You're Not A Writer or PoetYou’re Not A WriterYou're Not A Writer or Poet1 year ago in Emotional More Like This
You may write, but you’re not a writer. You may claim you pour every ounce of feeling into your words, every bit of emotion into your phrases, but you’re a liar.
You can never connect, because you don’t feel. You don’t feel your writing, you don’t feel the letters rolling off of the pen, or the meaning pounded into your keys.
At the end of the day, you sit and stare at a template, a document. Hundreds of faves, even more comments, snickering behind your computer.
But you aren’t a writer, because all you have is an emotionless template.
You write not for enjoyment, or your own personal emotion,
But for fame, for attention, just to make a statement. To make that front page.
Your writing is nothing to you.
Like a celebrity who creates slaves with her twists and lies,
You’re a writer that gives people false hope, but all you can do is laugh and mock them for how stupid they are.
And the next day, you do it all again.
Mermaid Tails (tf)Mermaid Tails (tf)1 month ago in Short Stories More Like This
Fionaesque swam laps in the swim teams training pool for her next competition. She practiced her breast stroke, butterfly, and freestyle in her training swimwear. Her school had a shot for the state competition, and while she was not the fastest on her team she gave them some depth and hopes to keep other schools off the podium. The swimmer wanted to be faster, but no matter how hard she trained, she only barely just broke her best records. Fiona pulls herself out of the pool sitting on the edge taking off her cap and goggles. Her friend, Marnie, clicked a stopwatch and threw her a towel, “You shaved off a half second Shark-Bait.”
Fiona shrugged taking a moment to rest her burning muscles and ease her breathing, “Eh, little by little Marlin.”
Marnie smiled at the nickname and helped her up “Here, let me give you a ride home.”
Fiona dried off as she followed Marnie to her car. She wrapped the towel around her waist and reached to the back to grab a sh
How Not to Write Love InterestsUPDATE: READ THE NEW EXTENSION TO THIS POST. LINK IN DESCRIPTION!How Not to Write Love Interests1 year ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
Despite the few who haven't caught on yet and still believe that "kids hate reading," we all know that these days, reading is popular.
"I'm just like Belle from Beauty in the Beast, because I love books," teenage girls are saying, while teens of both genders are sitting down to enjoy things like Percy Jackson, Harry Potter, Hunger Games, Eragon, Lord of the Rings and other more obscure titles.
This is just what we've been hoping for, isn't it? Kids and teens finally taking an interest in literature. It has finally become cool. They're thinking of themselves as rebels or nerds or hipsters, all of which are just new versions of the word cool.
Ah, finally people are spending their time having actual constructive hobbies.
...Or are they?
Here I am going to explore just how this isn't necessarily true; how sometimes your time can be better spent playing a good, mind-building video game or watching a wholesome, creative
To The OutcastsTo the outcasts,To The Outcasts1 year ago in Emotional More Like This
Who are disabled,
To the outcasts,
Who are judged for their sexual orientation, gay, bisexual, transgender or lesbian.
To the outcasts,
Who don’t side with LGTB but yet are scorned for their opinions.
To the outcasts,
Who are called ‘heritics’ or ‘close’ mined for traditions and beliefs
To the outcasts,
Who are “condemned to hell” because of their no beliefs.
To the outcast,
Who are forgotten, abused, beaten
To the outcast,
That hurt inside,
To the outcasts,
Who are poor,
To the outcasts,
That don’t think they have a chance.
This is for you because you are worth so much more than the people who put you down.
You are so much more than what you think you are.
Sure, people exclude you, curse at you, hurt you, all sorts of stuff. But so what? Don’t let it get to you, because we’ve all been through it, and it hurts right there? Doesn’t it? You’re thinking of it aren’t you, the time where you
My HeartMy HeartMy Heart1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
It has so many scars
From those that harm
I protected it with bars
It is hard to disarm
For me to feel
I'm sorry I can't return
Even if you're in tears
My heart has been too burned
It is now black and cold
Sometimes it's not there
From my lips, it is untold
But in my eyes, it is bared
My pain and loneliness
By anger and coldness
I was neglected
By family and friends
Who expected so much
I was a means to an end
Alone through sadness I went
Nobody gave comfort
They picked me up to give me a shove
Nobody gave support
I wish I could fly away like a dove
The One I Love... .LOTF.Jack sneered. Oh, right, protect Piggy, as you always do The One I Love... .LOTF.7 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Jack, will you shut up! Ralph had snapped. This was too much. Will you get over it? Im not in love with Piggy, I never was, and I never will be! The one I love is
He broke off. The group was in total silence now. He had said too much. Never mind, he muttered, the blood rushing up and making his cheeks ruddy. Assembly dismissed. Setting down the conch, he turned on his heel and sped stiffly away.
There was a beat; then, slowly, everyone got up, splitting off into murmuring groups. All except for one boy, who went intently after Ralph.
Ralph had expected to be followed, so he hadnt gone into the bathing pool once he arrived. He sat by the edge, biting the inside of his cheek and cursing himself mentally. It wasnt long before he heard the quiet sound of footfalls on sand behind him.
He didnt look up when Jack sat next to him, tho
WarmthMy body cringesWarmth3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
when I see the blade.
The heart quickens,
slowly onto my skin.
rattles its bars,
wanting to break free.
But it is held back.
No, relapse hasn't happened.
It roars in impatience,
but addiction has not
taken over again...
Pure explosions of love.
They surround me.
They suppress and many times
defeat addiction and depression.
They are what keeps me going.
Though, even with all that,
it can be hard to tame
the beast of addiction and
the tormentor of depression.
Addiction and depression
often catch and pin me down
slowly, destroying me,
but warmth grabs a hold
and pushes the two off.
And this warmth,
is why I can stand here
as it wraps around me.
My hands entangled with
warmth's hands bring
Ch.19: Birthday and memoriesCh.19: Birthday and memories4 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Lost in the screams of pain is a chapter story,
All the stories are about fragments out of Zuko's and Iroh's lives.
It's Zuko's fifteenth birthday today, Iroh thinks about some good memories. Mai's life has been changed.
Iroh is sixty-four,
Zuko is fifteen,
Mai is fourteen.
Lost in the screams of pain,
Chapter 19: Birthday and memories.
The sun rose up above the great ocean, it was midwinter today.
Iroh lay on his bed, he enjoyed the first little sun rays, they where shining through his window, filled his room with happiness.
Iroh thought with a huge smile.
Iroh closed his eyes and thought about his two young boys.
Iroh couldn't help it, but he felt so happy.
Today, he felt the presence of Lu Ten.
Iroh stood up, dressed himself and went downstairs. Prince Zuko waited for his uncle, he sat at the table. Waited patiently for their breakfast.
"Good morning, Prince Zuko!" Iroh said happy.
Zuko turned his head and gave his uncle a tiny smile.
"Today is a special day, isn't it
Rainbows Without PurpleThat little girl, she was always drawing rainbows. Though the shape always changed slightly with each new picture, the general quality remained the same: six arching lines, growing smaller and smaller with each passing of the pencil, would appear on the once-blank canvas. Sometimes clouds would bolster the ends of the rainbows; sometimes the colors would stand alone in the sea of white.Rainbows Without Purple5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
When she colored her creations, only five of the typical six rainbow colors would be invited onto the page: every color but purple.
Some people thought it strange, the lack of violet on the paper, others shrugged in passing, rationalizing that since purple is the bottom color in a rainbow's expanse, it is the easiest to overlook or the most difficult to notice.
One day her teacher asked that little girl why she never touched her purple colored pencil. The girl looked at her teacher, and in a monotone voice that a little girl should never have, she simply answered, "I hate the color purple."
SmartYou say to the insane guy that he is stupid for being insane.Smart3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The insane guy says to you that you are twice as stupid for talking to an insane guy about this.
Dantesers-Dan (Danisnotonfire) and Phil (amazingphil) Pairing Phan-Dantesers2 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Phil was just done editing and recording his new video, and was uploading it to youtube.
"Hey Dan, we should make a new video together soon." Phil poked Dan in the neck.
"Stop it!" Dan almost fell on the floor.
"I don't want to ruin my one million viewers with making a video with you." Dan teased.
"Pfft." Phil looked offended.
"Aw C'mon, are you serious? Don't get offended, I was just kidding you silly goose."
Dan hugged Phil.
"You know, we should tell the viewers Phan is real soon you know."
"You think?" Phil looked suprised. Dan was the one holding back in the Phan secret to the viewers.
"Yeah, sure." Dan said, even though he was slightly worried about people unsubscribing him for that.
"How about we make a new video now?" Phil said and got the camera.
"Yeah, sure." Phil got and helped Phil.
40 minutes later they where done recording the video and Phil was editing it.
"I'm really nervous about what the fans are going to say."
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
9-11I remember the day9-116 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
As if it were now
I awoke to chaos
My only thought was of how?
The planes crashed
And the fires burned
The city churned.
I was still so young
My innocent eyes did see
The attack clearly
Plastered on a T.V.
But when the day came
Did we remember
Those poor souls in Heaven?
Nothing was said
No memories awoken
To memorialize the dead.
The flags along the road
To try and remind
But everyone just passed by
To those deaths we became blind.
September 11, 2009
8 years have passed
But still that day haunts
And it's terrible how
We forget so very fast.
ornithophobia.i.ornithophobia.5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
there were the lights
that startled the rib-
cages that shook with
tiny canaries, asking to
he dragged on his last
sentence and laughed
with his cigarette smoke.
'flutter, flutter,' and he'd
never finish. he'd move
rocks around and call his
birds 'geographers'. he'd
draw lines up from his tibia
to femur to his pelvis and
back down. because touch
made him feel
'&so,' he smoked out a ring
of grey smoke. 'it starts at the
clavicle and passes the sca-
pu-la. ends at the vertebral
column.' the birds looked at
him and didn't respond.
he made a quizzical look. '
why. why. are you so beautiful?'
he shook one of the cages.
'why. why can you fly away,
when i can't?'
the birds looked at him and
he said, 'look.' wind thrashing
his face. he bent down over
the ledge and drew a line from
his tibia to femur to his pelvis and
'i can fly now.'
his legs muscles tightened and
he whistled to the rib cages.
PointesAs a child I dreamed ofPointes6 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
putting on toe shoes and walking,
walking until I traversed an entire city--
until I had a thousand miles under my ribbons.
I went to classes and now I know
dance school is expensive ad I want to
say, "thank you."
I want to say I went on to become a
I want to say every day I wake up and
I put on my toe shoes and
I walk another thousand miles--
but I don't.
I get up in the morning to the alarm,
and I walk across the floor.
I pick up my high top sneakers and
I put them on.
I cannot be a ballerina.
I put on my high tops and I open the door.
Those mean girls I remember,
they had haughty faces when
I had pretty feet.
Dance schools are breeding grounds for
So I get up every morning and
I put on my high top sneakers and
I try to walk another thousand miles
saying, "I am a dancer," but
I am not.
I still have my toe shoes and sometimes
I take them out and put them on.
The ribbons have frayed and
the pink has faded but
they are mine.
They have walke
the closetto my monster: someday is here.the closet5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The Burden of HeartEveryday I am remindedThe Burden of Heart3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Of all the mistakes I've made
Every person I hurt
Every friend I betrayed
All the pain I have caused
Every heart that I broke
I deserve all this torture
For every malicious word I spoke
Every morning I wake
And I look in the mirror
I come face to face
With my biggest terror
Bloodshot eyes filled with tears
They see the suffering and pain
I can never go back
Absolution I can never regain
I am forever condemned
To suffer this guilt
For every choice I made
Can my soul be rebuilt?
How far must I go
To earn my forgiveness
Do I even deserve it?
Maybe my guilt is endless
I beg and I plead
To my knees, I fall
Can't I be somebody else?
As I pound a stone wall
I pound and I pound
The wall will never move
I am who I am
But I do not approve
I will never forget
Every thought within my head
Every memory of regret
Maybe I should be dead...
I scream, I cry, and to the Lord I plead for mercy...
Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow.
we are made of waterThe colors on the wall ebbed into each other, consuming, as the boy licked his lips. He broke into a smile, cracking his mouth open as if it had been made of wax.we are made of water5 years ago in Transgressive More Like This
"Daniel," someone whispered in his ear.
"That's not my name," he mumbled, tumbling back. The wall ceased to move.
"What is it then?" the person asked, slithering their body into his ear. Their tongue ran across his eardrum.
"Julia," he whispered, running his fingers over cartilage.
"Julia," someone repeated, twining their ankle around his. They fell forward, pawing at his shoulders. "Julia," they whispered, clamoring inside his mouth.
Julia licked his lips, coating them in someone else's words.
"Julia," the walls whispered, moving again like a still-damp watercolor, overtaking each other, consuming.
Steal Your ReflectionIn the mirror I stareSteal Your Reflection6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And scrutinize the mistakes
Of my imperfection
I smile, knowing what it will take.
My ratty brown hair
Will be replaced by hers
The blackest of ravens
Within me evil stirs.
Then my eyes
The moody green gone
And in its stead the crystal blue
Of that one blond has-been yawn.
The pasty skin replaced
By silken moonlight
Borrowed from that Gothic girl
Most beautiful white.
The thin lips
Are plumped by thoughts of
Stealing the beauty's full ones
Red and full of love.
I look in the mirror
Letter for the deceased.Letter for the deceased.3 years ago in Drama More Like This
I am writing to validate my... Emotions.
As i have a serious difficulty in expressing my deepest feelings in fear of being vulnerable, i figured writing them down would probably clear my head... Somehow.
I know you are gone... The hardest thing i have ever had to come to terms with and accept... And i am not stating this lightly. As i am now in complete solitude, i only have my thoughts and memories to keep me company... Even so, i am certain this is nothing compared to the agony you had to live with each and everyday.
Growing up in the Uchiha household, i thought life couldn't get any better, this being when i was very young. We had a happy, healthy family. A wonderful network of people linked together and bonded by blood. Life was simple and i was happy.
Everytime i got to spend time with my big brother, i was on cloud nine. You... Itachi. You were so cool, so strong and smart. I wanted to grow up and be just like you. Just like my Nii-san... You were my hero.
I would train h
cliffcliffcliff3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
on velvet roads,
I impale a belated dawn
with my incisors and
shiver with perfect leaves-
I have no qualms
with the dark hills
and stagger into
a bed of scorched fly husks:
the thrum of the ground
with the rapids in
my clairvoyant ears.
What Happened to the Trees? "Mommy?"What Happened to the Trees?6 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
"What happened to all the trees?"
"They were cut down."
"Because people became too greedy."
A World of MagicA World of Magic3 years ago in Humor More Like This
In truth, she had no idea what to expect. All Mephisto said was for her to show up in his office, and he would personally educate her in the use of demonic spells. Her gut still clenched at the mere thought. After attending Catholic school for so many years, the word "spells" alone conjured up images of horrific rituals requiring the most despicable sacrifices. When she first heard that exorcists used spells in their line of work she'd thought the person in question was joking. It had taken her a lot of time just to get used to the idea, and she practised such spells only because of the lack of gore and other unethical elements.
How the tables had turned! Not only had her true nature as a half-demon been revealed to her and half succubus at that but now a demon king had offered to teach her demonic magic. The very thing she was supposed to oppose. Then again, Mephisto was someone she was supposed to oppose as well, but the Vatican tolerated him readily enough. Her head sp
How Not to Tell a StoryAfter being on DeviantArt for a few years now, I've noticed patterns in people's stories. Patterns, that I can't say I've ever seen until I started using the internet. I believe that's because these kind of patterns are thoroughly unprofessional. The pattern in short is this:How Not to Tell a Story2 years ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
Character = victim
Plot = bad things happening to said victim
Maybe this sounds harsh. It's not if you understand that is ALL there is to these stories. They take any character, hurl them into a tragedy and that's it.
Let's get this straight: We do not know your character well enough to care about them yet. No matter how bloody and gutty their injuries are, no matter how many of their family members are deceased, no matter what their boyfriend did to them, no matter what kind of disease they have, WE. DO. NOT. CARE!!!!!
These kind of things are sad in themselves, but WHO is this person we're supposed to feel so horrible for? Establish THAT. It should be your absolute FIRST priority: no exceptions.
No more pasting