| Still probably the best piece of prose I've ever written, whatever that's worth. |
From the Top of the Stairs
Newest
My Son's CatMy son is learning to speak to me. He points toward our kitchen table: solid oak, four legs,My Son's Cat
and proclaims "Kitty!"
"No," I explain to him,
"this is a table,
we eat here."
His baby smile twitches into a small man's frown; mouth parted slightly,
he whispers "kitty."
I glance headlong
at the table, imagining a four-legged feline
made of oak.
As his mother, I want him to know the difference between mammals
and inanimate objects.
A writer, I nod "Yes, a kitty."
by =derivablezero
DepressionThat year it was hardDepression
convincing people to let him
into their vehicles. He fixed sewing machines
but his business
card also listed et cetera: it was handwritten
on stained paper. If asked for a clean one he said it was all he had and in fact, he needed that one back.
That year, a Georgia state repairing license took twenty five dollars from poor men; but he pushed on, rusty tools in tow,
business card ready to flash. Cars passed, some stopped,
most hurrying their ways to nowhere not concerned if he
by =derivablezero
| Feel free to ignore this section of my page. |
Poetry
NaciremaThe most bleached pure lilies dancing in the spinning winds, weaving colorless silly tapestries for nearby friends.Nacirema
Bleeding, staggering roses brandishing green stained swords. Warring nature though none notice their limbs littering floors
The sad grieving violets hiding their tears in the rains. They know well the world's violence, often picked to share pain.
Pain, joy, and sadness paint such beautiful hues, They own this land we stand on these reds, whites, and blues.
by ~StrifeSaint
my siren museThere is an oasis where I take refuge. It is brimming with intricate foliagemy siren muse
Whose leaves secrete comfort in hearty drops. I was fed the wild orchids to give me courage And had oleander petals laid over my eyes To make me dangerous. I was collecting vigor in shallow bowls And humming songs with forgotten words to clear my mind When I noticed you there.
I caught your eyes stealing glances From behind the verdant banks of the lake. You had the same expression on your face As the first night I saw you in candlelight. A smiling grimace,
An ecstasy of caus
by *ineffable
A Tail of Two Prongs"A Tail of Two Prongs"A Tail of Two Prongs
We've talked once or twice. Me and her labia. Or should i say her labia and i.
"Play me a tune on your fork maestro!"
She knows, yes she knows. Two prongs too long to tune wrong. Perfect pitch hero harmonizing her swoon song.
She writes poetry and prose. Well, she tries to. Take her paragraph, tear in half And a few lines slide through.
Her oceans aren't deep But At least the sky is bright blue.
She is a Professional bitch. And still cant pay the rent. Perhaps she is in the wro
by ~mibi
Final ThoughtsI could repent my dissent and prevent my descent but I meant to pretend in the end, it made sense. But the end should have come a long time ago, we both just held on, although we both know that we are no longer two peas in a pod, two bees with a job, you see it's just wrong. I can't be the guy who just cheers from the yard, invite me inside, you'll see it's not hard. My love was a gift, I gave it to you, my hopes and my dreams, betrayed them for you. Yes we are different, from two separate worlds, with you being highbrow and me being poor. You told me "no matter, I couldFinal Thoughts
by `hempingway
Friends
Visitors
- Oct 14, 2009 @ 2:35 pm~slather
- Oct 1, 2009 @ 11:00 am*RalfMaximus
- Sep 25, 2009 @ 9:18 am~QyJx
- Sep 13, 2009 @ 9:19 am^fllnthblnk
- Sep 8, 2009 @ 11:26 pm~dedeus
Winners Announced! 
LovedeviantID
| I'm a critic. It's the only thing I'm really good at. Feel free to look at my gallery if you want, but it probably won't be nearly as interesting as my journal, where I have featured contests and writing tips that may help or inspire you if you are a writer. If you are thinking about saying "Thank you for the crit on [link]!", please do not do this on my page. My page is not a place for you to promote your writing. If you feel you must say thank you, a simple "Thanks" will suffice. If you want a critique, please don't post that on my page, either. Send me a note and I will be more than happy to review any or all of your work in your gallery. Other than that, my name is Sarah. I have no credentials other than a college education and a love of words. I'm decently well-read and from some stroke of insanity am diving head first back into community organizing and motivating here on DeviantART. I've been on dA off and on for seven years on several different accounts. This is one that I've chosen to stick with. My reason for being here is a desire to help the literature community. And I'm trying to, one word at a time. |
Devious Info
- Current Residence: Lafayette, LA
- Interests: words
- Favourite poet or writer: Nicole Blackman, Stephen King, Victor Frankl, C.S. Lewis, George Orwell, Richard Brautigan...
- Personal Quote: Happiness ensues from movement.
- Tools of the Trade: brain cells, environmental awareness
- Website: http://myspace.com/sarahofthestars
- Email: sarahnieman@gmail.com
- AIM: peacockflag
Fave News
- 17 Be a Critic Contest Winners Announced! - Mar 8, 2009
- 13 New Contest Open to All Deviants - Feb 24, 2009
- 44 A How-To on Accepting Critique (Lit) - Feb 22, 2009
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since light travels faster than sound, that might explain why some people seem bright until they open their mouths
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The true value of art lies in the emotional effect created. – Me
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aku
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I outgrew it.
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Be God's
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Oh Come My Way!! Oh Come My Way!! Oh....crap!!
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'I am leaving, I am leaving. But the fighter still remains.'
Aimee Mann, seriously? I think I do love you back. Have you heard her singing The Scientist?
True (albeit embarrasing) fact: I discovered her when I fell in love with Pavlov's Bell which I heard while watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
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Support bacteria: it's the only culture most people have.
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