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About Literature / Professional Core Member Cody Brown26/Male/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 10 Years
3 Week Core Membership:
Given by PinkRangerPower
Statistics 292 Deviations 4,628 Comments 46,527 Pageviews

Newest Deviations

Literature
Leave No Trace
I met a traveler from a nearby land
who shared this story: “A hoary ruin
of pitted concrete and chewed-up brick stands
amid the ancient groves, an intrusion
of steel beams cut short like broken hands
and rusted by the turning wheel of years.
Round its base, framed by curtains of moss
and fallen leaves whose scents rise like vapors
is a signboard, half decayed and faded:
“Bangor Nature Preserve... Please Leave No Trace...”
Nothing else disturbs the rest of shaded
brook and breeze. No human touch, ill or wise,
trammels the scene.” Am I yet as jaded
as the people who took their own advice?
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Literature
Once Upon an Autumn
Scarlet caps the green
of last summer's bounty like
foam upon a wave.
In warmer lands, South Wind stirs,
rising to his ancient task.
South Wind runs his hands
through golden frosts and fields,
leaving branches bare.
After each October gale,
Hoary winter gains more ground.
Ink-blot crows rest in
cages of branches and sky
then take wing once more.
North Wind begins to sing
quiet, cloud-gray lullabies.
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Literature
Robin's Egg Blue
You were not long for this world...
May you find the wings you couldn't
grow here on Earth.
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Literature
April
April
pulls its fog-shroud
over the coast, battered
by surf, the seagulls' songs haunting
the tides.
Sea fog
lifts and lightens
over cliffs the color
of despair. Waves reach up to touch
sunlight.
South winds
banish the gray –
the barren, muddy earth
shows the first emerald sparks of life
returned.
Flowers
bloom from swollen
buds, the ocean cliffs turned
into a realm of light and joy;
sea rose.
Robins
return to nest,
gracing the cerulean
sky with the ancient verse of spring
once more.
April
lifts and lightens
the barren, muddy earth
into a realm of light and joy
once more.
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Literature
A Talent for Misery Chapter 1
The ornate brass key looked much newer than Gabriel knew it to be. Despite being at least three generations old, having been passed from his grandfather to his father and now, at last, to him, the small key shone with a ruddy light under the weak early winter sunlight streaming into the courtyard. The simple fact he had been given it at all was in some ways a miracle. As the second son to the baron, the honor should have gone to his older brother. Of course, life had a way of writing its own script and that often didn't follow the standard procedures of humanity's devising.
Gabriel slid the key into his coat pocket and turned his attention back to the building he was headed for. The grass underfoot was browned and crunchy with the coming frost and his breath steamed out above and behind him like a banner of war. Days like today made him want to stay in the comfort of the sitting room by a roaring fire pit, but his father had instructed him to meet in the basement, of all places.
Gabrie
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Literature
Morbid Warmth
“Howdy, stranger.”
The young man strolling down the wide dirt path was every bit the gentleman; tweed jacket, deep green waistcoat, straw boater perched fashionably atop a head of lustrous chestnut curls. The old farmer's face – as furrowed by time as his fields were by the plow resting at the grassy verge – creased into its well-accustomed frown. The last thing he needed that day was some uppity dandy saying howdy like he was king of the county.
The young man stopped his stroll and tipped his hat toward the farmer. “Beautiful day, wouldn't you say? The breeze is as perfumed as Spring's soft whispers, and yet here we are on the tail end of October!”
The farmer harrumphed. He had no interest in trading purple prose with some uppity dandy.
Overhead, a skein of geese flew raucously by. At the same time, the breeze picked up and knocked a shower of canary-yellow leaves from the beech tree arching over this corner of field.
The young man smiled knowingly,
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Taillis Realms Map by Captain-Random Taillis Realms Map :iconcaptain-random:Captain-Random 5 0
Literature
To Make You Into Something Beautiful
My nascent smile
inevitably
turned back into dust.
If only you knew
love's light lived on.
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:iconcaptain-random:Captain-Random 5 3
Dollhouse Cafe Table by Captain-Random Dollhouse Cafe Table :iconcaptain-random:Captain-Random 4 2
Literature
School-Age Psychopomp
The poem was not on the pages left
on the desk, in the worn spiral notebook
lined with his images of missing love
and lucid dreams half-remembered as fact.
He was his own poem, a verse borrowed
from a story heard in another life.
Each breath longed to rejoin with its Speaker,
to find a way back home once and for all.
The Poet wished to show the world beauty.
The world, in its fear, did not understand.
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Mature content
Chronicles of a Dwarf Fortress :iconcaptain-random:Captain-Random 1 0
A First Try at Doll Furniture by Captain-Random A First Try at Doll Furniture :iconcaptain-random:Captain-Random 3 3
Literature
Canon in D
For him, colors flowed as freely
as the sweet, piercing music that so
stirred his soul to these heights.
The air carried the scents of the seasons
– each lovely in its own way –
just as it held aloft the Gull and the Raven,
both deserving of his love, and receiving,
though they never were wise enough to know.
His life was a tempest he never strove
to tame, an eagle content to soar forever.
And while this tempest battered and bruised,
it never broke. There was an improbable strength
in perceived fragility, in the ephemereal smiles
and fey, dark eyes that could be stirred to tears
simply because a song was beautiful
and he was not.
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Literature
What Was Lost
Ghost-silk auroras were her veil,
snowflake stars her hair.
My northern queen, as warm as Spring –
Why, Why do I remember?
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Literature
Too Early to Rise
Winter's sleep grows restless.
Nightmares clad in chill mists,
haunting melodies of the forests'
ghost-birds, churn the white snow
into ashen slush.
Silent water drips from barren branches,
quickening the thaw below like
rapid eye movements beneath closed lids.
Evergreen boughs droop low with
the weary weight of Heaven's
rejected waters. Darkness pools among
the dreaming roots And all
through the glade lit only
by endless void above, the coyotes
chant their dire songs:
“The Dreamer must soon wake!”
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:iconcaptain-random:Captain-Random 7 4
Literature
November's Last Betrayal
Flat grey skies above.
A raven-feathered heart steals
breath I'd saved for you.
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:iconcaptain-random:Captain-Random 9 5

Favourites

Stormy Skies by Eurwentala Stormy Skies :iconeurwentala:Eurwentala 247 23 Lights in the Deep by Eurwentala Lights in the Deep :iconeurwentala:Eurwentala 312 23 Looking forward by TaliC-os Looking forward :icontalic-os:TaliC-os 30 7 Art Nouveau Abster'sine by RollinWithThePunches Art Nouveau Abster'sine :iconrollinwiththepunches:RollinWithThePunches 65 30 Day 12 : Broom by fawnbun Day 12 : Broom :iconfawnbun:fawnbun 472 0
Literature
23/30
yellow Kowhai buds
hang like church bells
Bellbirds chime an exquisite duet
a Tuis timber creek call reverberates
birds flit and float on tree fingertips
:iconfoxseason:foxseason
:iconfoxseason:foxseason 16 20
Literature
Flaming Moth
My heart is a campfire;
we're gathered like fireflies
to hear the eulogies of my drywall veins,
a silent nod to the flickering hope
that stubbornly clings to my breath beats,
my eye shine, my razzle and glow dreams.
You are quiet in your gasping,
a beacon I've set my destination for
but can't quite reach out to pull close--
like moon dust or phantom velvet or the softest of night sighs,
you slip through even the loosest clenched fists,
a will-o-the-wisp with an alluring face and an ever changing façade.
In my aching, I crackle and crinkle your name
across the typography of my skin,
a topographical error in lusting and loving
that I can't bring myself to regret
and yet can't sow a label to.
My bones are kindling;
I've snapped them into twiggy pieces
and soaked them with kerosene
just begging for the chance
to light the way home for you.
You are gentle in your grasping,
a quiet place of reckoning I'd like to taste;
hand me the matchsticks
of your just-waking, don't-quite-know-what-y
:iconbetwixtthepages:betwixtthepages
:iconbetwixtthepages:betwixtthepages 12 7
Literature
blackbird refrain.
Mine is a nation of songbirds.
Even now amongst the cliffs of
noise, the walls of peeling engines
and a thousand tongues speaking
in tandem in an edifice of sound,
I hear them still. Blackbirds
dotting the stripped branches of
warped beeches, the flitting of thrushes
amongst the shrubbery of landscaped
office spaces, I hear them trill.
A constant lyric of avian emotion,
their sentiments mixing with mine as
dusk nestles itself in the unlit
corners of London’s neon streets.
I hear them still, as I wander
quiet backstreets in the footsteps of my
Victorian ancestors, wondering if they
heard the same lineage of musicians
weaving lullabies from the barren
branches of the very same oak. I hear
them trill, and my ancestors heard them
too, perhaps as buoyed by love as I am,
echoing those love-worn serenades in
the nest of their hearts just as I do now,
or perhaps instead so singed by betrayal
that instead irony took up the cuckoo
mantle in their thrumming chorus-line.
Mine is a nation of
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Literature
Shards XIX
Lipstick, lace, high heels
Tucked away in the backseat
I am not your toy
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Literature
I. The Empress of Moths and Secrets
The wind ripped across the city, dragging in a storm. Litter tumbled down the street as the wind howled, forcing itself through alleyways it shouldn’t have been able to reach. The wind chimes of broken wine bottles clanked together sounding more like a warning than harmonic.
From her spot on the rusted fire escape, Lani listened to her friend sing. She leaned against the dirty brick and took a long drag from her cigarette.
Mina’s voice curled the air, slipping through the harsh wind. In the bathtub under the open window, Mina sang a song, old and brittle in lyrics, in a language unfamiliar to air, but with a melody like the last leaf of the earth falling. Despite the days and weeks of singing this song that lasts hours, Mina never sung the last verse. Never. She probably didn’t realize Lani knew of the very last verse. Not many did. Not many outside of the merfolk.
“It gets worse every time you sing it,” Lani said, with the cig between her lips and nothing
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Daily Paint 2009# New Pokemon Leek! by Cryptid-Creations Daily Paint 2009# New Pokemon Leek! :iconcryptid-creations:Cryptid-Creations 4,549 351 Foundation by andreasrocha Foundation :iconandreasrocha:andreasrocha 1,905 37 Forest of Liars : Wandering by Tohad Forest of Liars : Wandering :icontohad:Tohad 2,307 45
Literature
the empress and the dragon god
I.
"How many years has it been?"
She starts at the sound of his voice. "You scared me!"
"Anyone who dares to drift off into a daydream near my domain deserves to be startled back into awareness," he says.
She scowls down from the rock she is perched on. Ryū is grinning up at her unrepentantly. The sight makes her smile, albeit reluctantly. "Ten years," she says.
"Only?" he says, stretching up to catch hold of the rock. With a quick heave, he pulls himself up so that they are sitting side by side.
"Ten years is a long time for a human," she says wryly.
"So you were only—" he counts his fingers. She watches, fascinated as always by the thin translucent webbing between each finger. "Ten years old," he says. "Wait, no. Eleven, weren't you?"
"Ten and a half." She'd dragged him away from the men clutching their chokutō and tsurugi blades, and she'd tossed him into the water before they could see. "Just strong enough to haul you across the last three hundred meters to t
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How many of my watchers are doing NaNoWriMo this year? 

50%
3 deviants said I am!
33%
2 deviants said I would like to if I had the time/inspiration/caffeine
17%
1 deviant said Not I!
0%
No deviants said What's NaNoWriMo?

Mid-November Updates

Thu Nov 15, 2018, 3:32 AM
I write this from the front line of NaNoWriMo warfare. The word counts are never-ending and the dreaded enemy, Writer's Block, casts an ever-present shadow on the horizon. Despite all this, I feel the tide turning. I am winning!

NaNoWriMo got off to an interesting start for me this year. Two days in, I decided to change my novel completely and now I'm working on a paranormal romance, which is a first for me. I've also accidentally starting writing my first love triangle. It's pretty fun, all things considered. I love trying new things and the characters are all highly engaging so far. I'm even a little bit ahead in my word count now. I have no doubt that I'll fall behind again before the month's over, but who knows? Maybe this year will be my best yet.

I was going to keep this journal only about NaNoWriMo, but two other things have come up recently. First, the good news. I was generously given a premium membership by PinkRangerPower, so you can all expect more polls from me in the future.

And now for the not-so-good news. As a lot of you probably have seen, deviantART is planning a big overhaul of the aesthetics of the site. I've seen what they plan, and I'm afraid the new layout is going to hurt artists who work primarily with literature, such as myself and a few other friends I have on the site. Now, I could be wrong and there could be something in the works for us writers, but I just don't know for sure. What do all of you think?

I hope the month is going well for all of you. My next update journal isn't far away, but I suspect my world will be a much snowier one when I write to you again.


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Cody Brown
Artist | Professional | Literature
United States
Cody Brown lives with one foot in Maine and one in Brigard. Not everyone approves of this, and yet he keeps on doing it. When not writing, Cody spends most of his time world-building in one form or another. The Clocksmith is Cody's debut novel.

www.patreon.com/brigardine

twitter.com/brigardine

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:iconcomatose-comet:
comatose-comet Featured By Owner Oct 15, 2018  Hobbyist Writer
This is super late but thank you so much for the fave! It really means a lot :dalove:
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(1 Reply)
:iconriverspirit22:
RiverSpirit22 Featured By Owner Sep 17, 2018
Happy birthday!! :D :D :D :cake: :cake: :llama:
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:iconaceofspadesproduc100:
AceOfSpadesProduc100 Featured By Owner Sep 17, 2018  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Happy birthday!
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(1 Reply)
:iconpennedinwhite:
PennedinWhite Featured By Owner Sep 17, 2018  Hobbyist Writer
Happy Birthday!! :cake: Have a fantastic day! 
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(1 Reply)
:iconmagicrain100:
MagicRain100 Featured By Owner Aug 8, 2018
Hi, can I please have some points? I hope I'm not bothering you. I hope you have a fantastic day/evening!
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:iconfoxseason:
foxseason Featured By Owner Jun 25, 2018   Writer
thanks for your recent support :heart:
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(1 Reply)
:iconladylincoln:
LadyLincoln Featured By Owner Jun 18, 2018  Hobbyist Writer
I always appreciate your support, dearest. 

Thank you for faving! :heart:
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(1 Reply)
:iconladylincoln:
LadyLincoln Featured By Owner Mar 27, 2018  Hobbyist Writer
Thank A4 by Alimera

Thank you for your :+fav: love. As always, you're a gem. :heart:
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(1 Reply)
:icondragonfairy88:
DragonFairy88 Featured By Owner Mar 14, 2018  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks for the llama, dear! :D
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(1 Reply)
:iconthewarofthering:
TheWarOfTheRing Featured By Owner Mar 12, 2018  Student Writer
Thank you for the llama!
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(1 Reply)
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