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I feel that in light of the last few years that I owe the group, and community at large, an apology.

However, there's a story to tell. I will try to make this as terse as possible. I will try to not point fingers, as there are usually three or four pointing back at you from your own hand when one attempts this. There's a TL;DR at the bottom.

It was November of 2009. I was in my senior year of high school. I had just had surgery to remove what we thought may have been a cancerous or leukemia infected lymph node from under my arm. Prescription strength, poppy-derived medication flowed through my veins. I found that I was writing poetry, something I'd done off and migrated from another site, Elftown, to dA.

Groups had recently been announced, but not launched. However you could get in on it early, with a little work. Surveying the group landscape of dA at the time, there were few literature groups. Of these few groups, some were poetry, but were selective. I wanted a group that embraced all poetry. So, OnlyPoetry was born.

And then it got big. My afternoon experiment grew. Exponentially. At first I could handle it myself, but as it grew so did the responsibilities. I added someone I knew that I could personally trust. We were able to handle this for a while more. Before long, the group grew too large to handle with just two people. So, we started to look for moderators to help out. We got some applicants and we even started to show them what we needed, but it never panned out. I'm not certain if this was due to my naivete at the time, or their lack of commitment, but I'm inclined to blame me.

Then we had someone we thought we could trust to take care of things as I was in college full-time, starting a new job, and had proposed to my wife. Most will find and agree that as you get older your priorities, desires, and commitments change. Studies, work and love had become the things I decided to focus on. So my artwork and, by extension, this group fell to the wayside in the process. I wish it hadn't been so. The other admin was under similar constraints. She moved clear across the country to attend university. She found out new things about herself and had new priorities as well. Suddenly, those things in our physical realm became more important than our digital realm. C'est la vie.

The person whom we left the group with was clearly not prepared to do so, through no fault of their own. We also failed to exchange sufficient contact information outside of dA. My fault again. However, we (my self and my original co-founder) do not condone the way in which this person handled the group or all its affairs. We also do not condemn it all outright either. We applaud their openness with the group. However, in our estimation of events, very few attempts at contact were made if this person wanted to be the new group owner.

I also encountered another problem in my personal life. When my wife and I married, we moved over three hours from home. Then I had a serious injury. At that time I had written what is becoming this entry. I was looking for someone to take over the group. I developed memory loss problems. I could barely remember what happened two hours ago, let alone things I had just said. I forgot about OnlyPoetry and the family that had been built around it. I forgot to give support to those that needed it. Chemical imbalances in my head were restored and these problems are nowhere near what they were. I still forget, like an elderly man forgets where he placed his cane, wallet, and teeth. But I can remember most of my appointments and commitments now.

Now we come around full circle to where we stand. There are those who will still be confused, upset, saddened, or harboring untoward feelings for myself or the group. I again apologize. I have some thinking to do, as I have far less commitments in my life. My wife and I moved yet again. I now only have one job, instead of the three I've carried for the last few years. I have leadership and maturity under my belt, tools in my arsenal that I didn't have five years ago.

TL;DR - Had medical problems, life took priority and I'm only human. Things went downhill. I'm sorry.

Membership should be is open again, for those that wish to join.

Will we start again, possibly. Will this take some time, yes. Will I need help if we do it, yes. Can I do it by myself, no.

Expect another entry in a short while.
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:iconmelodydrawz:
MelodyDrawz Featured By Owner Jan 28, 2021  Student Digital Artist
Plastic BottlePlastic bottlemade to be trash.Dead after a single use.To the garbagewith others likeme, discarded and useless.Melted, I risefrom the asheslike a majestic phoenix.I'm remolded,reshaped, reborninto a brand new body.I'm now a toyto make a kidhappy and to play with them.I'm something new,something cherished,loved unconditionally.Once a bottle,now a plaything.A new life ahead of me.  Self-ExpressionI love toex press my selfIn many different formsMusically Artistically PoeticallyAll these are fun unique excitingThey make me feel free happy in controlWhen I see a blank canvasI see what could be there its limitless potential endless possibilities For me, creativity is an escape calming therapeutic freeing beautifulBy getting thoughts into wordsor ideas onto paperI can learn moreabout myself and my emotions.I can get a better handleon myself and hopefullygive myself some insighton the inner workings of my own mind.For me, self- expression is also self-discovery.Who knows what I'll find tomorrow?  InspirationWhy do we write, scribbling ink onto paper?Why do we do it now instead of later?Why indeed do we do so many things in life, Instead of facing head on its many strifes?For some, these stanzas and rhymes help a bit. They make us think and let us control it. Illusions of stability made by turning thoughts into words, Otherwise, would any of us even be heard?Flowing,                Freeform,                                  Uniquely                                         structured,Or perhaps evenA short and simple haikuPacked with a large punch.So many different types await the creative mind.Some may choose to let them rhyme entwined, Or to let them fall flat without a twin. There is no wrong way to write, Nor is there a wrong reason, But to ignore it at all, Commits against yourself treason. Let the creative juices flow freely, Let them go how they might.However your poem turns out, Just make sure            it feels               right.   The Question, Unanswered. Me and my boo, together today.
Me and my baby, sharing a parfait.
Soon a question must be asked,
But it's a very daunting task...
Will she like it, will she agree?
When I finally bend down on one knee?
I shiver in anticipation,
My heartbeat must be heard across the nation...
Quietly I whisper in her ear,
"I have a question, can you come here?"
She nods her head with a smile.
I love her so all the while.
I lead her out away from the crowd,
Her answer could be very loud...
Will she laugh, will she cry?
Will she say no before telling me goodbye?
We are alone now, the sun is setting.
My hope, my love is what she'll be getting.
She looks out across the sea,
And then she smiles back at me.
But then, a figure comes into view.
A dark shadow appears out of the blue.
I catch a glimpse of a sword, glistening with red.
I look at my baby, I look at her dead.
Her face is in pain, her eyes glazed over.
I have no words, I simply hover.
Slowly, I bend over her body.
The blood on her shirt has become bl
  ClosedClosed. The sign seemed to mock me as I stood there, trying to see if there was something I missed. This place couldn’t be closed. This couldn’t be real. I read over it one more time. “Due to the lack of use, this building is CLOSED INDEFINITELY, or until further notice.” A few more times it repeated itself in my head until I realized the horrifying truth of the situation. This was really happening. My one freedom from reality was taken from me. The library was gone. Peering into the lobby through the glass double doors, I saw the books sitting there, just beyond my reach. The shelves were as full as always, hundreds of thousands of novels, millions of pages of knowledge and mystery, excitement and freedom, calm and romance. Closed. Gone. Just too far away. Everything started to sink in. I had always liked how quiet it was in there, perfect for diving into a fantasy realm. I guess I never thought about how I was their only patron. I never thought about the impact that had, and now it was all gone. The damage was done. Thinking back on it, I don’t think I’ve ever even seen cars in the parking lot, save for mine and the librarian’s. I took a step back to take it all in. The doors, showing me my haven yet keeping me away from it. The sign which, despite my prayers, hadn’t changed. The brown brick walls guarding the books’ home. I tilted my head up to look at the cloudless blue sky, and I swore I could see flames. Invisible tendrils of fire licked the heavens, growing bigger and stronger with every second. The fire, burning with ignorance, enveloped the unnaturally silent building. My face grew hotter and hotter at the sight of them until, finally, I couldn’t bear to look at it any longer. My head fell and my whole body visibly drooped, like a wilting flower. My shoulders shook as I wept. At some point I noticed that I wasn’t even standing any more, feeling the hard pavement under my knees. I don’t know how long I sat there, but when I finally stopped, the sun had fallen low in the sky. I realized that I should probably go home, my parents would’ve been waiting for me. At my car I paused, looking back at the tragedy. The sky was darker, and the cooler lighting made it seem like a burnt up lump of coal. I thought of the future, the ramifications this would have. You don’t need to burn books to destroy a culture. You just need to get people to stop reading them.... 
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:iconaskoliimatainen:
AskoLiimatainen Featured By Owner Aug 14, 2020  Hobbyist Writer
The mind of a landscape painterPainter carefully paints with a thought.He forms painting essentially emotional in originfor it moved his heart, and he recorded what nature brought,an effect in nature, making others hearts movingHe tries to offer feeling of homagewith his careful brush strokeswhile trying to keep his promiseto not go overboard with his own hoaxPresenting nature as it is For nature doesn't need fantasiesWith small amount of soul of hisHe knows, it's his canvas where truth liesIn that canvas you see,is the reality in eyes of the painteras he copied what his consciousness made to seefor painter is just an entertainerIt his consciousness that's creates the projectionand he then with his paint strokes copies it to the canvas.Essentially copying his own creationand from his own perception creating glances.It is only his eyessee the way they see that landscapeAnd it is where it diesIf he doesn't give to canvas it's shapeBe quiet, you can then hearthe whispers in the middle of the leavesThe spirit there quietly sings, shedding it tearsas it's own invisibility grievesYou see, the fate assigned to it isthat it has no eyes of its own at allThrough other eyes, it only seesthat it does not own the beauty of fallBut it delights the painter with every stroke of brushfor that beautiful is his creation.It causes the spirit to blushfor it is its most beautiful translation  AbraxasWhere wickedness is inhabited has been seen,
there's a good entangled in it,
in all that is and has always been.Not separately, they can't be split.For they are the one and only, being coexisting
and not opposites of each other at all.Here in this moment, there existing,
and it is destined to befallLight will not conquer the darkness
because there is nothing to conquer
for darkness exists regardless,
behold, from all this it only becomes stronger.But still, in each of us,
two natures are at warAnd the battle between them continues throughout our lives,
even though there is nothing to fight for

You have the power of light
and you also have the power of darkness
All together, you are Abraxas, all that is right,
all that is beyond us.

Only there can you find
some kind of happiness
and not be blind,
for then we will dwell only in darkness
  Please tell me title for this poemI smiledand I continued to smileeven though I was slapped in the faceall day, all nightI felt the pain of othersI couldn't revoke the paineven though I had my druthersI could only see myself to drainI was in constant fear of future,always trying to achieve something,but all I had was my destiny for the benefit of the userand I only could meet with nothingWe fail to realize how much importancewe put to unnecessary things in our lifes,so we give too much effort for the perfomanceand so deeper and deeper into our flesh we press our knivesLife is inexpressible a hellbut there's beauty in all that miseryand waiting for that death knellI guess it kind of gives all such a great mysteryWe rarely show our true natureand there is a reason why we are the dark side of the moonWe hide behind our portraitureso we can stay in our shady boon.Maybe in time I’ll be able to resist it all, but now, even for a moment, nullity is also stressful to take it lightly And no one can tell because I hold on to everything too tightly  Not sure how to name this oneThere are no stars here in the darkness of the night No foam heads on top of stagnant and rotting sea Here, they take my spirits sight Even glistering health is desert for the soul here Your soul knows it The shortest, safest distance Fate, you must face it There shouldn't be resistance With passion it works to wait The soul, like cancer, wants to eat Get out of the hate Out of these shackles it wants out This fog has already covered my sight too long The landscape long ago disappeared into a cloud curtain For a moment I couldn't hear birdsong And I was uncertain I don't miss to go back to sleep That loneliness, when it is bathed in there happily And laughed how everything here is so cheap In that ego, we treat ourselves so crappily Think about the life you have lived Did you live as nature meant? But I guess you just for remained deprived Unhappy, not ready to augment  Between two darknessesDarkness
There is too much darkness in life
And too little light
There should be more light

Darkness, however is a gift
And when we are given box full of darkness
We should be loved by it
Taking advantage of our starkness

There is the darkness of lovers
And it is what the bearer wishes it to be
It is not wholly bad or good
It just is what it needs to be

I can't go deep enough into myself
Oh God, how I scream down here
I can't keep up with this silence
In my solitude I disappear

This is my symphony
Played in explosions of silence
I am fallen in love with this noise
Without ideals or violence
 
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