i should've noticedi first noticed youi should've noticed2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
my computer had
(maybe my new headphones
had played it a simple
whimpering to the song
i listened to
when i first noticed
the green tracing
(oh, please, play the cello,
i'm becoming comatose)
when i was five,
your legs were smooth
(razorblades can shave, too)
and i should've noticed
the harbor your words
you weren't one of those
underneath my pink
i wasn't ashamed of
i know why you'd yell,
and when i'd trace
the white frost
against my window sill,
there were no
i should've noticed you,
Forbidden LoveStaring deep into your eyes I can see itForbidden Love3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
These feelings are so real they want to break free from my skin.
You can see right into me
I'm an open book to you.
Your sky blue eyes pierce right to my heart
I could look into them all day.
But I cannot for love is forbidden.
And I know that this is love for they have taught me every feeling but this
It is more beautiful than any feeling I have ever felt
You take my hand and squeeze it tight
Knowing that they cannot erase our feelings
We hide together to talk all day
Afraid that they may find us
And wipe it away
But fear cannot destroy this feeling
I will break the law and Love.
Because I cannot live a day without you
We decide it is time to leave
We cannot hide this forever
So we lie down together and fall asleep
Forever in each other's arms
Forever holding my Forbidden Love.
FadeFade2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in the sand
in a cloud
two pieces to mend,
in devouring crowd
and of space
and of haze
the tides will turn,
and leave nothing that stays
waves will rise,
while destiny falls
at the end of horizon,
only memory calls
its lying within
so long, has it been
the last rays of sun,
kiss the sea good bye,
one spark, one breath
one look in the eye,
says whenever, whatever,
the very last ride
we are staying together,
in all our pride
Blue StarI could say the same thing in a different wayBlue Star2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
all over again
but now I'm at peace with myself
I feel like you know it
everything about how I love you
I have fought so long for this
all over the snowy ground my tracks are found
I built fires to keep myself warm
when you wouldn't
I used yarn to make myself whole
when you couldn't
now I step away from the fight
to see if I can shine by myself tonight
alone by choice
Is that even true
does anyone choose loneliness
besides a star glowing blue?
burning through water
like a murky refrain
dripping the sadness
and fueled by it's pain
LostI walked in. The room swirled around me. The bare desolate walls splashed with muddy brown paint. It was as if the walls were gossiping about me, my ears began to burn. The high ceilings white as paper closing in on me. The window blew open the slight breeze lifting my hair. The sofa sat at a side looking as if it was whispering to the walls. Its cushioning arms looking rigid. A grand painting was stuck on the wall. It was a painting I couldn't understand. The vivid colours collided in to each other. Its frame was rigid and stiff like it had been hung there for years. The painting stood out, it wasn't supposed to be here. As i glanced around the room the fact that I was alone came back to me. The feeling of alienation crept over me.Lost3 years ago in Settings More Like This
Suddenly the wind began howling with anger and desperation. The curtains shivering like the wind and coldness affected them. I wrapped my coat around me the piercing wind biting at my delicate skin. I felt uneasy. The blood
half-priced whoremaybe in fifty years,half-priced whore2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
she will stop feeling his finger-shaped bruises
on her hips and arms.
stop hearing his words—you think you can stop me, little girl?—
in every passing "are you okay?".
stop feeling the wind like a ghost of his acid breath
on the back of her neck
beautiful, beautiful, beautiful little girl.
maybe fifty thousand dove soap bars later
and too many scalding showers
and dusty baby blankets and days spent lying in bed,
looking up at the water stained ceiling,
will be enough to leave the man
on the corner of anderson street and rosa parks avenue
right where she never wanted to find him.
just ask her, she knows first hand
that worlds don't end in bangs but
she knows what it's like to die with a fist
over your mouth and fear in your nostrils.
pretend she is made out of ashes and paper thin words—mourn
the loss of her innocence, her freedom, her control.
cast her out into the ocean to dissolve among the waves,
find her a god dirty enough
End RemembranceEnd Remembrance3 years ago in Historical More Like This
Remembrance Day originates at the end of World War I. The idea is to honor those who died in the line of duty, defending their country from enemies. For all its pompous words and fancy granite memorials littered with colorful flower bouquets, Remembrance Day and others like it have failed miserably in achieving this goal.
I've often been criticized as having no respect, and that can be an impediment when discussing certain topics. However, I am often in luck – hypocrisy deserves no respect. What changed as a result of the enormous sacrifice of those who died in WW1? As the first bombs of WW2 fell just two decades later, millions once again obediently lined up under various pieces of colored cloths to slaughter and be slaughtered. It became obvious that absolutely nothing had changed, and that the millions of WW1 had died in vain.
Most would agree that all that lip service paid to the sacrifice between the two world wars wasn't good enough. To truly honor their sacrifice would be
ImpossibleI promised not to love again,Impossible2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
not anyone at all,
no matter how cute and handsome,
no matter how perfectly tall.
But here you come out of the blue,
and you have done everything right,
now I find myself wishing you'd love me,
and I can't help but think you might.
It's funny sometimes how we meet,
We always seem to end up in the same place,
even in a giant crowd,
I can always spy your face.
I can't help but wonder,
if you feel this way too,
can you hear our two voices as one?
Because I sure do.
The Good Critic's GuideThe Good Critic's Guide:The Good Critic's Guide2 years ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
I have noticed that many critics on DA tend to leave rather harsh and sometimes subjective critiques on the pages of the artists being critiqued. Their rationale for doing so is based on the concept that 'we shouldn't molly-coddle each other and instead "tell it like it is"'. However this type of critique reflects poorly on one who is critiquing as opposed to the one who is being critiqued and I will explain why throughout the course of this guide. In essence I hope to use this resource as a way of teaching potential critics how to properly focus their abilities and direct their critiques in a manner that will allow them to be rated as a good critic.
Note: Before reading on, take note that this guide is only for literary works as I have no experience judging visual art and therefore cannot create a rating scale for those.
II. The Purpose of a Critique:
The first question that we must ask ourselves is this: "Why does an individu
Growing Up AngryIt was so easy to criticize her. The fact that she could smile when everything around her was shit proved to me she wasn't trying hard enough. She had silk hair and clean, shiny nails and god damn, I hated her for that. We were twins, but the way I saw it I got the short end of the stick in every way. I was young, and didn't know any better.Growing Up Angry3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
She knew I felt that way, and she just took every cruel word I dished out. It was, I guess, her price for freedom. She'd come home after a date with her boyfriend, and I'd be helping little Connor with his homework on the floor, and I'd see her happy face and the anger that was always, always there would turn my vision red. I'd call her a whore, ask her why she bothered to come back when all she did was take up space. I'd scream and bitch, but she always just stood there and took it until our little brothers started crying, begging me to stop. I hated being angry all the time, so I blamed her for that too
I hit her once. Just once, but I've never f
Childhood DustChildhood Dust3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Being a child is the easiest thing on earth
Being a child is the hardest thing on earth
It is laughing and smiling
It is crying and sobbing
It is living emotion
It can be so beautiful
It can also be cruel
Being a child is innocence
Being innocence is vulnerable
Being vulnerable is hurt
Being hurt is what no child should be
Being a child is innocence
Being innocence is joy
Being joy is happiness
Being happy is what every child should be
How it Crumbles"How it Crumbles"How it Crumbles2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
When I write, it feels like I'm in a blank room. It's not a very big room, nor is it especially small; it's the size of an average high-school classroom. The room has white walls, a white ceiling, a white floor, and one four-inch-by-eight-inch window that sits in the upper right-hand corner of the easternmost wall. Situated in the northernmost wall, there is a thick metal door that I believe is made out of iron. Slightly off-center towards the westernmost wall rests a dark, hardwood desk with a matching chair. Both pieces of furniture are constructed of simple right angles and don't have any particular sense of luxury about them; the chair's seat is a basic, cushionless, grooveless, square slab of wood and the desk is actually a bit high for me and probably better fit for a man.
The desk has two drawers. One drawer is locked without its mating key and the other contains a fountain pen, a scrap of paper with meaningless dates
WishbonesIt was 5am, and the sun was only beginning to hit the windows as she said to me, I think I wrote a poem about you.Wishbones2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
And I said, how does it go?
It goes like this, she said, and it was beautiful.
It was shooting stars, pulled wishbones and a thousand things unfulfilled, all blown birthday candles and dandelion clocks; the superstitions we embrace so that sometimes, for a few seconds, we're allowed to have any dream we want despite it all.
At the beginning it was the regret for things, said and unsaid, breaking into sharp pieces in our palms so we could never hold them; then it was a confession, and then a heartbreaking demand, only to know whether it could ever begin or be stopped; and the final line led me up into her eyes.
They were like the sea looks in all the magazines, the colour you buy expensive tickets to swim in for two weeks: clearwater oceans, the kind of world we know less about the bottom of than we do about the surface of our moon. She was too true and clear a sea, unrippl
WriterIt's my drugWriter3 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
The one that drives me away
From it all
It's like a shoot
Draws me to an addiction
Writing is my addiction
It pulls me away
And it feels good
Writing is my addiction
chromaWe were merely children when the stars came.chroma3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
They rained down from the sky in a burst of light, like shards of glass pouring down from the heavens. Supernovas blooming in the night sky, petals raining down onto the barren earth - angels, falling with their wings sheathed, glowing, as they glided down. We watched, starstruck, as the glow overtook us - we were mesmerized. We waited with bated breath as the meteors landed, the celestial light subsiding as dark forms started to pick themselves up from the dust.
They moved towards us with an otherworldly grace, their steps leaving no marks on the earth as they descended upon us. Frozen to our spots as they approached, our bodies simply unresponsive in their wake. We were paralyzed. They stretched out their wings, embracing us in a softness unimaginable - a polymerization of silky feathers made of pure light, like a soft touch of a rose petal - and suddenly, our eyes were opened. The world was the same, yet so new, as it was washed with a gl
Your Eyes.They say the eyes are a window to one's soul.Your Eyes.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
How lucky I was to discover these windows, so long unopened,
shut tightly and lacking trust, faith, truth and love.
What a pleasing adventure to pry those windows open
only to see an even greater beauty past the sullied glass.
Such overwhelming emotion that had been waiting to escape.
Such love merely resting until everything fell into place.
Such meek kindness and sweet, tentative affection.
Who am I to be the recipient of such wonders?
The content companion of one so lovely, as inwardly as out.
Oh, if only the glass were a mirror,
reflecting back in a bid for triumphant realization;
a vow to not leave until this vain hope is achieved;
a promise to illustrate what magnificence lies within.
You, darling, are so beautiful.
CompanionShe lay close beside him,Companion3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
at nights intertwined,
She asked him no favor,
he offered his life.
When stricken with torment,
her image brought peace,
Assured that her presence,
would bring great relief.
Patient and waiting,
her stillness his faith,
Their journey predestined,
Just one soul to take.
And at the end,
with one final breath,
he spoke only her name,
calling softly for -
A GirlBrown hairA Girl3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A girl you don,t know
Who has so much
and yet so little
Life as been bad
and great at time
a sister and two brother
along with a large family
that her loves her
a smile that everyone loves
Just who is this Girl?
Heaven's Dictionary Part I: Woman Heaven's Dictionary Entry I: WomanHeaven's Dictionary Part I: Woman3 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
The World's Dictionary Entry: Wo-man [Woe man] (noun) A female human. Emotionally unstable and flighty. Superficial, too talkative, overbearing. Only worth it if when they're " Smokin' hot", if not then they are useless.
Heaven's Dictionary Entry: Woman [Whoa man!] (In a league of their own!) Daughters of the almighty God, whose individual beauty outshines all the stars in the universe and whose births are heralded by all the angels in Heaven. They are "More precious than rubies", and "In their tongue is the law of kindness". The mothers of all. Spiritual powerhouses who absolutely dominate! God's last and greatest gift to the world.
1. The New Kid "The thing is I've liked you even before I started coming to this school and I thought I should tell you just in case you maybe possibly liked me back." Words gushed out of the girl's mouth. "Well what I'm trying to say is will you go out with me, Jace?"1. The New Kid3 years ago in Romance More Like This
Jace Herondalea blond heartbreaker always subject of many confessionssmiled at the brunette confessing. To him, she was just another girl. "Sorry you're just not my type." He shrugged. "Your friend Alice on the other hand " He trailed off. With his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans, he strode off just as the bell for first period rang.
Jace plunked down in his usual seat: third column, second row. He winked at one of the girls visibly staring at him. He was use to it. Being hot and popular wasn't easy, especially when it came to him.
Chocolate ChaosRandom pastry movement: brownie in motion.Chocolate Chaos4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Good EveningGood Evening2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Good evening to the cliff
The one that leers above
Challenging the leap
With rubbles that tumble down
With broken hearts that finally shatter
Good evening to the sky
The one that widens 'round
Surrounding with their spattered skies
With black blooded stains
With white flaring scorns of disdain
Good evening to the sea
The one that trembles below
Waving final sayings, tides of goodbyes
With swirls of treachery
With educing calls of end
Good evening to the world
The one that doesn't care if she drowns
Ignoring her sadness, her tears, her pain
With closed ears to cries
With hearts made of stone
Broken ButterfliesI opened my mouth and coughed out the wingsBroken Butterflies3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Throwing up the colors,
From once beautiful things.
They crawl up my throat,
And pry through my teeth,
Revealing the darkness,
I've hid underneath.
Her words echo in my head,
I try to stand.
But fall instead.
They no longer had that fluttery feel.
I guess the love had lost its appeal.
I cough and clutch at the hole in my chest.
Is this just love at its best?
She said she hates the world.
But I know she loves it so,
I have seen her on the hill,
With the evening afterglow.
She feeds them with my beating heart
Like the sweetest tart.
While clutching at the hole in her chest,
Causing them to swarm in unrest.
Their wings are black and broken
Like words unspoken,
They flutter by silently
She stands atop the hill secluded.
While I watch her from the gate.
Next to the forgotten roads,
In the evening when it's late.
Passed where yellow flowers grow,
With all our secrets kept in the glow.
The OwlThe world was a cruel place, and humans were even crueler. No matter who you are, you all strive and struggle to come off as an illusion, or as the good guy. There are the good, the bad and the ugly, majority of it is ugly. Hidden under kindness, hidden over every other emotion. And any other human being, is no exception, to monsters who may stand to reason over the world. The monsters inside, the monsters we are constantly fighting, what's the point?The Owl3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I held on tight to my school books as I walked through the gate, making sure not to loose them in the wind. Bucknear academy, was a boarding school, in the middle of the forest. Surrounding us was a large forest, and beyond that, was a rounded fence, to where none of the students could escape, not even climb, because of the electrical current going through it. Most of the students here, like me, had been sent as a rehab as "bul