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Special Editions | Feature An Artist | Meet A Writer
"I warmly welcome you to the very first installment of the new feature series where I highlight the amazing collections of artwork in the deviantART community. I aim to help shape the writer through inspiring photographs, paintings, and myriad works of art from you!"
-- amour-raven
~~~
i'm a lover of literature & beautiful things.
"I warmly welcome you to the very first installment of the new feature series where I highlight the amazing collections of artwork in the deviantART community. I aim to help shape the writer through inspiring photographs, paintings, and myriad works of art from you!"
-- amour-raven
~~~
what we are all about.
Literarily Speaking is devoted to featuring a collection of well-deserving deviants and their literary prowess on a monthly basis. We aim to inspire fellow writers to never give up and aim for the stars and beyond, just as much as we strive not to be a cliche.
Every month we bask in the glory of a plethora of talented writers and an aspiring literature group; we host engaging interviews, comprehensive features, meet 'n greets, and much more!
~~~
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literary lovelies.
reentryyou are not a constellation.
there's no brilliant cluster
pumping in your chest,
no nebulae atwist
inside your slender neck.
you don't wrap your asterism
in cosmic lace,
nor do atmospheres
feel pressure
in your veins.
you are not blinding,
are not fusion,
are not distant;
but your gravity
is dangerously
persistent.
Rippled GlassShe stared at the ships that floated on the air, their crisp white sails fluttering in the wind. Their giant masts reached towards her domain, a few so high that they touched the water's face, sending ripples in its glass-like surface. They were heading towards a brewing storm, thunder rattling the windows and lightning flaring across their wide decks.
A man was staring up at her, his expression curious. He was sitting in the crow's nest of one of the ships. He had black hair and gray eyes. He wasn't unattractive, and as he noticed her staring down at him, he stood up and peered up at her.
She continued to stare down at him, swimming closer to the surface of the ocean. Her eyes never left his as they stared at each other, and for a brief second they shared a thought.
Both extending their hands, they reached towards the face of the water, she coming from above while he came from below.
you can't have it allBut you can have eating wild grapes and their skin like beetle wings
cocooned in bruises. You can have swings that go so high you kick
a hole in the clouds. You can have chickens following you through the front door
and the cat’s gift to say, Look, I am taking care of you.
You can have happiness, but tempered as
your first taste of wine when you hid your puckering face
because you were eight years old and dangerous.
You can have a touch you blush for, ferret hands dancing,
small and terrifying and knowledgable.
You can have an aspiration of “us” held on one stool leg, darting breaths but
never admitting to dreams, to a stew of practicality.
You can talk to her, sometimes,
and even mean something.
You can have the book you stole after she stumbled,
and “that” word sank into your hands. You can’t cure cancer,
but you can have two sets of spoons in the same sink
although she’s only touched the one you lent her,
the one you didn’t expe
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A Poem of No Onehe tells me
fix it -
i say it has a face
swamps running down in each of its eyes
weeds in its teeth
with needles for veins
it has a pulse like the tide, rolling in its ears
it snaps the necks of daisies and wonders if there’s an easier way to leave a field
it wants to know why god is everywhere but why there’s only one
angel sitting next to it in english - i say, and
it pours in a cup of its soul until the end isn't bitter
loses its heart with its keys and holds itself out in its hands
until love isn't dead-stiff anymore
it listens to clocks rattle like a box of bones
and notices that it sounds like its heart in the night.
{i think you already knew that that rattling clock was broken.}
Moira (Excelsior)Moira (Excelsior)
hands clap over my eyes
like a chain clasp
linking lace around my neck.
connecting cheer
and our clutch.
splitting into a wide upward curve,
canines and incisors cut through screens.
time rotates in a downward degree
360 degrees infinitely,
but the days are confined to finite.
and if i could, i'd connect the 12 lines
and walk along them endlessly.
i'd lose the ability to dream
and i'd never have to mingle
with the cousin of death.
living forever as a verb,
until time laps around the track
about 10 million times before
it has lost its legs.
i don't wanna sleep,
i want to dream
in an empirical reality.
hold the old time in my hand
and let the prospect bleed
into the prophecy.
~~~
PowerfulWriting is a group meant to help writers grow into their own style and voice. Our focus is not showcasing so much as improving, with an emphasis on giving feedback. Anyone can join. We accept (almost) all work into the gallery where it stays (and is critiqued) for one month, at which point the piece is removed and the author can feel more confident submitting their work to showcase groups.
~~~
As a writer we strive to conquer that dreaded Writer's Block. I challenge you to select one of the following six images to use for inspiration and create a prose piece or a poem based off of that image. Please link your work below and I would love to feature it in the following edition.
Created by the lovely GiovannyArce
Taken by the stunning YOKOKY
Captured by the marvelous AlicjaRodzik
~~~
"The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page."
~~~
Thank you kindly for joining me in this feature and if you enjoyed what you were able to view here today, please favorite or comment below - it will be much appreciated. Share the love - support your fellow artist.
featured literature group.
They are out there - please check them out <3PowerfulWriting is a group meant to help writers grow into their own style and voice. Our focus is not showcasing so much as improving, with an emphasis on giving feedback. Anyone can join. We accept (almost) all work into the gallery where it stays (and is critiqued) for one month, at which point the piece is removed and the author can feel more confident submitting their work to showcase groups.
~~~
Visual Inspiration - A Prompt of Sorts
As a writer we strive to conquer that dreaded Writer's Block. I challenge you to select one of the following six images to use for inspiration and create a prose piece or a poem based off of that image. Please link your work below and I would love to feature it in the following edition.
Created by the lovely GiovannyArce
Taken by the stunning YOKOKY
Captured by the marvelous AlicjaRodzik
~~~
"The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page."
-- Augustine of Hippo
"Shot by the talented e-liss I am startled by the vivid blue hues that truly capture the mind, heart, and soul of the viewer (no matter how cliche it may seem). Absorbed and in complete awe, I was swept away to Oldedalen, Norway."
"Created by the awesome Sleax and blended so perfectly I forgot momentarily that it is in fact a photomanipuation! Wherever this fantasy-inspired land may be, I was able to travel to that time and place. I can almost feel the spray of water from the falls."
"Composed by the fantastic yamiooo. I was drawn in immediately by the haunting colors. Contrast to the previous images, this creation elicited a feeling quite different."
~~~
A Warm Embrace - Until Next Time
Thank you kindly for joining me in this feature and if you enjoyed what you were able to view here today, please favorite or comment below - it will be much appreciated. Share the love - support your fellow artist.
Older and Wiser...I think?
Fourteen years ago, I discovered DeviantArt—a website that would shape who I am as a woman and who I am as a writer. Looking back on my old prose and poetry, I feel a pang of longing for that young girl I once was. She crafted stories clumsily written, using a vocabulary too advanced for her own good. Pulchritudinous. Erogenous. Her mind was lost in the next story or the latest chapter. This community watched me grow over the past decade. I built @Authors-Club, recruited a following, and wove my way through the literature family. I'm eternally grateful for every one of you who has helped me hone my skills or gave me the figurative pat on the back that I needed. Now, I'm trying to find my voice again—a voice I silenced over the last four years. My style has changed. My grammar has evolved. And, I have matured. Writing has always been my outlet. Coupled with my daily gratitude journals, I will slowly begin finding my voice through writing like I did so many years ago. Cheers to
The Post-grad Life
I did it, my dA family. I graduated college!
The past four years have been a hellish rollercoaster ride. I hit a few barrel rolls, a couple loops, and I nearly derailed a few times, but I made it through the ride.
It's been 10 days since I graduated with my degree in multimedia journalism and a minor in public relations. I still can't believe it. I wake up at 7 a.m. and brew a pot of coffee, which I will drink in its entirety, to sit in front of my laptop and process my accomplishments over the past four years.
Now, I'm in a post-grad funk and half-assing my job search. I've been doing a lot of soul searching, drinking, and writing. While
A Year Wiser
This on-again-off-again relationship with DeviantArt is for the birds. I dearly miss my dA family.
I've been away nearly one year. I visit this site wiser, yet, more heartbroken than before. The beginning of the year was uneventful. I genuinely don't remember what happened during the spring semester. But these past few months put me through the wringer: my first true heartbreak, a fumble with alcohol, my struggle with grades and loads of college stress that I wasn't prepared to handle.
At 21 years old, I'm finally beginning to experience just how much of a rollercoaster life can be. I'm off a double-barrel roll and gliding to the finish lin
Let's date
I've been on deviantART for quite a few years now, and I thought it would be nice to write up a little blog entry about me. No, no - not in a narcissistic way. *cough cough* Let's consider this a date.
Hey, my name is Samantha. But call me Sam - that's not a request; it's a damn demand. Don't get me wrong, I love my name. But, for some reason, I just don't believe "Samantha" fits me, you know?
Music is life.
I, like, love AC/DC. I was blessed with the chance to see them live before Brian Johnson left. BLESSED. I'm a complete classic rock fan.
You can find me jamming in my car to Styx, ZZ Top, Led Zepplin and Nazareth. Music is a daily occur
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© 2014 - 2024 amour-raven
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Wonderful features. Great pieces here.