Snowy Valentine.:Contest Entry:. by Missvirginia on DeviantArt

Missvirginia on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/missvirginia/art/Bolin-and-Korra-Funsies-Colored-307090969Missvirginia

Missvirginia on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/missvirginia/art/Check-Out-My-Stock-Photography-832867692Missvirginia

Missvirginia on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/missvirginia/art/GIMP-Half-Tone-Comic-Tutorial-534089584Missvirginia

Missvirginia on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/missvirginia/art/Comic-Speech-Bubble-Tutorial-GIMP-412947552Missvirginia

Missvirginia on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/missvirginia/art/Charred-Memories-391192730Missvirginia

Missvirginia on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/missvirginia/art/I-Support-the-Noahic-Covenant-543470532Missvirginia

Missvirginia on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/missvirginia/art/Manga-Eye-Tutorial-For-GIMP-260827342Missvirginia

Missvirginia on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/missvirginia/art/6-Step-Icon-212415130Missvirginia

Missvirginia on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/missvirginia/art/The-Girls-Commission-472001804Missvirginia

Promoted Deviations

Literature

Not Sacrifice, Fulfillment

To My Daughters, One Day When You Read This I want you both to understand something clearly, without confusion, without the weight that so many children grow up carrying: I never sacrificed for you. That’s not how I see it. That’s not what this has been. One day, you may look back at the life I lived and say things like, “Dad gave up a lot for us.” But I need you to know now, while this moment still lives fresh in my heart—I didn’t give anything up. I chose it. And I would choose it again. Because helping you find your passions… was never a burden. It was joy. It was purpose. It was the clearest, most sacred use of the love I carry for you. There’s no pair of shoes, no car, no trip or luxury or shiny thing in this world that could bring me the kind of joy I feel when I see your eyes light up doing something you love. Whether it’s cheerleading or gymnastics or whatever new dream enters your heart next year or ten years from now—supporting that isn’t sacrifice. It’s

Literature

Finding the New Green

Damp earth opens to the light today, Dark and heavy with the scent of old frost. I walk the fence in the early mist, Finding the new green in the dirt. Mossy velvet grips the north side of the oak, A low, green rug for the beetles to climb. Mint-light cuts through the new leaves, Staining the rough bark with a quiet strength. Sharp spears of grass break the asphalt, Drinking the cold rain from a Tuesday sky. Silver ribbons tie the garden to the clouds, Holding the wild world in a tight, wet knot. Nothing is missing; the land is whole. A restless green climbs the stems, And the slow work of the light has just begun. © 2026 QuillandInkWhispers, All Rights Reserved

Literature

The Lights Along the Tunnel (Poem)

The Lights Along the Tunnel By J.C. Solis There is a boy that’s alone in this world In a dark place where his life has unfurled An abyss of nothing, no chance of sight A place so sullen, devoid of all light There is a boy who cries into the dark A boy who carries on life grown so stark A light bulb above him, tears are now shed Surrounded by dark, of living and dead The light bulb now flickers, he must move on To find a new light before grace is now gone Along the tunnel, a new light still glows Along this tunnel, the darkness still grows The light bulb is snuffed, his cries now get worse The life of the child now becomes a curse The path is ahead, to the next light he goes Yet how to get there, nobody does know The dark ravine, he must cross through life’s pain A feeling, through turmoil, that never wains The life in the dark that tries to snuff hope The life that all humans must come to cope The Life he must live, it hurts and is coarse Yet he must move on, as

Suggested Deviants

serena-fe-murphy

Literature

Let Me Speak

Let me put in my humble peice to the greater conversance. Despite your talking over me I will speak in defiance. This is my introduction This is simply me No matter what comes later I know who I will be. Even if I whisper I know what I am saying I will not bend, nor break I am standing and staying. If you do not hear I will still speak and you may think you've found me You must still seek

Literature

To Write

When writing, it is important to take in other words and not just make your own voice be heard. To write, one must read ideas, different from your own. To break outside the box your mind calls home

Literature

I Am Not Lonely

I am alone, though I am not lonely. As my mind is filled with things Man may be a social creature but I cannot live with pressure people bring. I prefer the company of myself where I am in control of course, there are people I enjoy and others with which I share a soul. But I am not lonely alone. Being alone means I can escape into worlds of fantasy and write myself a new landscape. So, worry not for myself I am alone but, I am alright Do not be lonely alone! I'll share my fire so you, too, can write.

Suggested Collections

Writer's Note

the-stuepp on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/the-stuepp/art/Yule-25-Day-06-Spiritual-Renewal-1277187398the-stuepp

Lumaerian on DeviantArthttp://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/https://www.deviantart.com/lumaerian/art/No-Poem-1197984398Lumaerian

Literature

THE DARKNESS

THE DARKNESS I was there with me in the darkness no one talking no one calling just me the darkness the shame my failures I looked out the window kept the light off didn't need it for I knew I was alone in the darkness the wind had its menacing torment on my front tree the rain falling laughed at me in my sorrow I could not find anyone who spoke my name for it was late and the stars mocked my life I was there with me in the darkness with my gun my shame my empty echo so I pulled the trigger in the darkness the empy space fell into the abyss like my name and my purpose creation became silent as the sun rose once more for everyone above my darkness MARQUIS AMON 2024

Literature

Barosus on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/barosus/art/What-Dreams-May-Dare-971655253Barosus

Literature

Love and Hate

I thought I loved only to realize, I haven't hated, until I did. Then, it was all the same to me. Love and hate. Actually, I would've preferred it if you sincerely hated me. At least in one way, I would've been sure how sincere the feelings were. With love, you just never know...the amount, strength, durability. Hate, however, is timeless, endless, once you start hating on something, someone, it never truly goes away. You either hate them, that, all the time or you swallow the hate and turn a bit more bitter each time you do so. Each time, you become a bit worse of a person than you used to be, than you remember yourself to be. Eventually, by hating them and that, you start hating yourself. After that, no amount of love, from them and that can help you. Not even your love can help you, your love towards the world and yourself. You're ruined. So, when you ask me, again and if you do ask me, what's stronger, love or hate, know that once I've loved every creation of this world only to get

Literature

She Is The Ocean

She (The Ocean) She is the ocean and I but a drop of water She lies waiting as I fall from the mountaintop rolling and tumbling along the rivers ever traveling ever yearning to be part of Her to add my essence to her whole but She is the Ocean and I a drop of water my importance is small an' yet I travel on till I lie once again cradled in Her arms for She is the Ocean and I but a drop of water

Writing

Literature

Sonnet: The Rockhounds

Earth hides treasures held deep within her heart That those who have the skill can sometimes find And, taking them, they practice skillful art By which their shape and luster are refined. Formed with precision cuts by diamond saws They take an intricate and cunning shape And grinding banishes their surface flaws. Now the passing glance cannot escape What God and craft have rendered passing fair. Their subtle colors soothe and, silent, please The hand or eye that lights upon them there. They can delight and give one’s vision ease. Their booth holds such refined and royal rocks To greet a lucky eye in opened box.

Literature

On True Crime

Some nights, I sit with stories stitched together from confession tapes and grainy mugshots, and the voice of a detective who’s seen too much. I tell myself it’s curiosity— a need to understand the jagged edges where ordinary people break. I listen to the details— the way a neighbor says, “I never would have guessed,” how the friends replay every memory like a movie in reverse, searching for the scene where everything tilted. The facts are ugly, not thrilling, not neat, and bring a revelation that anyone could be someone else entirely behind the grocery store smile, the polite small talk, the hands that once picked wildflowers. I stare at the ceiling after, wondering how close I’ve ignorantly come to danger— how many kind faces were masks. True crime leaves me raw, reminds me that knowing is a privilege, and most of us are mysteries even to ourselves.

Literature

The Petulant Child Who Would be King

The man speaks from a podium, his words garbled and hears only his own echo, expecting approval and applause, rejecting dissent as treachery. Down the halls, he stomps— a child in a tailored suit, demanding the world rearrange itself to fit the shape of his reflection. A crown of noise upon his head, he claims the executive chair as his throne, his decrees whimsical and petulant, rooted in a hunger for power— a need to see himself mighty. He wraps himself in the nation’s flag as though it were a king’s mantle— asserting ownership of the land, clenching tighter when it resists. Around him, foundations strain— well-established pillars creaking under the weight of his ego. Truth fractures, trust erodes, and hearts are set ablaze with rage. Yet still he insists on praise— that his edicts be as unquestioned as a deity’s commands. For authority, to him, is not a position of duty or service, but a prize to seize, a trophy to flaunt, a place from which to dominate without consequence

Featured in Groups

Missvirginia on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/missvirginia/art/Bolin-and-Korra-Funsies-Colored-307090969Missvirginia

Missvirginia on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/missvirginia/art/Check-Out-My-Stock-Photography-832867692Missvirginia

Missvirginia on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/missvirginia/art/GIMP-Half-Tone-Comic-Tutorial-534089584Missvirginia

Missvirginia on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/missvirginia/art/Comic-Speech-Bubble-Tutorial-GIMP-412947552Missvirginia

Missvirginia on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/missvirginia/art/Charred-Memories-391192730Missvirginia

Missvirginia on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/missvirginia/art/I-Support-the-Noahic-Covenant-543470532Missvirginia

Missvirginia on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/missvirginia/art/Manga-Eye-Tutorial-For-GIMP-260827342Missvirginia

Missvirginia on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/missvirginia/art/6-Step-Icon-212415130Missvirginia

Missvirginia on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/missvirginia/art/The-Girls-Commission-472001804Missvirginia

Promoted Deviations

Literature

Not Sacrifice, Fulfillment

To My Daughters, One Day When You Read This I want you both to understand something clearly, without confusion, without the weight that so many children grow up carrying: I never sacrificed for you. That’s not how I see it. That’s not what this has been. One day, you may look back at the life I lived and say things like, “Dad gave up a lot for us.” But I need you to know now, while this moment still lives fresh in my heart—I didn’t give anything up. I chose it. And I would choose it again. Because helping you find your passions… was never a burden. It was joy. It was purpose. It was the clearest, most sacred use of the love I carry for you. There’s no pair of shoes, no car, no trip or luxury or shiny thing in this world that could bring me the kind of joy I feel when I see your eyes light up doing something you love. Whether it’s cheerleading or gymnastics or whatever new dream enters your heart next year or ten years from now—supporting that isn’t sacrifice. It’s

Literature

Finding the New Green

Damp earth opens to the light today, Dark and heavy with the scent of old frost. I walk the fence in the early mist, Finding the new green in the dirt. Mossy velvet grips the north side of the oak, A low, green rug for the beetles to climb. Mint-light cuts through the new leaves, Staining the rough bark with a quiet strength. Sharp spears of grass break the asphalt, Drinking the cold rain from a Tuesday sky. Silver ribbons tie the garden to the clouds, Holding the wild world in a tight, wet knot. Nothing is missing; the land is whole. A restless green climbs the stems, And the slow work of the light has just begun. © 2026 QuillandInkWhispers, All Rights Reserved

Literature

The Lights Along the Tunnel (Poem)

The Lights Along the Tunnel By J.C. Solis There is a boy that’s alone in this world In a dark place where his life has unfurled An abyss of nothing, no chance of sight A place so sullen, devoid of all light There is a boy who cries into the dark A boy who carries on life grown so stark A light bulb above him, tears are now shed Surrounded by dark, of living and dead The light bulb now flickers, he must move on To find a new light before grace is now gone Along the tunnel, a new light still glows Along this tunnel, the darkness still grows The light bulb is snuffed, his cries now get worse The life of the child now becomes a curse The path is ahead, to the next light he goes Yet how to get there, nobody does know The dark ravine, he must cross through life’s pain A feeling, through turmoil, that never wains The life in the dark that tries to snuff hope The life that all humans must come to cope The Life he must live, it hurts and is coarse Yet he must move on, as

Suggested Deviants

serena-fe-murphy

Literature

Let Me Speak

Let me put in my humble peice to the greater conversance. Despite your talking over me I will speak in defiance. This is my introduction This is simply me No matter what comes later I know who I will be. Even if I whisper I know what I am saying I will not bend, nor break I am standing and staying. If you do not hear I will still speak and you may think you've found me You must still seek

Literature

To Write

When writing, it is important to take in other words and not just make your own voice be heard. To write, one must read ideas, different from your own. To break outside the box your mind calls home

Literature

I Am Not Lonely

I am alone, though I am not lonely. As my mind is filled with things Man may be a social creature but I cannot live with pressure people bring. I prefer the company of myself where I am in control of course, there are people I enjoy and others with which I share a soul. But I am not lonely alone. Being alone means I can escape into worlds of fantasy and write myself a new landscape. So, worry not for myself I am alone but, I am alright Do not be lonely alone! I'll share my fire so you, too, can write.

Suggested Collections

Writer's Note

the-stuepp on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/the-stuepp/art/Yule-25-Day-06-Spiritual-Renewal-1277187398the-stuepp

Lumaerian on DeviantArthttp://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/https://www.deviantart.com/lumaerian/art/No-Poem-1197984398Lumaerian

Literature

THE DARKNESS

THE DARKNESS I was there with me in the darkness no one talking no one calling just me the darkness the shame my failures I looked out the window kept the light off didn't need it for I knew I was alone in the darkness the wind had its menacing torment on my front tree the rain falling laughed at me in my sorrow I could not find anyone who spoke my name for it was late and the stars mocked my life I was there with me in the darkness with my gun my shame my empty echo so I pulled the trigger in the darkness the empy space fell into the abyss like my name and my purpose creation became silent as the sun rose once more for everyone above my darkness MARQUIS AMON 2024

Literature

Barosus on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/barosus/art/What-Dreams-May-Dare-971655253Barosus

Literature

Love and Hate

I thought I loved only to realize, I haven't hated, until I did. Then, it was all the same to me. Love and hate. Actually, I would've preferred it if you sincerely hated me. At least in one way, I would've been sure how sincere the feelings were. With love, you just never know...the amount, strength, durability. Hate, however, is timeless, endless, once you start hating on something, someone, it never truly goes away. You either hate them, that, all the time or you swallow the hate and turn a bit more bitter each time you do so. Each time, you become a bit worse of a person than you used to be, than you remember yourself to be. Eventually, by hating them and that, you start hating yourself. After that, no amount of love, from them and that can help you. Not even your love can help you, your love towards the world and yourself. You're ruined. So, when you ask me, again and if you do ask me, what's stronger, love or hate, know that once I've loved every creation of this world only to get

Literature

She Is The Ocean

She (The Ocean) She is the ocean and I but a drop of water She lies waiting as I fall from the mountaintop rolling and tumbling along the rivers ever traveling ever yearning to be part of Her to add my essence to her whole but She is the Ocean and I a drop of water my importance is small an' yet I travel on till I lie once again cradled in Her arms for She is the Ocean and I but a drop of water

Writing

Literature

Sonnet: The Rockhounds

Earth hides treasures held deep within her heart That those who have the skill can sometimes find And, taking them, they practice skillful art By which their shape and luster are refined. Formed with precision cuts by diamond saws They take an intricate and cunning shape And grinding banishes their surface flaws. Now the passing glance cannot escape What God and craft have rendered passing fair. Their subtle colors soothe and, silent, please The hand or eye that lights upon them there. They can delight and give one’s vision ease. Their booth holds such refined and royal rocks To greet a lucky eye in opened box.

Literature

On True Crime

Some nights, I sit with stories stitched together from confession tapes and grainy mugshots, and the voice of a detective who’s seen too much. I tell myself it’s curiosity— a need to understand the jagged edges where ordinary people break. I listen to the details— the way a neighbor says, “I never would have guessed,” how the friends replay every memory like a movie in reverse, searching for the scene where everything tilted. The facts are ugly, not thrilling, not neat, and bring a revelation that anyone could be someone else entirely behind the grocery store smile, the polite small talk, the hands that once picked wildflowers. I stare at the ceiling after, wondering how close I’ve ignorantly come to danger— how many kind faces were masks. True crime leaves me raw, reminds me that knowing is a privilege, and most of us are mysteries even to ourselves.

Literature

The Petulant Child Who Would be King

The man speaks from a podium, his words garbled and hears only his own echo, expecting approval and applause, rejecting dissent as treachery. Down the halls, he stomps— a child in a tailored suit, demanding the world rearrange itself to fit the shape of his reflection. A crown of noise upon his head, he claims the executive chair as his throne, his decrees whimsical and petulant, rooted in a hunger for power— a need to see himself mighty. He wraps himself in the nation’s flag as though it were a king’s mantle— asserting ownership of the land, clenching tighter when it resists. Around him, foundations strain— well-established pillars creaking under the weight of his ego. Truth fractures, trust erodes, and hearts are set ablaze with rage. Yet still he insists on praise— that his edicts be as unquestioned as a deity’s commands. For authority, to him, is not a position of duty or service, but a prize to seize, a trophy to flaunt, a place from which to dominate without consequence

Featured in Groups

Site Header

Deviation Actions

Not Sacrifice, Fulfillment

Finding the New Green

The Lights Along the Tunnel (Poem)

Let Me Speak

To Write

I Am Not Lonely

THE DARKNESS

Love and Hate

She Is The Ocean

Sonnet: The Rockhounds

On True Crime

The Petulant Child Who Would be King

Not Sacrifice, Fulfillment

Finding the New Green

The Lights Along the Tunnel (Poem)

Let Me Speak

To Write

I Am Not Lonely

THE DARKNESS

Love and Hate

She Is The Ocean

Sonnet: The Rockhounds

On True Crime

The Petulant Child Who Would be King

Snowy Valentine.:Contest Entry:.

Description

Not Sacrifice, Fulfillment

Finding the New Green

The Lights Along the Tunnel (Poem)

Let Me Speak

To Write

I Am Not Lonely

THE DARKNESS

Love and Hate

She Is The Ocean

Sonnet: The Rockhounds

On True Crime

The Petulant Child Who Would be King