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120 deviations

Featured
24 deviations

Fractals
29 deviations

Turkey
30 deviations

Drawings
5 deviations
Literature
Horseman's Children
As I was eating my breakfast cereal I heard the thudding and rustling of loaded horses galloping through the bushes to stop in our backyard where my father was gardening. My spoon hovered high above my bowl, brimming with wheaty stars floating in their lake of milk. Peering over the spoon I could see my stepmother's pregnant belly shuffle around the kitchen.Moments later my father came in the backdoor, his face hidden in stubble and spectacles.How is everything going sweetie? my stepmother asked, painting croûtons with garlic at the counter with her back to him.There are a lot of weeds. I'm going to be out there all day. He rubbed ...
Writings - Cold
4 deviations
Literature
The Festival
Behind the spice bazaar at midnight on the first of every month, the four orphaned quadruplets would reunite to share their stolen spoils and wax their moustaches for the upcoming festival. The sharp and gritty scents of cumin, saffron and nutmeg would leak out of cloth stalls and dance around the young men: Azad, Akçay, Adnan, and Akar. They would all sit on their heels under the metal moon, remove their fezzes, and converse.Yesterday was the first of November. The air was still and cool, and sails of ships could be seen rocking gently in the harbor. The four brothers had just, as was customary, finished waxing their moustaches with b...
Writings - Warm
5 deviations

Escrito en castellano
5 deviations
Literature
Cajun Shrimp
Cajun Shrimp I think I still feel rain on your face.
Philadelphia colors receding clouds
a mellow urban purple,
and puddles on the road glow ragged
ginger in the street lamps.
Alternating lights of the “PED XING” sign
throw our shadows back and forth.
Color fades away into darkness, but
there is durability amongst this wilting.
Far-off headlights paint sweeping shadows across our world.You off into the dorm and I quest for ice cream,
but I’m not quite sure where I’m going, and, worse,
I don’t know which flavor is our favorite.
Crunched footsteps in snow lead my way,
and I find ice cream names poems in themselves.
We might die, but “Black F...
Old Writings
14 deviations

Scraps
47 deviations









