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To My Future SelfTo my Future Self,To My Future Self by julietcaesar
Breathe. You must be thinking, seriously, my teen self is acting like an old fart of a teacher telling off overstressed kids, but seriously, breathe. Stop. Pause. Listen. It's your heart beating. It's telling you, I'm beating so damn hard, I might just kill you one day.
Okay, let's digest. There can only be two reasons for your heart to beat like that. One reason is because I wouldn't have changed- I would still be that overzealous, neurotic, depressed teenager with a penchant for word thieves, dream catchers and moment makers. The other reason would be just the opposite: it's beating with life, with purpose, with hope.
I hope you'll be that second person.
Because being that second person means being serenaded by Chopin in a boy's car, travelling down to Bondi Beach watching sculptures rear out of the sea and you're feeling like, maybe, love may finally find you at last. Being that second person means you just won't shut up talking to patrons
Heidelberg, 2011Heidelberg, your streets runHeidelberg, 2011 by julietcaesar
with the blood of philosophers -
roses and rubies cascade
where they once meditate upon
the river Neckar, the pink stones
of fallen castles to be spat upon
by the people. Heidelberg,
your history outweighs the secrets,
it catacombs through snow
like coffee grains wedged
between wrinkled stones.
The Altstadt is your legacy,
an anachronism; the Hauptstrasse
rambles through like a goatherd
beating a path for sheep; The Universitat
boasts arches and sandstones enduring
on history's pedestal - now lost
in the squall of market stalls peddling bratwurst
in the rain.
Heidelberg, from the Philosophenweg
I can see autumn's shadow collide
past and present, when summer leaves
brown in fainter sunshine, curl and whisk away
to dust the crimson rooftops, the pebbled paths
that once inspired scholarly thoughts.
Under my feet they promise of snow
sleeting from the peaks
of gingerbread mountains, white
and sugary, clumped
and rolled by human hands. I stumble,
and the earth c
Frankfurt am Main, 2011i.Frankfurt am Main, 2011 by julietcaesar
When I came, you were squirreling rain
into your cobblestone pockets, reborn
as Sydney City misery - or so I thought.
exiting the Hauptbahnhof, trams clanging
by, the Occupy tents wilting into the grassroots
of financial greed. The only stars present
surrounded the Euro statue, glittering
in defiance of the masses. Coin-sized
they'll shine as Christmas lights in urban sprawl,
while bitter autumn ruminates, drawing
leaf-like creases on the river foreshore.
A splinter of sun in morning cloud curls
around Starbucks, an American outpost
in German streets. I pricked my finger
on leaflets past their summer
use-by date; the blood welled
like a puddle. Raincoats shivered.
Museums rolled past like revolving doors;
mahogany Goethe Haus presses deep
in memory, melancholy,
as writers' houses oft proclaim. Pigeons peck
outside. Night draws and gluhwein beckons,
like smoke from a thatched roof.
A lone puppet leans, hugs a baby
as rain dwindles to penny-size droplets. We met
you'll suffer unto meI was a four-year-old fatherless pageant baby when Mother found the listing for Challenger. For weeks she complained about the California public school system. Said I wasn't fit for it, wasn't right for it. "We live in a shithole. Public school systems rely on money and the income in this area sucks. They're all hoodlums here. You'll get raped, mugged, killed, murdered and then what? All the I'm sorries in the world won't bring you back. I'm not letting that happen to you. You're getting a better foundation than I did at your age."you'll suffer unto me by rushingtide
Mother always wanted the best for me, didn't care about the cost. She scoured the Yellow Pages for private schools, called them up, visited them with me in tow, dressed in pink and bouncing brown curls. Harker was the better, more expensive school, the rival to Challenger. Uppity kids wearing blouses, sweaters and in-fashion light-up shoes roamed both places. We settled on Challenger in the end. Mother didn't like the whole "boarding school" atmosphere at Ha
Essay: Accidental PredatorAccidental PredatorEssay: Accidental Predator by Slayer-of-Blood
"Real vampires don't sparkle," is the uniting battle-cry of the anti-Twilight series movement. Long-time fans of the vampire fantasy genre all tend to agree that vampires are blood-sucking, night-stalking, sun-fearing, semi-immortal fiends of incalculable strength and power. The drop-dead-sexy definition isn't a foreign idea either. Yet when these defining items come together in the Twilight series by Stephenie Meyer, vampire lovers all over the world have risen up in protest. The mere mention of the series seems an affront to the vampire subject in question. After over a century's worth of exposure to Dracula-stylized vampires, the introduction of this new, different vampire has divided the literary culture. 1
In an attempt to pacify those masses that harbor distaste for Twilight and the subsequent series, here is presented a solution to the controversial issue at hand: the "vampires" in Meyer's Twilight are not vampire
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The Narrative OC MEMEI. Choose up to five (5) of your favorite original story characters that will embark in this role-play. If you don't have five (5) then leave them blank (or create a character on the spot!) Be sure to give a little description of them:The Narrative OC MEME by MeAsTheNarrator
II. One of your characters decides to make a grand entrance into a random tavern. How does that go? Pick either Character One or Character Four :
III. Jealous, Character Three tries to make a grand entrance as well but somehow fails why is that?
IV. A character is surrounded by many enemies and decides that the only thing they can do is fight! How does that go? Pick either Character Two or Character Five
V. Character Three is depressed and decides to get drunk.
VI. An event like no other takes place and Character One and Character Two get into a battle to the death. Who wins?
VII. Character Four or Character Five accidentally drink a love potion. Who do they fall in love wit
Haikai no RengaThe Tools of Poetry #1: Haikai no RengaHaikai no Renga by SOLARTS
Written by Dick Whyte, Phylis Johnson and Reginald Webber
Summary: This text details the mechanics and philosophy of the Japanese poetic form known as Haikai no Renga. A group of people comprised of both professional poets and so-called 'non-poets' (preferably) gather. One of them comprises a starting line, a dyad consisting of a paradox, or contradictory statement. One might be I am blue, but I am not blue, while another might be I am sad, and yet I am happy. In Western terms this might be considered a piece of philosophical nonsense, an absurdity. Each starting line reiterates 'I am being and yet I am not being'. This phrase is an impossibility surely? Classical Western philosophy often asserts this view. As Aristotle writes after Parmenides, That which is not could [not] in any way exist [or
Haiku Theory Part 1 -2009-A Lot of Words About A Little PoemHaiku Theory Part 1 -2009- by SOLARTS
An Introduction to Haiku Structures
A haiku poem cannot be defined according to the number of syllables and lines it contains (nor by the number of syllables in each line). Although I do not wish to go into the reasons why at this point (I will save that for a later discussion) the form of modern English haiku, as Haruo Shirane writes, is a short poem, usually written in one to three lines. (in Gilbert, 2009) At this point our definition sounds very vague. If the number of syllables and lines do not define a haiku poem, then what does? And if a haiku poem is simply a short one, two or three-line poem then what separates it from other forms of Western short-verse or, in the case of one-line haiku, a sentence?
Patricia Donegan writes, in agreement with the Western haiku community at large, that syllable counting... is not the important thing for haiku in English. Haiku is an experience, not an act of co
The NonVerbal ThesaurusThe NonVerbal Thesaurus by OokamiKasumi
Not spoken > Body Language.
Latin thesaurus, treasury, from Greek thesauros.
n. pl. thesauri (-sôri) or thesauruses
1. A book of synonyms, often including related and contrasting words and antonyms.
2. A book of selected words or concepts, such as a specialized vocabulary of a particular field.
The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition copyright ©2000 by Houghton Mifflin Company. Updated in 2009.
Dialogue is VISUAL
-- Not just a bunch of words.
Watch the average conversation between two people. 90% of that conversation isn't in what's Spoken, it's in what they are DOING while they are speaking. It's in their Body Language. Body-language cues in your story alert the reader by SHOWING them what is going on in a character's head without Telling t
|I don't know if I will have the time to write anymore letters|
Because I might be too busy trying to participate.
So if this does end up being the last letter,
I just want you to know that I was in a bad place before I started high school
And you helped me.
Even if you didn't know what I was talking about
Or know someone who's gone through it.
You made me not feel alone.
Because I know there are people who say all these things don't happen.
And there are people who forget what it's like to be sixteen when they turn seventeen.
And know these will all be stories someday
And our pictures will become old photographs
And we'll all become somebody's mom or dad.
But right now these moments are not stories.
This is happening.
I am here and I am looking at her
And she is so beautiful.
I can see it.
This one moment when you know you're not a sad story,
You are alive.
And you stand up and see the lights on buildings
And everything that makes you wonder,
When you were listening to that song
On that drive with the people you love most in this world.
And in this moment, I swear, we are infinite.
I have hated the words and I have loved them, and I hope I have made them right. The Book Thief, Markus Zusak|
Seven years is a long time to be here in deviantART. I basically grew up here surrounded by many wonderful people who have taught me important life lessons. And there's still so much to learn.
I'm a writer and will always be one, because I believe in the power of language and the imagination to transform people's lives, whether in words of poetry or a well-written story.
In the real world, I am a medical journalist but here I relish being a short story writer. I have dabbled in novels, poetry and flash fiction over the years though as I've pushed the boundaries of the writing craft.
I've been published in a flash fiction collection. And outside of dA, I've been published in print, online, radio and TV on news, features and even opinion.
But the most important thing for me is to strive for improvement and enjoy above all the inane madness that writing brings to my life.
When I can afford time, I lurk a lot around the Literature Forum, suggest Lit DDs, occasionally critique and join in the madness of prompts set at awesome groups like transliterations. I also run a List of Useful Writing Blogs. I am a strong supporter of the Literature Community here. I've wandered off looking for other places for writing, but I've always come back because the community is equal to none.
Thanks for dropping by!
If you have a DD suggestion, send one of them a note titled "DD Suggestion" with the link to the piece and if you like, provide a description on why it should be a DD!
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