NO, the FanArt folder is NOT full. It no longer exists. Fan Art may now be submitted to the other appropriate folders.
A REMINDER FOR NEW MEMBERS:
For some reason, the MISCELLANEOUS (misc) folder was MAINLY created for deviations that are not appropriate in any other folder in the gallery.
Members, please do not submit multiple copies of the same deviation. It will not speed up the process at all. Unfortunately, the admins cannot be at the computer (or other device) 24/7. This is a very active group, so your deviations will be moderated eventually. Please be patient. Thank you.
REGARDING MATURE CONTENT:
Please keep the nudity "tasteful/artistic". Unsure of what that is?
raimeisWhat ifThe man weren’t poorBut he pouredThrough equality’s pores?What ifHe couldn’t soar?Not for lack of trying, butBecause he was sore?What ifHe were stuckWhen he rowed and rodeDown the road?What ifHe had traveledThroughVale, veil, and vail?Would you understandThenThe sighs ofHis absent side?
ceolOn the breeze floats a loud nothingness That greets waiting ears so eagerly Setting hearts beating to reminisce Valleys filled with fleeting melodies Up high in the cliffs of Donegal Down deep in the mist of Kilkenny Have meticulous bards chronicled Heroes' history marred by villainy Do you hear the fiddle's whispering Coming nearer as we assemble? What was silence is now flickering A céilí we will soon resemble Do you hear the bodhrán's playfulness? With each beat, the ear grows livelier Now let's cue that sean-nós gracefulness With the tipper's beating mightier! Do you hear the pipes of Uilleann Through glens and forests still echoing? Sure to bring tappin' from everyone 'Till whoops and hollers are bellowing Do you hear the notes oft glorious From the feadóg stáin—clear, effortless? Putting to shame dear, old Orpheus Even cold Hades would acquiesce Do you feel, in your bones, eagerness To go home and join the excitement? Clackin', tappin' to songs, treasonous And dance Éirinn's jigs of incitement
sailchuachA war is fought in the sky Between the sun and winter's eye A war is fought in the air Between frigid and warmth's care A war is fought on the ground Between life and death abound In the tide of waged battle Stands an oak, her branches rattled Shivering, old, and bare But guardian of the scared Bright, spring flowers should dot the hillside But they hide, terrified After all, last year Joe Grew up too soon and froze So the fresh, spring shoots cower Worried of the surface's power Their frantic whispers reach the ears Of the oak who's stood for years "What if the next Joe, I am? What if the warmth is a scam?" "Should I have my coffin sized? For in it will my petals lie" "Hush, now, little ones" Comes the oak's booming tongue "I will show you that it's safe And you'll come to love this place" "I've seen generations of your heads Dapple this hill with pinks and reds No harm came to Grandma Daisy Of hours lived she 180!" "Yet each year you hide in the dark Too fearful to your journey embark Would you rather live your life in the depths Or take your first unhindered breaths?" Violet took the first wiggle Dislodging soil with a wriggle Until her head broke the surface And she understood her purpose She saw the oak, the sun, the birds She smelled spring's fragrant herbs But when she turned to tell her horde She couldn't see them anymore