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Our Father

O

Our Father

            The bank people leave a stack of papers for our review. We don't understand a word.              "Read it out loud," Father says.            We read it out loud. We still don't understand it, but we hear, from beneath the house, a creaking, and then, as we read the last words, the wail of something starved and lonely. We drop the papers. The wailing stops.            Father decides the youngest one must go down to see what it is. She pales when she hears this, her bright red hair frizzing around her face. "I- I don't-" she stammers. Father points at the back door, and she leaves, her body stiff and her steps weighted.      

Snow Hunt (Assignment for CatsOfTheMoonFall)

S

Snow Hunt (Assignment for CatsOfTheMoonFall)

Mosspaw felt a shiver run through her bones as she looked out across the frozen landscape. Okay. The wind tore at her fur like thorns. Brokenstar said that if each cat brings back a couple pieces of prey, we should be good until tomorrow. She drew in a long breath, tasting the air on her tongue. Huh. No prey-scent. Her stomach growled at the thought of food. Maybe this wouldn't be so easy...          The BreezeClan apprentice began to trudge forward, her eyes scanning the snow crust for tracks. Each step sent twinges of cold shooting up and down her legs. She thought longingly of her nest in the apprentices' den, wishing she were still curl

City

C

City

City gates at Christmastime cloaked in gold and silver vines icy snowflakes spin and dance Santa's reindeer soon will prance Paths spin out from city square where frosted laughter fills the air snowplows lick the frozen streets to clear the way for busy feet Way up on the rooftops high owls watch the cars go by slushy snow and mud kicked up children squeal and dodge the muck Sunlight fades as night draws near the great clock chimes for all to hear sleepy ones are tucked in bed dreams of tomorrow safe in their heads The stars are high, the moon is low and all the world is full of snow then, shining bright for all to see a glow starts by

When You Can't Write a Poem

W

When You Can't Write a Poem

When you can't write a poem your insides turn gray your pen shrivels up you've got nothing to say. When you can't write a poem the world seems so bleak your sorrow is endless a hill with no peak. When you can't write a poem the sun never shines and the words on the page simply don't want to rhyme. When you can't write a poem remember what's true: you don't write the poem the poem writes you.
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Our Father

O

Our Father

            The bank people leave a stack of papers for our review. We don't understand a word.              "Read it out loud," Father says.            We read it out loud. We still don't understand it, but we hear, from beneath the house, a creaking, and then, as we read the last words, the wail of something starved and lonely. We drop the papers. The wailing stops.            Father decides the youngest one must go down to see what it is. She pales when she hears this, her bright red hair frizzing around her face. "I- I don't-" she stammers. Father points at the back door, and she leaves, her body stiff and her steps weighted.      

Snow Hunt (Assignment for CatsOfTheMoonFall)

S

Snow Hunt (Assignment for CatsOfTheMoonFall)

Mosspaw felt a shiver run through her bones as she looked out across the frozen landscape. Okay. The wind tore at her fur like thorns. Brokenstar said that if each cat brings back a couple pieces of prey, we should be good until tomorrow. She drew in a long breath, tasting the air on her tongue. Huh. No prey-scent. Her stomach growled at the thought of food. Maybe this wouldn't be so easy...          The BreezeClan apprentice began to trudge forward, her eyes scanning the snow crust for tracks. Each step sent twinges of cold shooting up and down her legs. She thought longingly of her nest in the apprentices' den, wishing she were still curl

City

C

City

City gates at Christmastime cloaked in gold and silver vines icy snowflakes spin and dance Santa's reindeer soon will prance Paths spin out from city square where frosted laughter fills the air snowplows lick the frozen streets to clear the way for busy feet Way up on the rooftops high owls watch the cars go by slushy snow and mud kicked up children squeal and dodge the muck Sunlight fades as night draws near the great clock chimes for all to hear sleepy ones are tucked in bed dreams of tomorrow safe in their heads The stars are high, the moon is low and all the world is full of snow then, shining bright for all to see a glow starts by

When You Can't Write a Poem

W

When You Can't Write a Poem

When you can't write a poem your insides turn gray your pen shrivels up you've got nothing to say. When you can't write a poem the world seems so bleak your sorrow is endless a hill with no peak. When you can't write a poem the sun never shines and the words on the page simply don't want to rhyme. When you can't write a poem remember what's true: you don't write the poem the poem writes you.
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When You Can't Write a Poem

W

When You Can't Write a Poem

When you can't write a poem your insides turn gray your pen shrivels up you've got nothing to say. When you can't write a poem the world seems so bleak your sorrow is endless a hill with no peak. When you can't write a poem the sun never shines and the words on the page simply don't want to rhyme. When you can't write a poem remember what's true: you don't write the poem the poem writes you.
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Artist // Student // Literature
  • Feb 12
  • United States
  • Deviant for 7 years
  • She / Her
Badges
Ninja Llama: Llamas are awesome! (519)
birthdAy '10: decade of deviousness
I've seen it: It's Coming -- Stay Tuned!
My Bio
NOTE: This account is once again mostly inactive. Feel free to have a look around, though!

Hello, world! My name is Caroline. I'm a collection of energy and ancient stardust, just like you (I adore the idea that we're all made up of exploded stars).

Up until last June, I was a homeschooler who was taking about a million hours of dance classes every week in tap, precision tap (think Rockette kicklines), ballet, pointe (for one year), jazz, lyrical, and hip hop. Since then, I've graduated from both my homeschool and my dance studio, and I'll be heading off to college in the fall. (My senior year of high school was so hectic that I decided to take the next year off to do the whole finding-a-college routine)

Anyone who flips through my gallery knows that I don't just dance; I write. A lot. Every day, if I can manage it. I'm able to think more clearly when I write. I started journaling daily on January 1, 2013, and I haven't stopped since. (Before that, I kept journals, but weeks or even months would go by between one entry and the next.) My journals are for the true stuff, but my notebooks contain mostly unexplored, magnificent fictional worlds in which I plop down characters and wait for them to do something. Sometimes I write stories or poems based off my life in my notebooks, but it's mostly just fiction.
None of my work has been officially published yet, but I have had some of my work printed in anthologies for programs I've attended, and I've written a commissioned screenplay for a local film acting group for kids and teens. To see some of my written work, click here: snowstormninja24.deviantart.co…

I also like to draw puffs, though I haven't in a really long time! (snowstormninja24.deviantart.co…). It's surprisingly relaxing to spend twenty minutes or so making teeny-tiny colored lines on a piece of paper.

For more about what's been going on in my life since I left deviantART, check out this journal: snowstormninja24.deviantart.co…





About my tagline: According to a couple of internet sources, J.M. Barry, the author of Peter Pan, said Be kinder than necessary. It's some of the best advice I've ever heard.


Questions? Comments? Just want to say hello? I'm not a scary person! Feel free to comment below. Just keep in mind that it may take me forever to get back to you, and that anything negative will be reported and deleted. :)

Comments 815

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 You do not need to thank me for favoriting your work! Go make more art instead!

That being said, if you really want to thank me, give me a llama badge. Or donate a few points. Or give me a feature. Or go do something nice for somebody else. 

Just please don't clutter up my comments section with "thanks for the fave" messages!
  



If you already sent me a thank you message, don't worry, I won't hate you or anything. Next time, just take a peek at my gallery instead.
Happy birthday! May it be a day of perfect weather and joyful bliss! One you'll enjoy to often offer reminisce.
Happy birthday! :happybounce: :love:
Wishing you the very happiest of birthdays, my dear!  :hug: 

:carnivorouscake: 
Thank you!! I had a very happy birthday. :aww: :hug:
Happy birthdaaaaaaaaaaaaaay! :happybounce: :love: Hi! :squee: Dance!