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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
Convergencei.Convergence by julietcaesar
Butter-yellow mists converge, merge to margarine in the spinning spokes of skyline. Stormy inks dribble down the canvas, the stresses and bumps of acrylic experiments gone awry. In this sullied heaven, they see a limbo called Hell drawing together the equilibrium of the Netherworld. Krakatoa's last ashes prop up the snow egg, blighted by the treasure map scrawl of the letter 'X'. Its etching has sandy origins, from the moment the Pirate God lurched out of his treasure chest and rode on the whale to prosperity. Long confined by humankind's swashbuckling stereotypes, the Pirate God lashes out, slashing with his fibrous cutlass to open up Martian soil. Or perhaps, belonging today on a ravaged Earth, it is a sea of lava, drawn from the inner core of this planet. The Pirate God has overseen this without regret.
The Black Sea, however, looms. Dislocated from Earth's Divergence, it haunts the new Convergence with hull-like hollowness. The jawlines of whales precipitate neon luminescenc
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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Active and Passive VoiceActive and Passive Voice by onewordatatime
Active voice occurs when the subject or agent in the sentence performs the action, often towards an object. For example, let's look at the following sentence written in active voice:
Katie spilled the milk.
In this sentence, Katie is the subject, and she performs the action (spilling) on the direct object (the milk.) The most obvious way to spot active voice is through the use of active verbs, which are simply verbs that express actions. In most cases, the sentence will take on the simple form of the tense it's in, whether past, present, or future.
In passive voice, the object being acted upon is emphasized over the agent. A passive version of the previous sentence would look like this:
The milk was spilled by Katie.
In this sentence, our object (the milk) appears before the action (was spilled) and the agent (Katie.) You will also notice that this sentence is in the progressive fo
On Detailing CharactersOn Detailing Characters by jamberry-song
"Your need to tell me absolutely everything, as if every tiny detail were just so integral to the plot, was supremely annoying." You can always tell when an author has gone through many drafts, and when an author has gone through just a few. There are many details that work their way into writing that don't necessarily have to be there. Some of these unnecessary details may offer seasoning to the story---mood, tone, or serve to draw attention to something specific; just be careful, as too much seasoning can ruin the flavor of your soup. You don't want it too bland, but you don't want it too salty, either. This is what makes being a writer nicer than being a cook; you can add more detail or edit superfluous detail out without destroying the piece, whereas a soup might be ruined with too much fiddling. By trial and error, you can find a good balance and I encourage you to experiment this way. To play on one of Gandalf's quotes: "A good author is neither too detailed nor too sparse, but p
The Critic's Toolkit: LitThe Critic's Toolkit: Literature EditionThe Critic's Toolkit: Lit by mackwrites
Critique, the examination or analysis of a work of art (in our case, a written work of course), can be an enjoyable, educational experience for both the critic and the author. If that sounds like something a teacher would say to you about a subject that makes you alternately fall asleep or want to throw up, don't despair, because it can actually be a great experience. You just need some tools to help you.
The main component to many critiques of beginner's work tends to be technical. This can be as basic as misspellings and punctuation errors, which can be an easy thing for you to put in your critique in order to give it more substance, but the technical aspect can also take on a wider scope. Technical critique can examine sentence structure in terms of general readability and how clearly an idea is portrayed, to even the metaphoric and the way imagery was used.
A word about haiku - MS JamesA word about haiku - by Michael JamesA word about haiku - MS James by Wudang-mountain
I believe there are a few basic precepts about haiku that are largely overlooked, or just flat out just not taught in most basic literary (poetic) courses. Everyone seems to know that a haiku is supposed to be written in the structure of 5-7-5 syllables per line respectively, but there is much more going on than just a simple syllable constraint. I shall attempt to give a brief overview of the main points about haiku.
First off, the 5-7-5 syllable structure most often cited as being the sole 'structural rule' of haiku is based on the original Japanese constraint. However, the Japanese language and more specifically their word structure differ from English in a critical way when it comes to the definition of this structure. In the Japanese language, each sound unit is called an onji as opposed to our syllable. This unit of measure for a word is considerable more concise than what we use to define a syllable (typically only
|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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