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About Deviant Wendy TerwillegerFemale/United States Recent Activity
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Literature
Holding Hands
My aching void in nights alone gets filled in spectral form.
Those gone I've loved and known stop by, hearts stilled, but loving, warm.
It's nothing to seek praise for, and no deed of mine to boast.
It helps my empty days, when I can hold hands with a ghost.
It is a special kindness when you sense one next to you.
Not living, yet still loving, a faint outline comes in view.
You get a smile-shimmer, and a phantom touch at most.
Tears make your vision dimmer when you hold hands with a ghost.
Their words, they speak in silence, passed like notes between close friends.
Your questions would be violence, you won't know 'til your tale ends.
You sense them there, they're happy, and they chide you, since you mourn.
You can't refute them aptly with their loss a burden borne.
They laugh at me still grieving when I know that they're past pain.
I  take joy in believing that somehow I still remain
Among their thoughts when they have shed all pain, fatigue and sadness.
It vexes me that I vex the
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Literature
Incline
There are staircases in deep shade
In which one's every step is made
In terror of what might appear.
Each gain of height means stronger fear.
You hear some creaks, the noises lapse.
Is something there? Will it collapse?
The gloom increases in your way.
Was that a lurch?  Did something sway?
Nonsense!  Fearful thoughts are errors!
Focus on your other terrors.
Aching knees, a shaking hand,
Racing heart you can't command.
One more step, a chance to fall.
You HOPE you'll make it through at all.
There is the end, a BIT more light.
You daren't climb these stairs at night.
You find that thing for which you sought.
Too old for use, but dearly bought.
You turn, still frightened, haggard, spent.
Darkness waits for your descent.
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Literature
The Urban Dinosaur
You see the trash bags ripped by claws
And can’t decide what was the cause.
The mud holds tracks, all rather odd,
Made by some outsize therapod.
The cats are wary, pigeons few,
Nary a rat skulks into view.
The dogs seem frightened and unsure.
Even squirrels act insecure.
You find a feather, crude and huge.
Near some fanged creature’s box refuge.
Something hisses, does not roar,
It is the urban dinosaur!
It streaks right past you, then is gone.
Discarded tooth? A troodon!
Two eagle’s eyes return your looks.
This one’s not in your picture books!
You find its traces, gauge its mood.
It favors Fast and Chinese food.
You watch at night long, carefully.
It’s there, behind the K-F-C!
In a dry culvert there’s its nest.
Shredded carpets pad its rest.
Huddled there against the storm
Fiberfill helps keep it warm.
You know the ‘that,’ not ‘why’ or ‘how?’
The Mesozoic must mean ‘now.’
It’s small and fast and q
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Literature
The Unkindest Kind of Cut
Grief is love turned into pain,
What is lost, lost will remain.
Anger is a wrong made madness.
Loneliness is empty sadness.
There is worse, proved on reflection:
The worst hurts come from rejection.
The rush of hope, of sudden dreaming,
A shared future, golden, gleaming.
Finding one to make all true;
Proffering the gift of you.
Its return leads to dejection.
Nothing kills joy like rejection.
Or, a distance down the path,
Boredom, fear, or triggered wrath
Turns a lover to a ‘friend.’
(Painful pause before the end).
One more scar for one’s collection.
Acid burns less than rejection.
One at first denies one’s fate.
One sees clearly far too late;
Struggles with the leaden pall.
Hope shows no life signs at all.
Proved a vain hope on inspection.
The sure promise was rejection.
Once you’ve felt that heavy blow
Other torments come, and go.
Memories prompt second-guessing.
Gifts and photos prove distressing.
Your course is lost past all correction.
Love has
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Literature
Healer of Giants
(for Alex Karnes, and Company)
I am not much like other men.
I’ve known that since I don’t know when.
Something drives me ever on
Towards a world fools think is gone.
I have skills beyond their ken.
       I make Titans move again.
Others cluster ‘round my flame,
Driven in ways much the same
Towards a distant gleaming light
Caught up in my willing plight
To bring back what once has been:
       To make Titans move again.
The monsters slumber, cold and still.
We emerge and work our will.
Banishing old rust with flame,
Wielding forces few can tame.
Arcane knowledge tells us when
       We’ll make Titans move again.
The groaning power we can feel
Watching warmth awaken steel.
Faithful genius springs to life!
Steam and oil meet in strife.
The beast stirs within its den:
       Mark!  The Titan moves again!
NOW is the appointed hour!
It shall move, display its power!
Triumphan
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Literature
But...
I’ve done my work and found it good,
I’ve polished it, the way I should.
I’ve looked to make it fine and nice.
I’ve sought and taken good advice.
And now it’s time I should deploy it…
BUT will someone else enjoy it?
You must create what brings delight
To you, and seems good in your sight.
You generate your special treasures
From your own dreams with your own pleasures.
The work was slow, could not destroy it…
BUT will a stranger enjoy it?
I worked hard on what I’ve made.
I can part with it—if paid.
Talent’s lovely, praise is sweet.
Still, an artist HAS to eat!
Creative gift? I must employ it!
BUT will someone buy; enjoy it?
Quality exists unknown.
Man lives not by bread alone!
I’ve worked for a long, long while…
I have skill and my own style.
Poured and molded, their alloy, it
Now remains—did YOU enjoy it?
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Literature
Dragon
(to the tune of 'Mammal' by 'They Might be Giants.')
Blast of fire
Shooting out with deadly aim straight at the knight upon his horse
Who decides that this is not the place to be.
And flamebreath keeps eggs warm
Upon a gleaming trove.
Fire keeps things clean if at times more than a little scorched...
 
Dragon, dragon...
Wings, fangs and tail,
Scutes, claws and scale
The good, the bad,
The sane, the mad,
The Evil and Benign...
 
Each one of us has a hoard
We tend to sleep where it is stored.
If it's shiny and it's near, there it's likely to appear.
Look for six big limbs and the power of flight,
Which with skill we keep controlled...
We fly and we die somewhere quite near the sky...
 
Dragon, dragon...
Wings, fangs and tail,
Scutes, claws and scale
The good, the bad,
The sane, the mad,
The Evil and Benign...
 
Chromatic the spawn of six-headed Tiamat.
Their nature is sinister
And they tend toward sadistically murderous...
 
Dragon, dragon...
Wings, fangs and tai
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Literature
Christmas Ghosts
At table, where I sit alone,
The empty chairs hold friends I’ve known,
For many a long, lonely year.
I toast them now, though they’re not here.
They’re welcome on this Christmastide.
Of course, they’re ghosts, they all have died.
The passing years are now vast rifts,
And yet these kind dead bring me gifts.
The first is Grant, whose life was pain.
His gifts of music still remain.
The melodies he found and shared,
His loss, an ache still unrepaired.
Darrin, dragon, soul and mind,
Silver gleaming, twice refined,
Left me here to soar above.
I still mourn, and I still love.
Caden, delphine, gleaming, sleek…
Laughter curved that smiling beak.
Laughter faded to distress
At your sudden exodus.
Carrie, whom I dared to cherish,
Not unspared, left lorn to perish.
Longed for in my every breath,
Our love swift as your swift death.
Family ghosts lurk near the scene.
Grandparents  still evergreen,
Join my father’s oversight.
How I try to do them right!
The mem
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Literature
Reliquary
I stalk my halls in grief and rage,
What was my lair seems now my cage.
My footsteps echo, then are stilled.
The darkness rests, my laughter killed.
I am still strong, alert, and fell,
But loneliness has, sad to tell,
Left existence stark and sere.
I mourn missed faces everywhere.
The gaps they’ve left can’t be denied.
My substitute for love is pride.
I am still dragon, as such, brave,
Yet loath to leave my empty cave.
Whose was the fault, whose was the choice,
That stripped me of each cherished voice?
They left as freely as they came.
There is no use assigning blame.
Outside my gates I see the stars,
My grief obstructs like iron bars.
My missing sources of delight
Shall not be found in lonely flight.
I roar in wrath, blast forth my breath,
And vainly challenge time, and death
Which robbed me over years and miles
Of holding arms, of welcome smiles.
The empty rooms, the withered hopes,
Life has its dooms. A dragon copes.
Endurance serves when gladness fails.
I search and hop
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Literature
Dragon's Lullaby
Little wide-eyed nestling, hear my song and know it’s true.
Of all your parents’ treasures here, their dearest one is you.
It’s time today to end your play, suspend your merry schemes.
So lie down on your own small hoard, and seek out golden dreams.
There are deep secret places where a dragon can abide,
There are bright shiny treasures which you'll find and that you'll hide.
There are clouds and high mountains, and vast gleaming oceans deep.
All yours there for exploring... So sleep, my darling, sleep...
No wicked men can harm you, for you're strong, and wise and brave...
Fell monsters know that facing you’s a short route to the grave.
There are great deeds to envision, and noble oaths you’ll keep.
Your life will be such splendor!  So sleep, my darling, sleep...
Your parents both will guard you, watch you while you're sleeping there.
No danger can come near you, safe at rest, deep in our lair.
You’ll sprawl upon grand jewels, and you’ll di
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Literature
Eremos
Your voice has gone silent, the echoes have faded.
The light of your eyes is forever, now, shaded.
I’m left with a great gaping hole in my heart,
While my life endures, we have been thrust apart.
The tears well up thickly and my vision blurs.
I have trouble breathing, the problem recurs.
You must be in bliss, that’s my hope and belief,
But now I must stagger, alone with my grief.
We stole priceless hours and shared a pure joy,
But such are the flowers one frost can destroy.
The joyous sweet time that we shared was a boon
I was not prepared when the bill came so soon.
Your life was so fraught with such burdens and pain,
I begged God to help you, and that could explain
That when your health failed you, He moved mercifully
And bore off your burdens, and thus, you from me.
I yet still look for you, but foolish hopes fail.
I still so adore you but no pleas will avail.
Your sweet call of greeting has, with you, departed.
No more joy in meeting, I sob, broken-hearted.
I'm reft of
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Literature
All in My Mind
(For Mavra)
Each day a new self leaves the old one behind.
Some aspects are lost, riven, fixed or refined.
And now I am altered, as if stricken blind,
My world is now solely within my own mind.
My body’s borne burdens with more aches and pains,
It lies weakened now, but my duty remains.
It seems that other parts of me can suffer sprains,
A blood vessel’s burst in my stroke-weakened brains.
Cancer once gripped me, made me weak and ill;
Left scars seen and unseen, I bear them all still.
And now a new illness moves in for the kill.
The weapon last left me, my weakened, mute will.
That will cannot make half my body respond.
I fight not to drown in the Slough of Despond.
Strangers surround me, they’re paid for my care,
And friends are left wond’ring how much of me’s there.
There’s anger and boredom, resentment and rage.
My body’s become my sad stricken soul’s cage.
Not all of me’s here, but here is where I am.
My family has late
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Literature
Lizards in Love
(The song of Kobolds employed in a Dragons' lair)
With gloating apologies to Jackson Browne
We just can't keep up with what's crawling 'round...
It's cold, so our heart rates are slowing down...
Among you monster drakes
We get squished like snowflakes,
    And so we hide and sing behind the drapes...
        With the covert sounds of... lizards in love...
You dragons soar up high, you're beautiful...
We look aloft and sigh, we're dutiful...
We clean your royal suites...
And hope you'll bring us treats!
   Usually it's more commands, like 'Change the sheets'...
        On the tired backs of... lizards in love...
Last night you dragons sat up near the fire,
And we were cold.
One of you thought we should be eaten
Since we speak our minds...
We hid deep in our holes...
And prayed for our poor souls...  
   And poured the peanut oil on the coals...
       So you can't stir-fry us... lizar
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Literature
Aunt Beast
I do not hide the fact that I’m
Enthralled by A Wrinkle in Time,.
I cannot kythe, or else project
Myself out through a tesseract
But for all that, I love and glory
In L’Engle’s brilliant story.
Shadows, angels in old clothes,
Flying centaurs (I love those!)
Make me able, for a bit
To cope with Camazotz—and IT.
(Those are dire, rather scary—
Like the Murrys, I don’t tarry!
)
Feeling so, you’d think me mean
When that book hits the big screen,
To glower and not to call it ‘groovy.’
Someone’s missing from the movie.
Ticket buyers all got fleeced!
Disney WENT AND CUT AUNT BEAST!
Oprah wearing disco gear,
Mrs. Who with vision clear,
Charles adopted, Whatsit gabby,
(Centaurs swapped for cabbage cabby?)
Disney’s version rumpled, creased—
AND THEY EXCISED POOR AUNT BEAST!
It gets worse—because, you see,
In pursuit of ‘diversity’
They made such changes, for the worse.
What, pray, c
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Literature
The Victor
I stood alone, and held my own,
With fang and claw and breath,
Against Hell's legions. I, unknown
Now lie here, close to death.
In folly, or perhaps fool's pride
I gave all I could give.
But martyrdom's (for now) denied
For yet I do still live.
I blocked the way they marched to slay
The human folk below.
My fury turned the night to day
My flame made granite glow.
Three times they charged, three times they fled,
I stood and struck to kill.
Now devils by the score lie dead
And I am living still.
Their poisoned darts obscured the stars,
The moon made dim by spears.
My blows left fatal wounds, not scars,
I realized their fears.
An arch demon came forth at last
Struck with his flaming whip.
And I survive and he has passed
In my unyielding grip.
My blood drips slowly on the stone
My wings are marred by rents
Vultures and wolves know I'm alone
And linger in suspense,
To know when the torn drake will die
So they may come and feed.
The reek of hunger swells, yet I
Will not yet glut their need.
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Literature
Naturalist's Notes on N2O
Several stanzas from "Naturalist's Notes on a Planet with a
                   High Nitrous Oxide Atmosphere."

Frookies greeble late at night,
And glabverate the Breem.
Yet when Zerks gurble,
They take fright,
And groop!  So it would seem.
And underneath the Bonxa shrubs,
The delraps lurk and mumble.
For when the greebling Frookie grubs,
They're far too zorched to grumble.
The Bindlewurst ginks through the murk
And makes the tem-trees spooky.
But even Sebfleps do not lurk
Around the greebling Frookie.
Yet in the sea the Sim-sops dwell,
And Gunglefrids beneath,
And never once does Frookie smell
Pollute the roaring reef.
On mountainsides, Kiyonbers mince
With tiny steps, and cleavers.
And should a Frookie gnurp or wince,
They slap their tails, like beavers.
And once I saw the Mondlemynd,
A sight as rare as rubies!
No Frookie could compare with such!
And but a few Urdnoobies!
The ten teeth of the Glinkercrig
Are pointed, like t
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Activity


My aching void in nights alone gets filled in spectral form.
Those gone I've loved and known stop by, hearts stilled, but loving, warm.
It's nothing to seek praise for, and no deed of mine to boast.
It helps my empty days, when I can hold hands with a ghost.

It is a special kindness when you sense one next to you.
Not living, yet still loving, a faint outline comes in view.
You get a smile-shimmer, and a phantom touch at most.
Tears make your vision dimmer when you hold hands with a ghost.

Their words, they speak in silence, passed like notes between close friends.
Your questions would be violence, you won't know 'til your tale ends.
You sense them there, they're happy, and they chide you, since you mourn.
You can't refute them aptly with their loss a burden borne.

They laugh at me still grieving when I know that they're past pain.
I  take joy in believing that somehow I still remain
Among their thoughts when they have shed all pain, fatigue and sadness.
It vexes me that I vex them with grief akin to madness.

They share the jokes we shared in life and shake in voiceless laughter.
They pity my fatigue and strife.  They can't say what comes after.
I smile as my tears stream down, gifts from their grateful host.
It's impolite to hold a frown and hold hands with a ghost.
Holding Hands
There is nothing ominous in this poem, it is not despairing or morbid.  It is just my articulation of what it feels like to have the loving company of those who've left your sphere.
Loading...
There are staircases in deep shade
In which one's every step is made
In terror of what might appear.
Each gain of height means stronger fear.

You hear some creaks, the noises lapse.
Is something there? Will it collapse?
The gloom increases in your way.
Was that a lurch?  Did something sway?

Nonsense!  Fearful thoughts are errors!
Focus on your other terrors.
Aching knees, a shaking hand,
Racing heart you can't command.

One more step, a chance to fall.
You HOPE you'll make it through at all.
There is the end, a BIT more light.
You daren't climb these stairs at night.

You find that thing for which you sought.
Too old for use, but dearly bought.
You turn, still frightened, haggard, spent.
Darkness waits for your descent.
Incline
A friend has twice commented on the 'Preview' picture, saying it warrants a poem.  I lived for years in a creaking old house in a decaying section of Philadelphia.  A child had died in that house of the Spanish Influenza.  The terrors linger in memory...
Loading...
You see the trash bags ripped by claws
And can’t decide what was the cause.
The mud holds tracks, all rather odd,
Made by some outsize therapod.

The cats are wary, pigeons few,
Nary a rat skulks into view.
The dogs seem frightened and unsure.
Even squirrels act insecure.

You find a feather, crude and huge.
Near some fanged creature’s box refuge.
Something hisses, does not roar,
It is the urban dinosaur!

It streaks right past you, then is gone.
Discarded tooth? A troodon!
Two eagle’s eyes return your looks.
This one’s not in your picture books!

You find its traces, gauge its mood.
It favors Fast and Chinese food.
You watch at night long, carefully.
It’s there, behind the K-F-C!

In a dry culvert there’s its nest.
Shredded carpets pad its rest.
Huddled there against the storm
Fiberfill helps keep it warm.

You know the ‘that,’ not ‘why’ or ‘how?’
The Mesozoic must mean ‘now.’
It’s small and fast and quite voracious,
Escapee from the Mid-Cretaceous.

You pause, you think, you then review,
‘Nothing’ seems the thing to do.
They won’t believe you.  You don’t care.
You’re satisfied to know it’s there.

You hear a scratching and kerfuffle;
A squawk, a thud, a frantic scuffle!
You pull the dumpster’s lid agape.
Anachronism can escape.

It has adapted rather well.
This habitat its place to dwell.
A life form, means of birth unknown;
So far it seems to live alone.

It’s underneath that station wagon
Preening with an urban dragon.
Disbelieved, so neither feared.
The world’s better when it’s weird.
The Urban Dinosaur
As if raccoons weren't bad enough... But I rather like the idea of the past recolonizing our urban wastelands...
Loading...
Grief is love turned into pain,
What is lost, lost will remain.
Anger is a wrong made madness.
Loneliness is empty sadness.
There is worse, proved on reflection:
The worst hurts come from rejection.

The rush of hope, of sudden dreaming,
A shared future, golden, gleaming.
Finding one to make all true;
Proffering the gift of you.
Its return leads to dejection.
Nothing kills joy like rejection.

Or, a distance down the path,
Boredom, fear, or triggered wrath
Turns a lover to a ‘friend.’
(Painful pause before the end).
One more scar for one’s collection.
Acid burns less than rejection.

One at first denies one’s fate.
One sees clearly far too late;
Struggles with the leaden pall.
Hope shows no life signs at all.
Proved a vain hope on inspection.
The sure promise was rejection.

Once you’ve felt that heavy blow
Other torments come, and go.
Memories prompt second-guessing.
Gifts and photos prove distressing.
Your course is lost past all correction.
Love has foundered on rejection.

What is left? An aching void,
Ashes of a dream destroyed,
Bitter rue, and woe, and then
Loneliness drops down again.
Pallor shows in your complection.
You live on—for more rejection.
The Unkindest Kind of Cut
Rather obvious, actually.  It hurts in matters other than the heart, but rejection there is the deepest wound, and the slowest of all to heal. Such wounds too often prove fatal, to oneself or others. Don't let them, for this, too, is survivable.  But... dire.
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(for Alex Karnes, and Company)

I am not much like other men.
I’ve known that since I don’t know when.
Something drives me ever on
Towards a world fools think is gone.
I have skills beyond their ken.
       I make Titans move again.

Others cluster ‘round my flame,
Driven in ways much the same
Towards a distant gleaming light
Caught up in my willing plight
To bring back what once has been:
       To make Titans move again.

The monsters slumber, cold and still.
We emerge and work our will.
Banishing old rust with flame,
Wielding forces few can tame.
Arcane knowledge tells us when
       We’ll make Titans move again.

The groaning power we can feel
Watching warmth awaken steel.
Faithful genius springs to life!
Steam and oil meet in strife.
The beast stirs within its den:
       Mark!  The Titan moves again!

NOW is the appointed hour!
It shall move, display its power!
Triumphant returns the Past!
Fire and water surge and blast!
Stare in stupor, little men!
       Now the Titan MOVES AGAIN!
Healer of Giants
Two dear friends of great talent have birthdays near my own--and I try with what skills I possess to do them due honor.  This one is for:

www.deviantart.com/paxaeternum

who has taken dormant engines of great power--and, with his brilliant companions--restored them to function and to life.
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deviantID

MensjeDeZeemeermin
Wendy Terwilleger
United States
Just a note...

I am very grateful to any artist with the kindness and consideration to share that person's creativity.  It takes courage, gives someone a real chance to hurt you with a cruel internet comment, and you risk your most precious dreams and visions being trampled or mocked by thoughtless people.

I am very grateful.  I try to make some small return with praise, support, and USEFUL NEVER CRUEL comments.  If you can't say something nice... But I also know, very well, the ache and emptiness that comes from no feedback on something you had the courage to share...

AND... (not a 'but.'  Please don't ignore everything before the 'but!')

When you put a large, obscuring watermark through your art, you are obviously more concerned about someone stealing your work than seeing your work.  As I see it, it rather negates the whole thing involved with putting it up at all.  I want to see the picture, not a distracting graphic--and not all watermarks ARE distracting graphics!  If you make that impossible, it's your choice, but know this from me:

I will not comment upon or award a 'favorite' to any picture, no matter how good, or how in need of friendly suggestions, that has such a large and distracting watermark upon it.  By all means, do whatever you wish or think best with your creativity--but when I can't appreciate it, I won't support it.  I hate to say this in addition, but it's a simple flat truth--most of the stuff I see protected by a large, distracting watermark didn't have snowball's chance in Hades of being copied or stolen.

To those of you who so unselfishly share--thank you, so very much.

Wendy

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:iconfilthymoon:
filthymoon Featured By Owner Jun 7, 2019  New Deviant Hobbyist General Artist
I know english literature very bad, but if I choose from everyone who I know, I'd say that you are my favorite.
You're so talented and skilled poetess. Someday I want to buy your collection of poems turned into a little book.
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:iconmensjedezeemeermin:
MensjeDeZeemeermin Featured By Owner Jun 10, 2019
I'm so honored and touched, Dear One.  I'm also very grateful for your kind marks of esteem.
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:iconmerman1234:
Merman1234 Featured By Owner May 16, 2019
Hi, I have new commissions on my deviantart site!  :)
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:iconmensjedezeemeermin:
MensjeDeZeemeermin Featured By Owner May 16, 2019
Thanks for the heads-up and for sharing them!
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:iconmartintimmins:
martintimmins Featured By Owner Apr 25, 2019  Hobbyist General Artist
Hello, thank you for your comment, if you like mermaids, and centaurs, i have some in my gallery, if you would like to have a look, please do so!
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:iconmensjedezeemeermin:
MensjeDeZeemeermin Featured By Owner Apr 25, 2019
I went through all of it.  You have both a strong imagination and a clear talent.
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:iconannazlove:
AnnaZLove Featured By Owner Apr 24, 2019  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank-you by KmyGraphic   very much for the Llama! 
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:iconannazlove:
AnnaZLove Featured By Owner Apr 22, 2019  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you very much for the +fav Thanks by KmyGraphic   
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:iconstillarebel:
stillarebel Featured By Owner Apr 14, 2019
Thanks for the fave
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:iconmensjedezeemeermin:
MensjeDeZeemeermin Featured By Owner Apr 15, 2019
I don't often do dragon, my 'Favorites' are to show people how I think things should be drawn.  Your image is how dragons should be drawn. 
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