This is the first installment of my feature of beautiful writers who have lovely talent here on DeviantArt but are not as well known as some of the other established artists here on dA. This is going to be a daily (or every other day) feature where we are going to showcase three males and three females with their beautiful art.
Support these excellent artists by ing this journal and maybe leaving a comment on some of their works!
A very talented writer who can take on any perspective given to her and write beautiful pieces. She has deviations in her gallery that someone of any age can enjoy!
The Clock's Imprisonment.This fear is beyond what
Human hearts can stand.
The clock's holding a dagger
In his little curved hand.
'Cause we sealed his face behind glass,
His words trapped and alone
Save the tick, tick, tick
Of his heart in his throat.
The second hand races around that gentile face,
Minute hand moves with a calculated grace,
But the hour hand holds the greatest wisdom of all:
s l o w
Lullaby for A Sailor's SonLet the coldest winds kiss you,
The darkest sands keep you.
The arms of Weeping Willow
Cradle you to sleep.
Let a star sit on your shoulder,
Like a sea rover's parrot,
Glowing brightly, nearly burning
Through your soggy shirt.
The one that never dried
After the day your mother cried,
'Cause the ocean stole
Your father's watery soul.
He sunk staight to the bottom,
And they found him in late autumn,
Many months after the water took his breath,
And left his lungs cold.
The Sky's Just As Beautiful for Peasants.It came to me then,
In a moment of bliss
The sky's just as beautiful for peasants
As it is for the prince.
And love evades the royalty
Who married for privilege.
He weeps for the woman
He watched on the dusty streets
Her golden eyes contrasting
With her worn and tired feet.
And all the riches in the world
Cannot buy a good friend,
Or true happiness,
Or a fairytale end.
So I'm inclined to believe
That it's a beautiful thing
That the true riches of the world
Rest an arm's length out of reach.
So the dainty fingers of a pauper
Or a bohemian's gloved hand,
Can each reach out
To close around
Destinies they couldn't ever have planned.
Forever ParallelI sit on solid ground,
A strip of earth between two rivers.
Both gurgling, conversing with their creatures.
Very different shades of blue.
Little fish hop up in the waves of one,
Fireflies dance above the other.
Both are beautiful.
Playing little songs against the stones.
But the ground is not so solid,
And it weakens every day.
It's becoming evident now
I can only go one way.
I know they won't converge again.
It has to be goodbye.
They never really did converge,
Simply ran on either side.
Either way, I'm hurting,
No real happy end.
Both rivers lead to pain, for me,
There's no need to pretend.
It draws deep blood.
I'm guaranteed some tears.
Heartache that drops me like a shock.
It'll be a full goodbye.
I know, ringing permanence in my tired ears.
It's the hurting of a gentile river
That's the source of all the fear.
I know which one I have to choose,
No way around that.
I dip my hand into the crystal blue,
Turn my back on it to a cornflower hue.
Hope there's understandin
A beautiful nineteen year old college student, Caroline expresses her heart and soul in her writings--which is a very admirable trait. It is obvious to tell that she values all of her deviations and that she puts all of her fantastic talent in each piece!
chimesI'm looking up at sand-paper skin and muddy glass eyes and listening to a voice so melancholy it hurts to hear. A voice that rambles like some fairytale forest brook but isn't telling anything mythical or picturesque but definitely a tragic story you'll want to hear again. It's like wind chimes shattering wishes and chirping birds announcing black widow funerals.
Beauty shouldn't kill--shouldn't mask rotting truths, but standing here with bleeding ears, I know it does.
fathomYou are the sun and the moon and every other fucking thing in the world that is magnificent. And god, I love you- The way you burn and burn and burn without falter in your steps. You smile as though you don't even know who you are or that you've got nothing left to lose. I can't fathom what to say to that because you are all I have to lose.
You have to understand that no matter what happens in the future
No hell-fire or Armageddon could keep me from being at your side,
Destroying your hungry demons, and smoothing your harsh edges.
Every moment you're devouring my organs; chipping my bones.
So dig your fingers into my skin and scream into me.
Crush me and fill me with everything you've got.
igniteYour skin is hot enough to i g n i t e this entire world and yet you sleep curled against my f r o s t b i t t e n shoulder blades. You burn in your slumber and I spend my nights beating the sparking, s m o l d e r i n g edges of our cotton sheets. Myths written on linen and stone describe you as golden with tan-skin and muddy-eyes, but lover, I know you for the t r u t h. You are the c h a r c o a l of where the sun has pressed too close. You are the olive branches of peace and the violence of the c h a r r e d leaves. You are staining my forearms with the feral licks of your ebony-hair and are painting my sides with the s o o t of your fingertips. You are a single match b u r n i n g a globe.
If you wanted to know what elegance was, the only thing I could lead you to was this beautiful girl's page! With such beautiful, sweet, and delicate deviations, she is the epitome of classic femininity and all of her beautiful pieces of art reflect that.
:thumb343192093: :thumb343166002: :thumb343241348: :thumb342877298:
A wonderful writer who is currently experimenting in many different poetry forms at the moment. Each piece, however, is enjoyable and will always stir an emotion within you, as soon as you read the first line!
Govinda, to his teachings, held.
The spirits stirred; Atman, revoked--
Desire deterred, and self dispelled.
Beneath the oak where wisdom dwelled,
DFC Reject - Day 3 - This Island We've CreatedShe steps foot onto grainy ocean plain,
And casts her wayward eyes into the sea.
"This island we've created," she complains,
"Has nothing in its sands but shame for me."
The ropes around her naked neck unwind.
She lays by those once-stringent strings of twine,
And waits until climax of the day
To let the boiling waves bore her away.
DFC Day 12 - And to think we're worthyWe are met by scholars, saints, and dignitaries,
Those transient passers-by, soon crossing over,
Visitors with hopes for greater days and brighter dusks.
A higher order walks around and amongst us,
Wistfully setting bars and turning heads upward;
We are met by scholars, saints, and dignitaries.
No regard to those beneath their humbled, holy feet,
They take absent-minded routes to their shelters,
Those transient passers-by, soon crossing over.
Their blood is not yours or mine, but sanctified and just,
They take not thanks nor talk of lower aspirations,
Visitors with hopes for greater days and brighter dusks.
FlightWe came together like strangers boarding a plane,
crammed next to each other, stubbornly unwilling to
take our seats, vehemently demanding to get off the cab,
confused about the flight and nervous about the takeoff,
unsure of everything yet to come, except that soon,
in an instant, before we'd know it, we would be
In the air, locked into place, and sealed in our fates.
We weren't overjoyed in the ascent, as we
nervously gripped the arms of our seats, and stared
down at the ephemeral landscape below us,
wasting away in the arms of a fading twilight.
But as the steel bird roared and evened its wings,
we realized that even as scared as we might have been...
We were flying. And there was no way back to earth.
The flight soon expanded. It wasn't a necessity anymore;
it was an adventure--each dip, a new world to explore;
every dive, another lesson learned. We found out
that our neighbors were more than strangers
with the same obligations as ours, but friends and lovers
and rivals, all travel
Writer to the Raining Blood Saga, he is a wonderful poet whose words should always be heard. He is a very talented individual, whose work is always steadily improving!
Because of you
I have days where I want to hide,
Lock my doors and just stay inside.
Days where I want to fly,
Spread my wings and glide.
Moments when I want to leave,
You'd never believe.
I have nights when I am broken,
silly words from the overly outspoken.
Nights when it's all too much,
My head fills with nonsense and such.
Times when I wanna go,
Get in that car and follow the snow.
I have thoughts that betray my mind,
images of a negative kind.
A youth corrupted by words of hurt,
Ideas that make my flaws alert.
But I have good thoughts too,
Ones that make me think of you.
I have days when I think of you,
My nights are filled with those thoughts too.
Not all of my nights are filled with doubt,
Regardless my mind still shouts.
But when you're around it is silent,
My thoughts are no longer violent.
Because of you, my heart can be pure,
It is of you that I have never been so sure.
ForeverWhen all that's known becomes broken
The things left unspoken
Whisper in the night.
With bitter hearts and clouded judgement
Where is the justice
in being alone?
So I'll stay here and be with you
Until you don't want me to
I'll leave you alone
I've thought this through
I want to be with you
You've made me walk in the screaming night
Through the bitter cold
I've seen the worse of things not right
You've broken my hold
I'll find a way to run away
I'll keep you in my memory
The Golden Door
In my mind, I can see
I am free from misery.
My eyes are open, my path unsure.
What's behind that Golden Door?
They say it's great, they say it's a lie
Wonder has stolen their peace of mind.
I will continue to walk, rest assured
My path of life away from that door.
The paths of life are never ending.
All the way, contradicting.
My path has crossed with the door.
I open it, so unsure
Of what's to see beyond that door.
The door creaks open, my eyes adjust
To a sight I thought would be unjust.
My greatest dreams lie ahead,
better than my first path instead.
I walk the path of the Golden Door.
That of which, I first ignored.
The lesson here is very clear:
Do not run based on what you hear.
This heart is broken, shattered to pieces.
All hope I had, no longer increases.
Comfort was not your greatest belief
Nor was love your favorite motif.
Our paths were separate, always apart.
But never together, like we were in the start.
With things not done, and words unspoken,
slowly my heart becomes unbroken.
This heart it remains, unaffected.
Although my mind has become defected.
I'll walk alone, I don't need you.
My dream has never really required two.
Company is nice, in fact, it's grand.
But you twisted my words, like you were breaking my hand.
Your words were lies, that I believed.
This heart. It was very naive.
While a new member to DeviantArt, this writer is very talented, and is budding and improving with every new deviation.
a robin's insight -- haibunI am the robin who protects these woods, ever watching; never sleeping. My daily routine is to stare at the humans who tread along this path. Clumsy beasts that seem to not realize the plants they bump and bugs they stomp. Why must such a being intrude, when it has so much all ready? They can not sing, they can not dance, they can not soar. Trapped on the ground, with no way to leave, perhaps that is why they must have the whole thing.
They pluck our berries
clear cut woods and broken homes
staring as we burn.
Open CageI have locked my mind in an open cage,
I hold the key, but the door can not latch.
it does not see harsh reality,
or simplicity of escape.
Instead it ponders what would be
if the past could be rewritten
I have locked my mind in an open cage,
it can not escape.
PensPoet's pens are scalpels
that gently part skin
to allow knowledge of
reality and its mistresses'
to seep into the blood and
find rest in the heart.
When by chance I glance
upon faded lines inscribed
in my body, I remember,
as if it were my Own.
that must mean
my pen is a dull axe,
which cleaves my side
and cracks my bones
to leak foreign letters
upon an empty page.
Nothing I ever wanted.
I crumple my flesh
to start over again.
Home, at lastThere was no wind,
the trees were still.
the lake glass
that reflects the horizon.
Birds fly in large lazy loops
in search of the answer
they never can find.
I enter the water,
the cold a lover's embrace
sapping my strength
feeding me ease.
for the first time, I am calm
I plunge into the abyss
to never return.
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