The A,B,C's of Literature: P

22 min read

Deviation Actions

33 Favourites

The A,B,C's of Literature
This week: P

Welcome to another installment of the A,B,C's of Literature, a weekly article which brings you suggested themes and deviants who begin with a letter of the alphabet.

This week, we will be focusing on the letter P and the themes this week are: Possession, Poetry, Power, Protect/Protection, Passion


PossessionAlex and I walked along through the Turkish bazaar, stopping at various booths set up by people peddling their wares. It was the first trip we'd taken together and I was searching for the perfect memento to take home with me. The beads and bangles that most of them had were nice, at least as souvenirs for our friends back home, but they just weren't what I was looking for. Then I saw it sitting on a shelf behind a man peddling fresh dead fish. I stopped, confusing Alex, but unable to tear my eyes away from the little doll.
It was plain with burgundy buttons for eyes and a stitched on mouth, but it seemed to be smiling as the weird little buttons followed me. The merchant followed my line of sight and wide smile spread across his face, revealing quite a few missing teeth. The man himself was a little unsettling, but the doll was too cute. I reached out and the merchant placed the doll into my hands eagerly.
"Don't tell me that this child's toy has caught your eyes, Camryn," Alex admonis
PossessionAll the fears
All the pain in the world
I can't hold it tight enough
I can't hold you close enough
Your beautiful darkness
just a twist of fate
led me down the wrong path
and right into you
Heavenly bitterness and justified pain
All the world's cruelty upon my shoulders
and you're still so beautiful
Fate, steer me in a different direction
Heart, don't mend
Arms, learn to let go
Feet, don't follow.
My Near-possessionIt happened on the night of November 8th, my cousin Jessica and I were filming our 3rd lockdown.
While we sat in the dark basement, she had this alarm clock which changes color ONLY when you press the button on top and she covered it with a pillow to block the light.
Pretty soon, it began changing color by itself.
1)The pillow was too light to press the button
2)There's NO setting to make it do that.
We stared at it for several minutes before I realized her camcorder was on the tripod, so we did get it on film.
After filming the basement more, Jess heard a cackling voice and began feeling like something bad was gonna happen, which didn't scare me much. However, I did wonder why not much else was happening and hoped something more would happen.
But what's really freaky is what happened afterwards:
While we filmed upstairs in my bedroom, I was holding the camera filming the room with Jess behind me. Soon, I began feeling tense with my arms trembling enough to where I gripped the camera.


Poetry For WomenPoetry is for women
Or at least that's what I've been told
By many men.
Poetry is for girls
Or at least that's how it's sold
To us, when we are children.
Poetry is soft
And often elegant
In a word it is not -
Fine for a time as nursery rhymes -
Read in cribs to teething screaming things;
Who innocence makes androgynous.
Poetry is not read -
In red red racecar beds.
Instead we're taught to think
That poetry is pink.
Poetry is pretty proper and fancy;
When personified
It will almost surely be thought of
As a lady.
Poetry is what may be
And maybe
The poetry I have written
For and about women -
Will be read by men who understand it.
If not
I will still write poetry
For women.
A Beginner's Guide to Poetry     In my wanderings around dA, I've realized that many deviantArt poets don't know what dA means by the different classifications of poetry. Contrary to popular belief, not all rhyming poetry belongs in the category of "Traditional Fixed Forms." Much of the rhyming poetry I have seen on dA would actually fall under the category of Free Verse. Which is why I am writing this little essay. My intent is to define and explain, with examples, some of the types of poetry that actually do fall into the category of Traditional Fixed Forms. (Some, not all. To try and explain all the forms would take a lifetime.) I will also touch upon some Eastern style poetry, and a few techniques that will make your Free Verse poetry better. (Though I am, by no means, an expert.) For more information on any of these techniques, please utilize your favorite search engine. Google (Bing, Jeeves, or Whatever) is your friend.
     This essay is a cursory lo
. misconception .Sweet bitterness lies
Upon withering roses
Of psychotic love
For he cannot see
What truly lies beneath their
False admiration
Superficial truths
Create his utopia
From forged flattery
In Reality
It is I who is the fool
Dreaming we can be.


The Power of WordsThey can hurt,
And they can heal
Words can make you feel things,
You never thought you'd feel
And if you're not too careful,
It's your soul they will steal
Words are the bridge,
Between the future and the past,
Because words are the only thing,
That really, truly, last
When you are lonely!
They are there to read
When you have nothing!
They fill that space inside you,
That has become so empty
They never go away,
Not once they're heard...
That's the power of words
They can remind,
They cause regret
Words are the most powerful weapons,
That have been discovered yet
They make you strong,
Whenever you feel weak
Words can be wise,
And they can be deep
They are your companions,
On nights when you can't sleep
When you are lonely!
They are there to read
When you have nothing!
They fill that space inside you,
That has become so empty
They never go away,
Not once they're heard...
That's the power of words
Words can make you sigh!
Words can make you cry!
And I can't tell you,
How many times it's h
:thumb195602783: The Simple Power of SnowThe world is white and bright.  I look at the snow-covered world with fresh eyes--I've never seen anything so shimmering before!  The wind gently stirs my hair as it does to the hanging boughs of the trees, blowing snow into my hair and out of the branches.  The beautiful calls of children echo off the brick walls in the neighborhood as white balls of deformed ice sail over young heads and into other young heads.
I bend down and pick up a handful, cradling it in my bare fingers like a baby bird with a broken wing.  Of course it's cold, why didn't I expect that?  I can feel it making my fingers colder while I make it slightly warmer, water dripping through the cracks in my fingers and falling to drip on the ground below and freeze again.  Before I can't feel my fingers for numbness, I drop the snow and pat it back into the hole that I made.
The flowers that bloomed yesterday are now asleep in a blanket of snow as I walk the sid


ProtectCatching it
As it leaves
her delicate face
- like a tear
in my heart
Holding her
I wish-
though knowing
she's elsewhere;
I Will Carry YouAre you thirsty?
Alone in the desert sun
Crossing these oceans of sand
So far from home, from your Love
Are these bones weighing you down?
Skeletons dragging your head under the sea
Do you realize you can't hold them and breathe?
In the middle of the ocean so cold
I'm here little lamb
Little lamb I've come
I left my home, I left the safety
Only for you
I'm here my Love
My beautiful bride
I'm here for you
Only for you
Are you dying?
Broken in this vast heap
While they pile their garbage on you?
The tons of waste crushing your bones?
Cast your cares on me
For you I can be strong
I can carry you home
My sweet bride
I will take your hurt
For you I will die
Only for you
Let your slit wrists bleed
Let them all see
This is the tortured soul
Behind a mirror mask of who they want you to be
How far will you go?
Hold onto me
How far from home will you go?
Where are you now?
I'm coming for you
While you cry in the midst of wolves
No greater love than this
Call me and I will be here for you
They wi
Protect against NightmaresReverse the nightmare..
Make it the sweetest dream..
I'll be watching, protecting and healing from here..
I'll be fighting and staying awake..
Until you're finally sleeping..
You are safe with me..
A little spell..
I wrote.. Don't know if it will work!..
But I'll believe in it!
A spell to prevent a nightmare..
Or turn a nightmare into a dream..
You don't need to be near this person!
Just visualize that one person and him or her only!
And read it up loud..
Believe that an protection aura surrounds the person..
And he or she will be safe! for that night.. Or for few hours..
Depense on how strong the nightmare!
And how much energy your giving the spell!


PassionYou look me over
And you turn away
You lead my heart
Into silent decay
'Cause you want something beautiful
Want something beautiful
You want something beatiful
So you look away
Well, this I call passion
This I call real
Are you ready to see me?
Are you ready to feel?
But you don't see anything
You don't see anything
No, you don't see anything
'Cause you don't see me
You speak such wise words
But won't believe what I say
Think you've got to hold out
For some brighter day
'Cause you want something real
Want something real
You want something real
But you turn away
And, this I call passion
This I call real
Are you ready to hear me?
Are you ready to feel?
But you don't hear anything
You don't hear anything
No, you don't hear anything
'Cause you don't hear me
I carry this torch
And its burning my hands
Can you see the scars now?
Do you understand?
You think I'm not good enough
Think I'm not good enough
Well, am I not good enough
To carry these scars?
This I call passion
This I call real
What RemainsA call from instrument cerebral, sullenly emitting
Echoes, ghosts of fate's desire past
Solemn omen of an honest poise
A starkly piercing acumen
Persists amidst the binding rue
Its shrill, iconoclastic will
Begetting doggedness, abides
The civil heretic
Requesting the decree
Upon which man ascribes his guile
To fear which shelved, expands
Until no vacant nerve remains

:star: My Favourite Piece
A piece selected from the above featured
Maccabre under the glitter by Iniquitire

:spotlight-left: Spotlight Deviants :spotlight-right:

Kay has been suggested by various deviants as a writer to feature, and rightly so.
Her writing provokes passion and a whole range of sensualised, beautiful and intricate emotions from her readers.
Not only is she a wonderful photographer, but she is an apt and fantastic writer.

I sat in the back yard on my 13th birthday and stared off in to the distance. For some reason, my mother got me a clown even though I had received my first period three days before; how childish, I thought, as I tried to hold my lemonade in the same manner somebody from New York would hold their iced tea. I wanted to feel sophisticated, though I still broke the pinata with everybody else, scrambling to pick up the candy which fell from the boughs of the apple tree, wishing I had tape on my hands so I would get the most with the least effort. A metaphor for life.
When I hit thirty, my lower back would ache from the pressure of work and I would resort to sipping wine at various small town tasting sessions, even though I hated the taste. I would mingle, hob-knob, whatever it took to get that last decisive drop from the glass on to my tongue. My cats would wait for me at home, curled up around the radiator with fuzzy stomachs waiting to be rubbed (or fed). No children, no com
DolenteFull Title: Tentatively Scripted Love Song About The Possibility of Us In C# :
I feel you should know that I would take you to Aokigahara with me, to drown in the sea of trees. We would step delicately over the personal belongings left behind by other people so willing to end their lives. We could curl up in a crystalline cavern and whisper bocca chiusa until the sweet smell of pine aroused every sense within our slowly dying bodies. (Because everybody is dying, just sometimes we don't feel it.) We'll mingle together sensually, touched by the riveting dusk at the base of Mount Fuji, the center of the world, la petite mort.
I pen you verses, sonnets, present to you that which is me through my words strummed doloroso to their crescendo, but I hide the texts on scraps of notebook paper and I never deliver. You'll never see, my muse, those words splashed upon reels of tape stretched from tree to tree (my heart to yours). In a silent forest

Mature Content

Graceful is an Adjectivei.
Somewhere between the ravine and the sprawl of convenience stores I left footprints, halting and clumsy, on beaten pathways between bikers and dogs. I traversed slowly between pine trees and brush to the waters edge to catch frogs and skip stones, and dream.
I did not move with grace or any sense of proportion; I stumbled, tripped, and beat my way through the low lying undercoat of nettles and rose bushes to look into the swirling depths of  the creek and wish, dream, hope for my prince. I am a princess and I need somebody with a strong shoulder and good wits to protect me, to make me graceful by proxy. I conjure images of our beautiful children who would be born with an innate sense of harmony, who could rond de jambe l'air and rond de jambe à terre from birth, their sissonne ouverte grande being their conception.
I have never been considered graceful; I have always been more worthy of the term inept, or awkward. I never spread my


:iconpaperdart: PaperDart
Driving LessonsDonna opened the closet and repacked the outfits she'd left on the bed. Conventional first date wisdom could go victimise someone else. She was comfortable in slacks and flat shoes: that was what she would wear. She didn't need to impress James; she'd known him for years and he'd been asking her out for nearly as long. Despite her conviction, it took Donna a good ten minutes to choose a clip and scoop back her micro braids. When she was satisfied she turned to check her reflection. She liked the look of the maroon blouse against her skin. Her slacks and shoes were unremarkable. Hair and make-up were fine—not brilliant, but fine. The doorbell buzzed. Fine would have to do. She kicked the closet shut and headed for the lift.
"Evening, Donna." James opened the passenger door of his car with a flourish.
She was relieved that he hadn't dressed up either. "Evening, James." She stepped into the car.
James closed the door and walked around to the driver's side. "I must confess to some ner
2010 May Haikuthon         |-:-|
hole in the sky:
at the pondside:
forgotten jewels
darkly gleaming
night sky
yellow roses and
soft white feathers
for a coward
gnarled fingers
reach for a drink
deep red rose
from the thorns
a drop of blood
thrush in the window
fiercely attacks
thrush on the windowsill
bubbles of joy
rise like
children's laughter:
a prayer journal
of jokes for God.
children, gra
Just Another Love StoryMilly was reading Water Babies. More accurately, she was trying to read it, while simultaneously ignoring her sister's obnoxiously loud rap CD and not stressing about her Psych test. Even more accurately, she was trying not to think about Jasper. It wasn't the best choice of novel for that.
She laid the flimsy paperback on her desk and looked at the bookshelf. She could give up on her set work and pick an old favourite. It wasn't as if she were failing Lit. Reluctantly, she picked the book up again. She didn't need anything more to feel guilty about. She was about to start reading when she realised that there was something caught in the back cover.
She slipped her fingers behind the pages and pulled out a sheet of notepaper. Something was written at the top in strong, loopy handwriting. She smiled bitterly. She'd thought it was Jasper's handwriting for  moment. There was no escaping him. She absent-mindedly began reading.
I'm sorry. Forgive me, Milly?
She droppe
ChaosOne of the things which most struck me about James Gleick's book Chaos was its age. In part, writing conventions have changed over the two decades since it was written. More significantly, though, I wondered why I knew so little about the exciting new science he discusses. Why hadn't I been taught about fractal dimensions, universality and chaotic bifurcations? They were so interesting to read about, and so very useful – essential, in fact – to science.
In due course, I realised that it was just as well my high school teachers hadn't tried to introduce me to chaos theory. I was still trying to figure out how a battery worked: the mathematical properties of the electrical oscillations it might produce were (and still are) years of study beyond me. This exciting new science is not a science that can be used by the everyday man or woman on the street.
What Gleick achieves in Chaos is to make it a science that I could almost understand and definitely appreciate. He


:star: Other Writers to Check Out! :star:
pepineros Pinkcatnip Poke-Me-If-You-Dare
DiabloArt316 PandaCat-Productions Penfury
PlasticusForkus somestrangebirds projectilewordvomit

Thank you to all the deviant suggestions and theme suggestions from pullingcandy rockgem Memnalar namenotrequired Created-By-Caz AlecWolfe thorns TheseKrimzonFlames williamfdevault Magic-fan mode-de-vie
Remember you can suggest a theme or deviant to me via note, or if you have someone for the next feature then please let me know

Previous Articles

A | B | C | D | E | F | G | H | I | J | K | L | M | <a  href="…">N | O

Next Week

Send Suggestions for Themes and Deviants!

Thank You
© 2011 - 2021 the-photographicpoet
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
PinkyMcCoversong's avatar
Thanks for including me in this piece! <3
PaperDart's avatar
Thanks incredibly for including me! I'm very happy. :D
LadyofGaerdon's avatar
I'm so honored to be included in this series. Thank you so much! :tighthug:
piratespiritzero's avatar
Thank you again for featuring my poem! :heart:
pullingcandy's avatar
AWE look you're s o o o o kind! <3
I love this series :)
the-photographicpoet's avatar
pullingcandy's avatar
How could I not =)
the-photographicpoet's avatar
:heart: I couldn't not feature you hun. I hope now you realise just how great of a writer you really are :love:
AlecWolfe's avatar
Lovely features.
Memnalar's avatar
Couldn't find anything about piss, eh? :D
the-photographicpoet's avatar
Memnalar's avatar
Got it. From now on, I will make only immature suggestions. :)
the-photographicpoet's avatar
:giggle: What do you suggest for Q? :P
Nah I was gonna do "piss" but some of the stuff I was like, :| haha
pullingcandy's avatar
Is there REALLY any other kind?
DefinitiveContent's avatar
I am tremendously flattered to have a piece featured.

perhaps with next week's letter being Q, you could have poems inspired by quotes ; I have written a few myself so I know it must be something others do as well.
Iniquitire's avatar
thank you so much! :heart: I [as well as my collab partner, i'm sure (:] appreciate the feature greatly :heart:
airbender01's avatar
That's awesome, my possession story is there.
CalixLove's avatar
Wow, I got featured on a piece written out of whim! That's pretty neat. :lol: Thank you so much!
TheseKrimzonFlames's avatar
I love that you feature people I suggest. I srsly get warm fuzzies from it :B :iconwarmfuzzyattackplz:

And wow, I'm up there. :omg:
Magic-fan's avatar
:clap: Outstanding selections!
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In