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About Literature / Hobbyist Stephen SoMale/Australia Recent Activity
Deviant for 15 Years
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Ever after
she's the rustling leaves
in the springtime breeze that
puts my mind at ease-
the voice that grants me peace,
in knowing that winter is over
and the warmth is to return.
she's the chicken soup
on a chilly morning that
warms my heart-
the smell and flavour wafting
through our home, dreamlike
and permeating all this space.
she's the song playing in my ears,
the quiet lullaby that
brings me comfort at night-
her presence; music to my ears;
the sound of her walking by my side
put my fears to rest.
she's my favourite book
that never gets old, the one that
i never tire of reading-
the one where the words change meaning
as i age, the one that grows in depth
as i learn more of its context.
she's the one who i met
years ago, today and that
i hope will meet again tomorrow-
the one who is everything above
and everything
from hereon after.
:iconsto67:sto67 1 2
you are beautiful
you are like that cloud in the horizon
that i saw form from nothing more than blue sky and daylight.
it was magic to me; how the air whisked itself into life,
its wispy strands coming together knitted tightly
and fitting nicely into this picture of you.
like snowflakes falling from the sky
you are one in a million, one of billions
of perfectly structured and arranged
designer pieces of nature fashioned this season;
you are like no other and that is why
i can't take my eyes off you.
you give life to my world
like a thawing river; flowing, running,
ice breaking smaller and softer
until it becomes a warmer, smoother,
streaming rivulet of everything that i admire.
and even if i sound like a liar
you should never doubt that you are what you want to be,
you are who you believe you are,
and that you are absolutely and unequivocally
nothing short of beautiful.
:iconsto67:sto67 1 4
i am adrift; an astronaut
cut loose from his bindings,
searching for that lost attraction
that once kept my feet on the ground.
i am weightless; inactive and unreactive
to the emptiness that surrounds me,
morbidly ineffective against this stifling
sense of nothing filling my skin.
i am hungry; a rabid beast
in an empty cage,
howling to the blank canvas of space
for a slice or sliver of something yours-
because it is your gravity
that kept me bound to the world;
you are Spica to my Virgo,
and i long to fall to you again.
:iconsto67:sto67 1 1
just a whisper
it takes just a whisper;
the shape of moving lips,
the smell of your words
and the sibilance of your longing
to bring me back to life.
i will collect your tears
and return each one to you
like a lost child coming home again;
but we will say nothing when we reunite,
only knowing of lifetimes past
and futures wanting.
it will only take a whisper
to bring me near like an autumn wind;
the one which takes your love away
and sends him back as a memory
of a warm body in an empty bed.
:iconsto67:sto67 2 1
Nomad of the starless sky by sto67 Nomad of the starless sky :iconsto67:sto67 2 3 Sword stealer Zachius by sto67 Sword stealer Zachius :iconsto67:sto67 2 2 Maila the Mirage by sto67 Maila the Mirage :iconsto67:sto67 1 5
he writes me
he writes me
as if each letter was the last
in recorded history.
like literature would deign
to disappear without so much
as a wave of goodbye-
and i hang off his every word;
catlike concentration pawing
the loose threads of his conversation.
he doesn't speak in rhyme
(nor reason sometimes),
but his words speak to me
louder than a shot of epinephrine
and excites me just as well;
like it fills my arteries with
a longing to share your heartbeat
and breathe your air-
but then it's gone.
like a warm bathroom vapour
dispersing out through the open door;
the comfort fades and all that's left
is the cold condensate
dripping slowly down the wall.
:iconsto67:sto67 9 9
dragonscale tiger
the tiger stalks prey
in dragon scales; she's fireproof
and invincible-
the world will see her beauty:
a starving beast in the grass.
:iconsto67:sto67 0 2
a moon coloured breeze
brings your dusty memories
to luminescence-
sounds from starfall and night's end
ignite celluloid fragments.
:iconsto67:sto67 11 12
my life is in your hands
as we sail through the air
like we're on a louis and clark honeymoon-
the people watch as we start the show
yards apart, eventually flung together
by nothing more than laughter and applause.
little do they know that this
is a world for two and the lights
do nothing but dazzle;
we will still dance for them in the dark.
we are skirting death beneath
painted faces and rainbow pants,
clutching tightly until our grasp
leaves fingerprints in our skin.
we come from nothing and yet we cast
such large shadows; fearless
in the face of each other-
our life is a trapeze,
and i am happy to crash and collide
conjoined awkwardly
whilst falling ever
                             so spectacularly
   so disastrously
:iconsto67:sto67 10 6
you pull me aside just to tell me
that i am yours; like i am strung up
by the sibilance that lingers
while you speak.
your voice props me up and
commands me to life.
each crushing consonant burying me
within your grasp-
i can only play the role you give me;
a mannequin that only looks the part
in the store window:
dressed for display, to act
like some sort of poseur to peddle
your brand of seduction.
a puppet cannot choose his parts
but oh how i pray that i could play
the wretched prisoner
and be true to myself for once.
:iconsto67:sto67 0 5
the beginning
like snake eyes in a casino
we found each other
through the miracle of chance-
a muse like no other;
your thoughts rained on me
and i only wished that i transcribed into words
your beautiful mind.
you were my cure for literary apraxia;
like CPR for a crippled mind
you revived my reason to record
in words, what people like me
see, hear and feel in their everydays.
there was no beginning
that defined when you started
speaking through my pen as if possessed
by ghosts of famed reckoning-
i think that you were always there,
waiting to be realized
by the dice of fate.
:iconsto67:sto67 5 6
her eyes gleamed of mischief,
as a smile like the crescent moon
lit up the room with a dreamlike
and they froze in synchrony
like a swiss timepiece, awestruck
by the accuracy in which her facial expressions
tug on every nearby heartstring.
her moonlight flows
beneath a white night gown;
it permeates the pores of fabric
that billow like untied sails
as the wind blows.
if she is the moon, then i am not
the ocean of puppets that rise and fall
to her every whim-

she is a quaint existence;
she waxes and wanes like the moon,
but still her gravity
will bend the tides and illuminate
the colour of night.
it's like hide and seek
where she sneaks a peek at her influence
before hiding behind the earth,
leaving players to find the sky.
i will be no wavering tide,
but let me be your earth
so that you have some place to orbit.
:iconsto67:sto67 4 1
the shape of us
we are a coin
of immeasurable denomination,
one which no mint can hope
to reproduce.
paired together, we are faces
that never see eye to eye.
we are pen and paper,
just a piece of literature
for all to read.
for the reader, we are a profundity
on a ream of toilet paper;
another scratching on the bathroom stall.
we are half a glass
that stands alone on the dining table,
casting shadows that glitter
as the liquid swirls and spills over-
we are a container
whose contents refuse to be held.
we are a secret
that we like to hide
pressed against our chests.
gift wrapped by limbs and tied
by longing gazes.
we are our precious present
that tomorrow will never see.
:iconsto67:sto67 5 3
you, the one with doubts and forlorn eyes
watching the lights spiral across
the dusty floor,
hear me out:
like a scratchy vinyl,
put the needle on and play until
this self titled record stops-
please, stop fidgeting and sweating rivers
i only want a conversation
as equals;
i will listen to you once my music ends,
so follow my voice and jump into
where my words start and maybe
you might walk my path and find
new meaning to your being here.
read my lips and listen close,
i will say this once and once only
to you the ones with uncertain hearts,
unopened ears and thoughts unentertained,
to you, the one walking away from me
yet still wanting my attention,
i noticed you,
                 i know you
like i know that the sun will rise tomorrow,
like the tide will cede with the morning
and like how sometimes the rain will fall-
but only when you don't want it to.
i will say this only once;
for being here and fe
:iconsto67:sto67 5 8


R O A D R U N N E R by Angelstorm-82 R O A D R U N N E R :iconangelstorm-82:Angelstorm-82 2,020 261
even then(exhausted by shame)
even then
        (exhausted by shame)
i felt the pull
        (the undeniable grasp)
of my other self
following the rain through
narrow prison windows
to fill the ravine of my mind
with the color of your skin
whose freckles
lead my blood to my hands
        (lead your name to my lips)
                to write(say)
"if i am a criminal
         (as all who live are)
remove my reflection
stain my skin grey as time
do all within the reach of justice
         (lifeless words carved on stone)
to tear away my tongue
and murder my protestations
on the concrete floor
i still bleed red"
and behind the exhaustion of my eyes
my greener self
         (beyond the mysterious, infinite
:iconhsupernormal:hsupernormal 6 3
midnight bird, help me
bury these heavy years
in the careless loam of dawn
and help me coax redder fruit
from life's bittersweet soil
and later,
alone amidst our crimson harvest,
reveal to me the secret color of my heart
as i tear out my screaming mind
and smother it with your feathers
i was twenty-seven,
now i must be whole)
:iconhsupernormal:hsupernormal 1 1
unreasoned woe
I did not turn to watch the storm
instead I placed pennies on my eyes
and heard flowers fight against the wind.
In regret I blacken, scorched like meat
and milk spewed on the street for midday sun.
I turn from blessed rings to float in
and out of almost forgotten sleep.
Its relief, like tulip tips, green
and piercing the snow, like sneakers
hanging from power lines, like my father
's voice, low.
:iconimperfect:imperfect 8 10
Stranger Still
No phone number
Instead,  a ring of water (still)
drying on the coffee table
(an unclosed bracket left you
feeling uneasy
so did foreign language,
not a name attached to a face,
but of three-and-twenty odd dollars
over two cups of coffee
:iconthegreatspyexperim:TheGreatSpyExperim 5 5
Ghost Armor
Coming back soon... to be published within the HOAX #22 issue of antiTHESIS, a Melbourne University publication. x
:iconamberlouie:Amberlouie 133 63
Mature content
Angels with Dirty Faces :iconfyoot:fyoot 115 33
her name is M.
she wears a yellow trench
and walks on crouton leaves
humming conversations past
like marionettes acting from
life experience.
she always puts her left foot
first, twice,
a conduit for heart palpitations
and buried syllables
along a gardenhem of hot leather earth.
she grasshops slow across the esoteric
Bible passages, familiar
leagues of depth shaped by
meadows and birdline capillaries.
M hides pebbles under her tongue
to disguise her vestigial history,
a resin of inquisition
to avoid selftalk.
she is a person with nightsilk physique
and qualitative gesture to evoke
the tannins of dirt from under her nails;
it smells of cacaoberry oil, her father's
smoke, cologne and reticence.
he taught M to spell the day in
molecular structures-
the intimacy of atomflares, so
that when her bare toes
sunk into a place outside her soma tier
she could always have a home
a place to go from
:iconjarfold:jarfold 8 7
Daily Literature Deviations for July 13th 2011
Daily Lit Deviations for July 13th, 2011
We are proud to feature today's Daily Literature Deviations!
You can show your support by :+favlove:ing this News Article.
Please comment and :+fav: the features and congratulate the artists!
:pointr: For all of the featured artists: If you receive a DD for one
of your pieces featured by DLD please note damina.
We will include you and your piece in a special recognition news article. :pointl:
Featured by apple-dark
        Eternal Return by pseudometry
        This could also have been
titled, "How To Paint a Scene."  Filled
with the familar flushes of love and
memory and a well-known season.  It is
a welcome reminder, at least for this reader.
Featured by spoems
:icondailylitdeviations:DailyLitDeviations 55 5
Are You In? (no, this isn't a car commercial)
Have you taken the time to check out The Favorites Project during our special promotional month of April? Everyone who watches us this month will be part of a journal feature on our front page. So if you haven't taken a look yet, time is quickly running out! Get on over to The Favorites Project and check us out. If you like what you see, then let us know by devwatching the account!
It's important to know that The Favorites Project is not a club, so no membership is required to participate. Devwatching us allows the authors we feature to get the attention they deserve when we feature their poem. There is a no ulterior motive.
About Us
The Favorites Project (FP) is an independent program run by dA members and affiliated with Poetry Please. We are dedicated to featuring poems that represent a quality of work to which other poets can aspire. All staff members ar
:iconthefavoritesproject:TheFavoritesProject 5 2
White Dresses
I once sat in puddles on swings,
uncaring of dirty marks left: blue
trousers, black; pink skirts, purple;
white dresses -- no, I didn't wear
         I wanted to.
                           I clambered
over red-brick walls, rot-green
fences and cold-cut metal poles.
It was then I saw her: brunette locks
tamed by brush and comb and ribbon,
plaited to her waist and back.
                                           "Pretty little loopy!"
I yelled to mother, leant against the gate, lips
parted in discontent as I
fell from my perch, overcome by admiration:
whispy strands swayed,   &
:iconcrazynloveless:crazynloveless 15 41
No-Bullshit Poetry Criticism
If you want blunt, honest, and pertinent criticism on your poetry this project is for you. However, think carefully before you apply.
PoeticWar and imperfect are offering you the chance to receive No-Bullshit Criticism on your poetry for a 12 hour period.
From Midnight GMT Friday 10th November to Midday GMT Saturday 11th November you are invited to email one poem for criticism to PoeticWar and imperfect will critique the poems received during the following 12 hours and post a news article on Sunday 12th November showing only the poems and the criticism.
The criticism will be no-holds-barred blunt, unsoftened critique. It is being offered on the understanding that the poet is aware of this, and is expecting it, and we will not enter into debate about our critique. It will be up to you, the poet, to take from the criticism what you need. Although we do hope the news article will prompt discussion and debate between poets.
In Summary
:iconimperfect:imperfect 42 118



  • Listening to: Imagine Dragons - Demons
  • Playing: tales of xillia 2
  • Drinking: whisky
I've managed to write only 3 poems in the past year.
Inspiration is drying up a bit. Maybe I need to go out and live something.
As life passes by it gets harder and harder to see from new perspectives unless you are willing to change yourself. That's what I believe.


Stephen So
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
Main subject matter I write about is human relations, and how people deal with one another. Observations on people and behaviour.

No shame, no ego, I say what I mean and mean what I say.


sto67 has started a donation pool!
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whoring myself out for some points.

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PoetsHand Featured By Owner Sep 23, 2013
Happy birthday!
(2 Replies)
Sammur-amat Featured By Owner Nov 25, 2012   General Artist
Hello there, lovely person! :wave:

You've just been featured in my journal: [link] :heart:

It would mean the world to me if you could favorite the article and maybe even find some pieces worth faving as well? :eager:

Thank you so very much for your time! :la:
archelyxs Featured By Owner Sep 23, 2012
Happy birthday!!
IyraEMM Featured By Owner Sep 23, 2012
happy birthday, you nice person you.
PoetsHand Featured By Owner Sep 23, 2012
Happy birthday! :cake:
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