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Heart: Oil on Canvas

H

Heart: Oil on Canvas

There was a soft hum rumbling through the room. People lingered around the walls, hands in pockets or behind their backs; glazing up at the paintings with the same expression. Of subtle interest mingled with boredom and obligation; pausing for the recommended three minutes at each of the gilded frames before slowly moving onto the next. Most of the visitors were silent, their quite whispered of muffled by a group of students clustered at the end of the gallery, chattering regardless of the tour guide.  All dressed in same blue and grey uniform, they looked bored as one of the guides pointed out the intimate meaning behind each of the artists

They Were Here

T

They Were Here

It had rained again last night - it clung to the grass like little glass ornaments that glistened in the grey sunlight. Daffodils were pushing their way up through the damp soil and primroses were scattered around the footpath. A wrought iron fence, flecked with the remains of peeling paint, opened out onto the headstone covered hillside. They were in there – I though as I stepped inside – somewhere. There was no symmetry here; years and families intermingled without the order of the ones back home. Long stringy grass was growing in unkempt clumps in between the graves and brown leaves were scattered across the paths. A silence h

Unwritten

U

Unwritten

The rest of the house was already contained in boxes, now sacked haphazardly around the room. But the bookshelf still stood tall. The shelf occupied an entire wall of the now empty living room; filling the gap between wall and floor with a dozen shelves of bent spines, tattered paperbacks, dog eared corners, and dusty pages. I had purposely saved them for last, because I knew that when they were gone, there would be no doubt that I was going too. I packed my favourites first. An olive green novel, decorated in gold embossing, that I had discovered at the back of a discount rack. A novel of only pages – spine and both covers having fall

She Did

S

She Did

She lay with her feet hanging over the bedstead, hair falling across her face and obscuring the view of the ceiling she inspected: the cobwebs in the corners and the careless paintwork around the overhead light.  She ought to turn it on now – the shadows were creeping halfway up the walls and stars were beginning to glow outside the window, but still she lay there, in semi darkness, waiting for something to happen. It will happen soon, she thought. Any day now, something will happen. And then she would be ready. Someone would knock on her door; lure her out with pretty words and tempting prospects and show her the world beyond the wind

Untitled 2

U

Untitled 2

 'It's gonna be fine love,' 'Are you sure? I mean, I wouldn't hire me, and they all look really professional and I, just look -" 'You do look professional, Carly, and if they don't want you, their loss,' 'Sure?' 'Positive' James insisted, reaching across the gear stick to take her hand, 'Plenty of other shops looking for work at the moment, but don't worry about that. Besides, it looks like a nice enough place; and hey, you might get a nice discount?' From the safety of the car park on the opposite street, Carly inspected the small shop through the rear view mirror. Jewellery filled the windows; pendants of all shapes and sizes organise

Stranger

S

Stranger

She stood behind the stainless steel counter top- stained with coffee and caked on chocolate powder. The tables before her were empty, allowing her to fully indulge in the ache pounding in the back of her head and the queasy remains of the previous evening swirling about in the pit of her stomach. She wore a black apron, smeared with coffee grinds and tired in an awkward bow at the front. Long strands of hair escaped her pony tail, curling around her ears and getting in the way of her eyes. Most of the colour in her face was artificial, brushed on haphazardly in the morning rush to make herself presentable, but it couldn't quite cover the pur

Back Again

B

Back Again

The jonquils ought to be blooming by now- Samantha thought as she drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. And the silver birches, perhaps a few green buds to welcome in the promise of spring. And the roses- they would be fully grown in a couple of weeks- that was if Sam decided to stay that long. Even after all these years, nothing seemed to have changed. The square houses were hidden behind the peeling trunks of gum trees and high fences, painted in deep, dull greens, so as to camouflage the houses further. It was not worth it really- Sam had always thought, the vibrant cars parked beside the letter boxes were enough of a giveaway that t

Five of Cups

F

Five of Cups

The fence had been overly decorated by youthful hands; long strips of coloured paper twisted through the metal link fence and round balloons billowed in the promise of rain that no one else seemed to have noticed. There were people everywhere, and it would appear that here, screaming was the most acceptable form of communication. Children ran in gaggles through the legs of disregarding adults, giggling and squealing incessantly, unable to stop themselves from gorging on fairy floss and boiled lollies, and parents turning a blind eye just because they could. Tony frowned. He should have mentioned it to the lawyers: every second weekend when

Five of Heart (WIP1)

F

Five of Heart (WIP1)

The fence had been overly decorated by youthful hands; long strips of coloured paper twisted through the metal link fence and round balloons billowed in the promise of rain that no one else seemed to have noticed. There were people everywhere, and it would appear that here screaming was the most acceptable form of communication. Children ran in gaggles through the legs of disregarding adults, giggling and squealing incessantly, unable to stop themselves from gorging on fairy floss and boiled lollies, and parents turning a blind eye because they could. Tony frowned. He should have mentioned it to the lawyers: every second weekend when the sc

Wayne

W

Wayne

She stood behind the stainless steel counter top- ironically stained with coffee and caked on chocolate powder. The tables before her were empty, allowing her to fully indulge in the agony of the ache pounding in the back of her head and the queasy remains of the previous evenings adventures swirling about in her empty stomach. Most of the colour in her face was artificial- brushed on in the mornings rush and patched up with concealer to make herself presentable, but couldn't quite cover the purple shadows that lingered beneath her red-tinged eyes. "Vanessa-" a voice from the back room called, the head of a middle aged woman poked thought th
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Heart: Oil on Canvas

H

Heart: Oil on Canvas

There was a soft hum rumbling through the room. People lingered around the walls, hands in pockets or behind their backs; glazing up at the paintings with the same expression. Of subtle interest mingled with boredom and obligation; pausing for the recommended three minutes at each of the gilded frames before slowly moving onto the next. Most of the visitors were silent, their quite whispered of muffled by a group of students clustered at the end of the gallery, chattering regardless of the tour guide.  All dressed in same blue and grey uniform, they looked bored as one of the guides pointed out the intimate meaning behind each of the artists

They Were Here

T

They Were Here

It had rained again last night - it clung to the grass like little glass ornaments that glistened in the grey sunlight. Daffodils were pushing their way up through the damp soil and primroses were scattered around the footpath. A wrought iron fence, flecked with the remains of peeling paint, opened out onto the headstone covered hillside. They were in there – I though as I stepped inside – somewhere. There was no symmetry here; years and families intermingled without the order of the ones back home. Long stringy grass was growing in unkempt clumps in between the graves and brown leaves were scattered across the paths. A silence h

Unwritten

U

Unwritten

The rest of the house was already contained in boxes, now sacked haphazardly around the room. But the bookshelf still stood tall. The shelf occupied an entire wall of the now empty living room; filling the gap between wall and floor with a dozen shelves of bent spines, tattered paperbacks, dog eared corners, and dusty pages. I had purposely saved them for last, because I knew that when they were gone, there would be no doubt that I was going too. I packed my favourites first. An olive green novel, decorated in gold embossing, that I had discovered at the back of a discount rack. A novel of only pages – spine and both covers having fall

She Did

S

She Did

She lay with her feet hanging over the bedstead, hair falling across her face and obscuring the view of the ceiling she inspected: the cobwebs in the corners and the careless paintwork around the overhead light.  She ought to turn it on now – the shadows were creeping halfway up the walls and stars were beginning to glow outside the window, but still she lay there, in semi darkness, waiting for something to happen. It will happen soon, she thought. Any day now, something will happen. And then she would be ready. Someone would knock on her door; lure her out with pretty words and tempting prospects and show her the world beyond the wind

Untitled 2

U

Untitled 2

 'It's gonna be fine love,' 'Are you sure? I mean, I wouldn't hire me, and they all look really professional and I, just look -" 'You do look professional, Carly, and if they don't want you, their loss,' 'Sure?' 'Positive' James insisted, reaching across the gear stick to take her hand, 'Plenty of other shops looking for work at the moment, but don't worry about that. Besides, it looks like a nice enough place; and hey, you might get a nice discount?' From the safety of the car park on the opposite street, Carly inspected the small shop through the rear view mirror. Jewellery filled the windows; pendants of all shapes and sizes organise

Stranger

S

Stranger

She stood behind the stainless steel counter top- stained with coffee and caked on chocolate powder. The tables before her were empty, allowing her to fully indulge in the ache pounding in the back of her head and the queasy remains of the previous evening swirling about in the pit of her stomach. She wore a black apron, smeared with coffee grinds and tired in an awkward bow at the front. Long strands of hair escaped her pony tail, curling around her ears and getting in the way of her eyes. Most of the colour in her face was artificial, brushed on haphazardly in the morning rush to make herself presentable, but it couldn't quite cover the pur

Back Again

B

Back Again

The jonquils ought to be blooming by now- Samantha thought as she drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. And the silver birches, perhaps a few green buds to welcome in the promise of spring. And the roses- they would be fully grown in a couple of weeks- that was if Sam decided to stay that long. Even after all these years, nothing seemed to have changed. The square houses were hidden behind the peeling trunks of gum trees and high fences, painted in deep, dull greens, so as to camouflage the houses further. It was not worth it really- Sam had always thought, the vibrant cars parked beside the letter boxes were enough of a giveaway that t

Five of Cups

F

Five of Cups

The fence had been overly decorated by youthful hands; long strips of coloured paper twisted through the metal link fence and round balloons billowed in the promise of rain that no one else seemed to have noticed. There were people everywhere, and it would appear that here, screaming was the most acceptable form of communication. Children ran in gaggles through the legs of disregarding adults, giggling and squealing incessantly, unable to stop themselves from gorging on fairy floss and boiled lollies, and parents turning a blind eye just because they could. Tony frowned. He should have mentioned it to the lawyers: every second weekend when

Five of Heart (WIP1)

F

Five of Heart (WIP1)

The fence had been overly decorated by youthful hands; long strips of coloured paper twisted through the metal link fence and round balloons billowed in the promise of rain that no one else seemed to have noticed. There were people everywhere, and it would appear that here screaming was the most acceptable form of communication. Children ran in gaggles through the legs of disregarding adults, giggling and squealing incessantly, unable to stop themselves from gorging on fairy floss and boiled lollies, and parents turning a blind eye because they could. Tony frowned. He should have mentioned it to the lawyers: every second weekend when the sc

Wayne

W

Wayne

She stood behind the stainless steel counter top- ironically stained with coffee and caked on chocolate powder. The tables before her were empty, allowing her to fully indulge in the agony of the ache pounding in the back of her head and the queasy remains of the previous evenings adventures swirling about in her empty stomach. Most of the colour in her face was artificial- brushed on in the mornings rush and patched up with concealer to make herself presentable, but couldn't quite cover the purple shadows that lingered beneath her red-tinged eyes. "Vanessa-" a voice from the back room called, the head of a middle aged woman poked thought th

lion boy

l

lion boy

i knew a boy with eyes of gold & fire in his footsteps. he would roar to the stars, declaring himself as fearless as a king & as regal as a lion. "ad lucem," he would announce every night when leo would coax the virgin from her radiant castle. five times around the sun & loyal fangs bared to shield his kingdom, my lion boy dances with flames.

Embryo

E

Embryo

I choked back the crumpled dreams clogged in my throat like paper wads of useless poetry while the ocean continued to eat at me, one amethyst toe at a time; I sank like the anchor inked on my back, and loved of my bones a heavier guilt to sink and sink, beneath sorrow and joy, and the shoreline graves. What’s meant for salt is meant for tears but I was never a creature meant for healing, wailing through crooked pipes rusted and creaking from the summer heat and a silence so well kept that the dead would stare at me, owl eyed— and tongue tied. (You’d always said that drowning me was poetry in itself)

A Summer Afternoon in 2013.

A

A Summer Afternoon in 2013.

'… from 1 upwards. Cuisinaire rods are distributed, in the following...' “What are you reading?” I looked up at my intruder. My younger sister was standing at my bedroom door, leaning against the door frame with a cheeky look on her face. I fixed my eyes back on the top of page 81, adjusting my place on my lovely, comfy bed. “It's a book about maths pedagogy.” She pulled a face that resembled a curious mixture of confusion, but with an undertone of amusement. “Peda-what?” I tried to suppress my annoyance. “Pedagogy. It means teaching technique.” Her expression didn't change much, so
24Comments

Mushroom Omelette

M

Mushroom Omelette

The night was cold, I was on my way home. Hungry, my intestines screamed, it was tearing up my internal frame. My stomach growled. I needed eggs. I walked to Sammy's grocery store, never liked that guy, Sammy. He was sociable, but I didn't see him that way, I didn't even look at him. I never did. The store was small, I wouldn't care that much now that I'm starving, but it was oddly small. Looked like a front, little cathouse in the back? Don't think so. I grabbed a dozen of white eggs, and a canned mushroom. Sammy was over by his fortress, bats, monitors, cameras. The guy had a phobia, he feared those amateur hoodlums. I'd gut them slo

The Scars of Mother Earth

T

The Scars of Mother Earth

Under the gloomy glow of purple and black, I walk these littered streets Treading over crumpled bags of emptiness and bottles of broken dreams Gloomy and depressing is all that I see The bare branches of these dying trees and fallen leaves Briefly I step under a light But it doesn't comfort me at all this lonely night For the real light is gone and long rested "But where is its brother?" I questioned Out from the light I step back into the dark Footsteps matching the beat of my heart The world I once saw behind child eyes Has now gone where forever lies Her beauty, stripped from her roots by these very hands Destroying at our own

The End.

T

The End.

The car ride became tedious after a half hour. To ease my throbbing headache I closed my eyes and steadied my every breath, slowing the pulse rate considerably. After a few more minutes of this, the headache subsided, and my mind began to wander with odd ideas… Perhaps, after being alone for so long, there'll be someone waiting on the other side for me, holding a lantern to light a path through the impenetrable darkness. Their hand held out through mists of the indefinite as they're pointing which way to go. Someone to catch me as I fall through a looking glass of emotions. Maybe I'll go to a place, hidden from the rest of mankind. A

Got Hit By A Bus

G

Got Hit By A Bus

There once was a boy that sat on some steps Everyday he'd sit on those steps No one knew why No one cared Well now one day he got hit by a car And suddenly everyone cared But he was ok So they got bored And time went on Well now one day he got hit by a truck And everyone thought he was going to die So everyone got happy Then he came back And he was ok And continued to sit on those steps everyday Then one day he got hit by a bus And everyone thought he would be alright So no one cared Then he died And things became boring again So they started looking for a new person to push off those steps

Potato Chips

P

Potato Chips

The other day I finally realized, as I was going to the pantry for a snack, that my mind tortures me; I stared at the plastic film as the light bounced off of it and played with the shine of the colors. The shades all communicating with each other, hints of apologies and gestures, tales of beration and derogatory statements. Red was the primary color. It was a dark, ground-like red. Hot, haughty, gawking at the other colors, flaunting its vibrant steadiness, all the while consuming the shallow shyness of black as it creeped around the edges, trying to make itself noticed, but only succeeding in making red even more vivacious. The yellow was r
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  • Sep 11
  • Australia
  • Deviant for 8 years
  • She / Her
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Super Llama: Llamas are awesome! (45)

Return from the abyss (AKA Europe)

Return from the abyss (AKA Europe)

So I think I ought to apologise (to anyone who has noticed) for my six month plus absence from the dA, but I can explain, I promise. Less than a month ago I returned home from the most life changing experience of my life: four month living and studying in the UK followed by a month and a half trekking across the continent. But this does not mean that I haven't been writing, so look out for some of my newer writing - now more worldly than ever. Although first I think I ought to read through the 10K of new deviations that are waiting for me in my inbox. xx

Devious Journal Entry

Devious Journal Entry

Sad, Glad and other Emotions

Sad, Glad and other Emotions

My head is not the place one would want to be right now- all this being thrown into conflicting directions is making me a little dizzy. I'm in the final weeks of my semester, and the university is insisting on far too much from us- honestly- we're arts student, we have reputations to uphold and all these deadlines are messing with the image that generations have been slacking off trying to create. So with too many essays looming in my future, you'd think that I might have to put off writing, no. Because my head doesn't work that way. Each time I sit down attempting to write about the narrative devices employed in post modern novels or method

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Ja-mesHobbyist Writer
Cheers for the fav! And welcome back! Glad to hear you've had a swell old time. :D
It's a pleasure (as always) it was lovely to return and have some wonderful writing waiting for me in my inbox. 
Ja-mesHobbyist Writer
Aww, you. :)
I never said it was your writing ;) just good writing in general 
Thanks for the favorite. :)
Sheila-Is-My-QueenHobbyist General Artist
thanks for the llama