in the hot summer sun.  Occasionally they would encounter an obstacle, such as a shopping cart, corpse, pile of trash, or burned out car. Depending on the size and nature of the obstacle, their zombie intellect would kick over into high gear, and a conversation such as this might ensue:
“Rains!  Rains!  Raaaaaaaains1….”
If the object was large, such as a chunk of flaming airplane wreckage, Jim and Dave would do the Zombie Shuffle around its perimeter, sometimes bumping into each other and the obstacle itself.  On rare occasions, the not-quite-cooperative maneuvering deflected them from their original direction of movement, which was entirely random anyway.
If the obstacle was small or spread out (like the 2000 individually-wrapped packages of toilet paper they’d encountered yesterday, rolling and skittering before their tattered
:iconralfmaximus:RalfMaximus 195 148
happily never ending
Just so you know - I am happy. I am placing
my chin over your heart and smiling. I am
finally budding reverie in this thing and its only adjective
is indescribable. I think I’m finally going to join the chorus,
highlight and scribble on a classic book’s pages, tear off
these itchy barriers and lie down with
you bare
your souls like frog spleens, though you do not know
what frog spleens are made of and often forget the rest
of the important facts. This is okay, this is alright. I begin
understanding that I am the teacher, as well as the pupil
and you are the teacher, as well as the pupil and my pupils dilate
under harsh lights, but this is okay, this is alright because
in this very second, someone is learning to fly and then spiraling
down like two birds in sacred dance, and these are the things
that make me so happy; much like warm rain, warm strays,
and dangerous beauty. Yes, I want you to know that I am happy
with these restless eyes – these restless hands, these restl
:iconaadea:Aadea 3 4
Her Anger
Waves barely show
in deep water, even at the surface,
but fish somehow feel surges
pass along their lateral lines,
and flash silver away.
Commenting is unwise.
Light moves differently
in water than in air.
Its passage is sluggish,
and it changes its angle.
Waves grow taller
in shallow water, until
they break, buckling
at the center and collapsing
in a roar of white foam
and black depth until smashed flat
against the sand, energy dispelled.
:iconwhisperedreams:WhispereDreams 2 18
Dirty Feet
The day breaks, into shards of sky,
and half awake I swear you've sprouted sheets within your very soul;
an extension on your limbs and light so dim grows golden in the
shattered sun while you recollect the day I was afraid of birds.
You pressed your arms so tightly to your side until the fear,
irrational, of flapping wings,
could lovingly subside.
Your body bent, and sterling silver,
is a picture frame that's sent to dazzle us with blinding repurcussions.
My dirty feet endure your scorn, demure
I sit cross legged and wonder at the clutter in this room.
Cluttered thoughts are cluttered floors,
but you don't mind
and lazily refuse to do your share of chores.
My dirty feet endure your scorn.
Two hundred forty three; cooling count
from when I stir you with a cup of tea.
:iconcheramyn:cheramyn 4 15

Random from Resources

Active and Passive Voice
Active Voice
Active voice occurs when the subject or agent in the sentence performs the action, often towards an object. For example, let's look at the following sentence written in active voice:
Katie spilled the milk.
In this sentence, Katie is the subject, and she performs the action (spilling) on the direct object (the milk.) The most obvious way to spot active voice is through the use of active verbs, which are simply verbs that express actions. In most cases, the sentence will take on the simple form of the tense it's in, whether past, present, or future.
Passive Voice
In passive voice, the object being acted upon is emphasized over the agent. A passive version of the previous sentence would look like this:
The milk was spilled by Katie.
In this sentence, our object (the milk) appears before the action (was spilled) and the agent (Katie.) You will also notice that this sentence is in the progressive fo
:icononewordatatime:onewordatatime 72 29
Showing, Part One
If you've ever taken a class in creative writing, you've no doubt heard the teacher repeat the phrase, "Show, don't tell" over and over again.  While there are few hardest rules in creative writing, this persistent little mantra might be the ultimate.  Teachers and writers who write about writing spout it out all the time, but what does it mean anyway?  After, isn't all writing really "telling" on some level?
It's best to view "showing" not as a single technique, but a summation of the most effective writing techniques.  If we know anything about poetry, it's that the best poetry usually conjures specific and concrete images.  Beyond language itself, images are the meat and bones of poetry.  So goes most of prose as well.  The prose writer has the added duty of creating situations and characters that seem real and believable.
Showing invites the reader into the world of out poem and story.  If the reader can see, smell, taste, and feel the world through our writing, the reader is more
:icononewordatatime:onewordatatime 97 49
Editorial - Cliche
Cli·ché (klee-shay) also cliche (kl-sh)  n.
1.) A trite or overused expression or idea: ?Even while the phrase was degenerating to cliché in ordinary public use... scholars were giving it increasing attention? (Anthony Brandt).
2.) A person or character whose behavior is predictable or superficial: ?There is a young explorer... who turns out not to be quite the cliche expected? (John Crowley).
(source: )
It's not something pleasant to hear, or pleasant to say.
  But what's to be done, when you find it one day
   in a pile of mismatched lines like a stack of hay?
  They aren't hard to spot, like white backgrounds
   and black dots. You'll know what I mean, in
  a minute or two, but cliché phrases and ideas
will be the death of you.
What does a word or phrase need to do in order to become cliché?
There is no patented test that words must go through nor a physical examinat
:icononewordatatime:onewordatatime 24 28
Lesson 2 - More Meter
"A poet who makes use of a worse word instead of a better, because the former fits the rhyme or the measure, though it weakens the sense, is like a jeweler, who cuts a diamond into a brilliant, and diminishes the weight to make it shine more."
  - Horace Walpole
While every metrical poem will have a base meter to serve as its backbone, many poets often find that writing in ten-syllable iambic sentences, for example, is too limiting for their purposes, either because pure meter doesn't provide enough variation for proper emphasis or because it quickly gets dull and tedious, or a combination of the two.
You might have noticed this limitation when you wrote your blank verse in the last lesson.  Often it occurs that there is something you want to say that simply will not work in your base meter, that you have to sound like Yoda to get your words into the proper meter, or that you feel that a different foot "feels right" in a certain place. &
:iconprofessor-flare:Professor-Flare 25 0
Handout 1 - More on Scansion
More on Scansion
If scanning a line of verse is difficult for you, do not fret.  As the cliché goes, practice makes perfect.  In this lesson, I'll go over some of the tricks of scansion and offer some ways to more easily identify a line's meter.
Take this opening line of one of Shakespeare's most famous sonnets, titled either "Sonnet 18" or by the first line:
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Your first task should be to identify polysyllabic words that can only be pronounced in one way.  "Compare" and "summer's" are two such words, an iamb and a trochee, respectively:
         ˘  /              /  ˘
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Saying "COMpare" or "sumMER'S" would sound awkward, as this is not how they are pronounced in normal speech.  We have another hint in "a," which is part o
:iconprofessor-flare:Professor-Flare 15 3
Lesson 1 - Basics of Meter
"Life is tons of discipline.  Your first discipline is your vocabulary; then your grammar and your punctuation.  Then, in your exuberance and bounding energy you say you're going to add to that.  Then you add rhyme and meter.  And your delight is in that power."
  - Robert Frost
As Robert Frost is saying, meter and rhyme are not the most important parts of writing.  They are the most intricate when creating poetry, but poems can be written without them.  I began my poetry with free verse, and gradually became more and more fixed as I went on to learn more about how meter affects the poem, and how rhyme, alliteration, assonance, and the like also affect the reader's experience with a piece of poetry.  And my free verse is all the better for it.  Even if you never write another fixed poem after finishing this course, an intricate understanding of the rules of conventional poe
:iconprofessor-flare:Professor-Flare 213 40
Metre Learning Guide
So. Metre.
It has become a dirty word in some poetry circles.
It conjures images of withered, grey-haired men laboriously counting out beats and stresses whilst coughing up phlegm because of all the dust in their cramped and quasi-arcane libraries.
It really isn't all THAT bad, trust me.
So, without getting too 'old-man' technical - What is metre? what is it good for?
And, importantly, how does one use it?
Well, let's see if we can come up with some workable and easily understood answers by the end of this.
#1: What is metre?
Technical Language: The most well known metre, 'Accentual Syllabic Metre' is the rhythmic arrangement of syllables and patterns of stresses in a poetic line.
Translation: Metre is a poetic device that allows you to consciously orchestrate the flow of rhythm in a poem by paying attention to the natural rise and fall of the spoken word, and how to align those patterns of word-emphasis in an effective way.
#2: What is metre good for?
Basically, metre is
:iconpoetrylibrary:PoetryLibrary 128 65
Tips For the Novice
Tips For The Novice
It's an all-too common occurrence on my periodic forays into the world of internet poetry - writing weakened by a lack of fundamental knowledge concerning the essence of poetry writing. There are no rules set in stone about creative writing. The writer that strikes new trails can make a lasting impact on the world of poetry, but the chances of a writer stumbling upon golden words without a solid knowledge base are slim to none. The following tips for novice writers are intended to help shore up those fundamentals, to help the young writer breathe the essence of life into their poems, and to better share that essence with the reader.
The most important element you can inject into your poetry is imagery.  Imagery is made up of sense data: color, sound, smell, temperature, the feeling of physical contact.  When we remember anything with any vividness, we remember in images.  When we fantasize or hallucinate, it is i
:iconsuture:suture 372 195
The Originality Illusion
It's come to my attention that, in the online amateur writing scene, no one seems to understand the proper role of characters in conjunction with plot.  
From what I have been able to observe, literally everyone tries to create characters outside of plot by outlining what they look like, what they eat for dinner, and what bands they absolutely abhor.  That's the law on how it's done.  The amount of "character survey sheets" containing a never-ending list of questions for prospective characters is ridiculous--and sad, because determining these things will in no way help you create a good character or, more importantly, a good story (which I define as an account of a character's actions within a given plot).
In reality, your character is not going to comb his hair, sit down to the dinner table, or workout in the gym with his iPod during the erupting mayhem of your story.  If he does, it's because you've invested way too much time in randomly select
:iconilluminara:illuminara 1,670 690

Critical Acclaim & Testimonials

"She proposed in the most beautiful way, under a starlit sky full of rainbows and flying unicorns. She promised to love me forever. Then she dumped me for a cat."
"In an instant, she collapsed our universe into a singularity. Yet, nobody noticed because it was immediately replaced by a duplicate universe. Everything is exactly the same...well...except that the color Turbopple no longer exists." - vest
"She cloned me. Now Winewriter2 and I can't figure out which one of us is the original. We've decided to split everything in half. My cat has not survived the ordeal."
- WineWriter
"She preserved me for the winter. I now live in a series of 25 alphabetically-arranged jars in her basement. She's using the twenty-sixth to spread upon her toast, but I refuse to discuss which letter it was." - memnalar
"She sealed me in a box with a subatomtic particle in an attempt to explain Schrodinger's theory of putative incompleteness of quantum mechanics. I still don't understand and am now not sure whether I am living or dead.

"Why did you do that?

"Am I a zombie?" - Paperdaisies




Hi *THEendOmega, I'm going to start with a rundown of the overall summary of the poem's message. That way, you'll see what I'm reading ...

Hi *Catspupil, I'm going to take you at your word just dive straight into my impressions and see where that gets me. Intent:Title: The ...

I am a critic. Hear me rawr.

Obligatory crit disclaimer.

Ten years, and a couple cute dogs

Journal Entry: Fri Jun 27, 2014, 1:16 PM
Earlier this week, I realized it's been over a decade that I've been a member of deviantART. Wow. Ten years this may, from poetry to photography to prose to more photography to digital art. It's pretty intense, but the biggest thing that hit me when I logged into this account after this long hiatus was the reminder of all the wonderful people I've met along the way.

If you'd like to keep in touch, and I hope you do, you should watch me over at ninebark. We will chat and note and comment and have an amazing time. And if that's not enough, let me bribe you with some pretty pictures:

Caira by ninebark   Rose by ninebark   From Beneath by ninebark   Woman in Pink by ninebark

Come say hello and tell me what you've been up to,



sleeping in a campfire
Artist | Professional | Literature
"I gave up on new poetry myself thirty years ago, when most of it began to read like coded messages passing between lonely aliens on a hostile world."
          Russell Baker

Hello there, Stranger!

If you're just here to say "thnx 4 the fav/watch/visit",
                please don't.


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VSConcepts Featured By Owner Jan 24, 2017  Professional Interface Designer
Happy Birthday!! XD :cake: :dance: :party: :dalove: :boogie: :headbang:
SRSmith Featured By Owner Jan 24, 2016   Writer
Happy one more revolution around the sun day!
LexisSketches Featured By Owner Apr 27, 2015
Just stopping by to say hello :hug: Have a wonderful day~!
Rosary0fSighs Featured By Owner Jan 25, 2015
Happy birthday!! :iconcaekplz: :iconballoonplz: :iconballooonplz:
SRSmith Featured By Owner Jan 24, 2015   Writer
Happy one more revolution around the sun day!
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