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.Lost2 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
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
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
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
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.
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
Childhood DustChildhood Dust2 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
CompanionShe lay close beside him,Companion2 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 -
Forbidden LoveStaring deep into your eyes I can see itForbidden Love2 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.
Broken ButterfliesI opened my mouth and coughed out the wingsBroken Butterflies2 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.
Counting Memories of YouLately I've been going on dates with boys. I say boys because not one of them measures up to the man you were. Sure, some of them have been beautiful. One even had a British accent, which made me melt into a puddle of goo on the floor. But for some reason they all disappear, ignoring my phone calls, ignoring my text messages. I guess it could have been something that I did or said, but I like to think it's because they aren't man enough for me. It really gets me thinking about you, and all the ways you made me feel invincible. It's on days like today when I'm feeling useless and depressed that I often count the things that remind me of you.Counting Memories of You2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
i. The first winter snow
Do you remember our first date? I remember it was sometime in the end of January. We walked around my neighborhood for ages talking about our lives. You were wearing a t-shirt; I was wearing a winter jacket. You told me that you never get cold, and I laughed because I knew that was bullshit. The way you were trying
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,
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.
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
A Writer's Love-StoryHe was finally smiling. It seems like forever since I've been able to see that cute smile of his. Unfortunately, it wasn't his best smile. When he usually smiles his bright blue eyes light up even more then they do regularly and sometimes I can see his shiny white teeth.A Writer's Love-Story2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"How was the test in math?" I asked him taking another bite of my sandwich. He shrugged telling me that he wasn't sure how well he did. "I think I did terribly. I didn't understand half the questions on there. I don't think Mr. Anber ever taught us about what formula to use for problem 44." I told him he gave a light laugh at the mutual hate that we both share for our math teacher. "So have you written anymore of Requiem For a Memory?" I asked really wanting to read the end of his suspenseful story. He shook his head then opened his mouth to say something.
"I want you to look over something else before I continue writing that." He said in his deep enchanting voice that he almost never uses.
"Don't tell me you started a
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
18 Candles Come and GoneDon't know when it started18 Candles Come and Gone2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Long before the candles came
Once a year
Believeing that'd this be the year
But it never was
I tell you
I've given up
I'm 18 and it just ain't gonna happen
Friend till the end
Even a boy
Who'd grow into an incridible man
Sweet and funny
Who'd still choose me
I just wanted one
I'll not be greedy
One'll do me fine
It's more then I have now
Anyone who is good
Who knows my flaws and my pain
Who loves me anyway
That's my wish
To be loved by someone just once
Before I go
A year of love
One loved one
To live out a fairytale
I dreamed up as a little girl
A Birthday celerbation where no wish is needed I'm happy as I am
Halloween we'll dress up and turn the house it'd a haunted one
Thanksgiving food, fire, and lots of laughs
Christmas a big beautiful tree and train set, cookies...even better cookie dough, lights al
Audreydear girl i sit by in englishAudrey2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
this is for you.
this is for you because you are
the dreamer of impossible dreams, and the
doer of improbable things.
this is for you, because
you balance on two legs when your life
is spinning out of control
and poetry will always confuse you.
you love fudge brownies like you love
every single guy you like.
for so long, the only thing i knew about you
was the fact that you liked reptiles in second grade.
this is for you, because
you walk around swim meets without pants
and brush your hair in the bathroom before lunch.
you're a mess of contradictions and the most
securest insecure person i have ever met.
this is for you because
i still feel guilty about the reptile thing and
you once begged me to use the line,
"you played fruit ninja with my heart" in a love poem.
this is for you because
you told me in third grade that
grace, everyone has the thing they're best at—
ady's the artist, you're the writer, mili's the smartest.
what am i? what's my niche?
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
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 Owl2 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
USA stranger you were once.US3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Then, with a gentle look you took my hand.
As our lives engaged,
you lit my life and I held both your hands.
You're my man, my mighty king,
And I'm the jewel in your crown,
For you I would climb
The highest mountain peak
Swim the deepest ocean
For you I would cross
The rivers most wide
Walk the hottest desert sand
To have you by my side.
For you are the one
Who makes me whole
You've captured my heart
And touched my soul.
For you are the one
That stepped out of my dreams
Gave me new hope
Showed me what love means.
For you alone
Are my reason to live
For the compassion you show
And the care that you give.
You came into my life
And made me complete
Each time I see you
My heart skips a beat.
TrustSometimes you have to trustTrust1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
To walk a few feet ahead
In the dark
Because you’re not alone
A few steps by yourself
And he’ll wait
He’ll be there for you
Be your guide
But you have to trust
Even in the dark
The Parable of the PigThe Parable of the PigThe Parable of the Pig2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
By: Matthew Whiting
In the fields of a lovely glade, there lived six animals. Five of these animals were the most beautiful and exquisite of their species. Horse was an elegant creature with deep, hazel eyes and a chocolate brown coat. Falcon proudly boasted a majestic plumage of shimmering gold and silver feathers. Ox was a handsome and brawny creature with thick, curling horns and a voice like the deep rumbling of thunder. Panther was the feline embodiment of absolute excellence, with dark, silky fur and claws that gleamed like gemstones.
Snake was perhaps the most remarkable of all the animals. She was a born leader with a sharp wit and the charisma to match. She dazzlingly displayed vibrant scales that glowed every color imaginable: Ocean blue, Parma violet, golden orange, and candy-apple red. She was known as the wisest of all the animals. She could solve the trickiest of equations in the blink of an eye, she could recite every proverb and saying ever writte
SacrificeThe old temple of ancient god Set was in almost complete ruin. Once the god resided here with his maidens and priestesses but now only the desert wind was playing with the walls and making the strange, cry-like sounds. On the ruined and cracked floor, on one of the broken columns was seating young red-haired man in white robes and black leather trousers with a lot of chains. He had this malicious smile on face that was the sign he had something...well, malicious on his mind. On the ground was kneeling young woman; she was crying.Sacrifice2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Say my name" the man said it with amusement in his voice.
The woman stopped crying for a second and looked with fear in her eyes on the red-haired man. The man didn't expect her to co-operate that soon; he leaned in his seat and crossed his arms.
"So you are the sacrificial lamb" he laughed. "I will never understand these peasants. I won't stop killing them, even if they bring me all their beautiful women they have. Village after village, town after town...I