|One of my earlier poems that I'm proud of.|
We Did NOT Know What We Were Getting IntoForgive me if I start to cry,We Did NOT Know What We Were Getting Into by angelichope
not knowing where my tears will land and stain.
Under stars we were.
Fresh as the dandelions we would blow on and make
We were as wishes,
magical, and exuding possibility, the good kind.
The world was big but not at all scary.
The world was just a lullaby sung in the arms of a mother.
We were just two kids on the roof of a car looking at stars.
You were by my side as we walk toward the sun.
I would like to believe that walk never ended,
and that it never will...but...
No, mother! Do not take us away! You will regret this!
It is not that bad now, oh, but just you wait.
We will keep singing a sad for who knows how long!
Why do the memories have to be so distant?
Why are my best days behind me even though you are so close to me?
Just a door away... so close... but not the same
because we are need of repair.
Almost everyday we walk through fire,
and almost everyday we are in a huge snowstorm,
and our talks have changed even when they a
PageI wrote your name with my heart,Page by angelichope
and I drew a heart around it.
Love in a single page.
So much I can do with that name.
I can say it,
or hum the syllables, etc.
My love, we could wake up tomorrow morning
and find each other
at the rising of the sun,
before the blue bird awakens
but while the already awaken song bird
While flowers from Heaven fall systematically
and I read you a poem that I wrote on the petals of
a rose, with the color of the rainbow.
Or I could wake up tomorrow
with an untouched heart,
sailing down the direction of loneliness
awaiting the eventual drop from the waterfall
because you're not here.
I still have that page with your name.
If I recall, I wrote your name and the heart
in crayon; I guess it signifies
how childish my dreams are and how childish I am.
Call my love childish if you want, but
maybe if you can see my heart and smile
when I think of him,
or how my heart wishes upon falling stars for him,
you would be a believer
AlwaysI would write so many songs for you,Always by angelichope
if only you would listen.
I would write so many songs for you,
if only you knew they are for you.
Speaking from my heart,
speaking from my want to see you again,
speaking from my love
that you make warmer than a fireplace.
I would write so many songs about you,
if only you could actually be there when I wake up.
One step taken in our universe,
one more moment to be in your presence.
You just don't know it's our universe,
that this slow moving night belongs to us.
They can never truly turn off the lights with us.
The path that led to you was Hell before the Heaven,
with you as the first angel to meet me.
As long as you are the light, they can never turn it off,
and you are the light.
I have written so many songs for you.
A Call Can ChangeSadness can sometimes blind.A Call Can Change by angelichope
Sadness can sometimes hide.
There's a beautiful starry night
and a beautiful early morning sunrise
behind those cold and in pain eyes,
and I want to visit it one day and love it,
but for now let's enjoy the beauty of this world
down to every nook and cranny.
I especially want to see you get knocked down by
emerald blue ocean waves at the beach,
and see you shine like a diamond in the light.
What Is A Story?Lit Basics Week
Well, the internet has a lot of entries when you search for the words "definition of story" (a lot possibly meaning millions). It's where many of us get our wisdom from, isn't it? One of the pages I selected said a "story" is defined as
"a narrative, either true or fictitious, prose or verse, designed to interest, amuse, or instruct the hearer or reader; tale."
I like the definition, and although that's not the only thing that a story is, I believe it's a nice groundwork to build up from. The most interesting parts are the words "prose or verse", "narrative", and "designed to interest, amuse or instruct": narrative, to me, implies the presence of a plot and so of a beginning-middle-end kind of structure. The second part tells me that a story needs to be told in a certain way. And "prose or verse" is a useful reminder that a story isn't only prose - it doesn't matter if your story is written in poetry or prose form
tWR Interviews: Plot BuildingHello everyone, and welcome to our "tWR Interviews", where we interview experienced writers of our community about the art of writing!
If you're reading, please favourite and share the article so we can spread this amazing resource around!
Today we're interviewing ML-Larson, PennedinWhite and ThornyEnglishRose on plot building. With added wisdom from raspil, LadyLincoln, julietcaesar, neurotype, illuminara and LiliWrites!
If you want to get some more educational reading, here are the other interviews we've released so far:On WritingProse and Poetry BasicsTo Rhyme Or Not To Rhyme?
Project Educate: How To Critique Fan FictionFan Fiction Week
Welcome to the next installment of projecteducate 's efforts, a whole week about fanfiction!
One of the biggest misconceptions about the fanfic community is that fanfiction is written just for the writer's own pleasure, to appease a fantasy, and so on; implying that fanfiction writers don't really care about growing as a writer and improving their skills.
That's not only generalizing and offensive, but flat out wrong. Like for any other types of writing, a big part of the community will not care for feedback or critique (for any reason, from fair to plain childish), but there is always a niche of writers who thrives on constructive criticism and actively seeks it.
So the real question is, how do you critique fanfiction?
(note: this article does not teach you how to critique - just how critiquing fanfiction works, in simple terms)
Does Fan Fiction Need a Different Approach
The quick answer is: not necessarily. You c
Pimps and Whoas
News from the Team
Celebrating Deviousness- April 2016
Homefront: The Revolution Contest Semi-Finalists
Homefront: The Revolution Contest Winners
Testing A New Thumbnail Grid
All "official" co
Welcoming New Deviants
Starting today, we're launching an ongoing initiative aimed at increasing community spirit by identifying deviants who are good at reaching out to others, and matching them with new deviants who might benefit from a kindred guide.
Joining a new community can sometimes feel daunting -- like you’re on the outside looking in. But we’re working on ways to make it easier for new deviants to meet others and get involved with the things that matter most to them.
If you're a deviant who often interacts with new deviants, you may receive a notification every so often. Currently, there isn't a way to opt-in to getting these notification, but you can increase your chances of receiving them by interacting with new deviants. The "New Deviants" section of the today page is a great place to start.
How It Works
We’ve selected a small group of deviants who’ve prov
DeviantART Compliments #156More compliments sent in by wonderful members of the community!
:iconflyingheartsplz: :icondacompliments: :iconflyingheartsplz:
Please consider faving this journal to help
bring more exposure to the dA Compliments project.
geez you're talented! you're going to go very far in life, i can sense it. you were made to succeed, don't let anyone tell you otherwise! you are amazing! keep being your amazing, amazing self. keep making awesome art! i will always be a die hard fan of yours.
angelichope You gorgeous person, you! Thank you for sharing your amazing writing with us! Thank you for supporting my writing. I truly appreciate your honest constructive critiques of my writing.
Thank you so much for your friendship and support! You are so talented and it means the world to me that you take the time to support my artwork and give me feedback. You have definitely played a major role in my growth a
Promoting Growth With Comments, Crit!mas Vol. 1Some of you may be aware that I've been ill of late; as such, I must apologize for the delay in all of my regularly scheduled postings.
To start off February, I'm featuring the participants of the Crit!mas challenge issued by BeccaJS. This was, of course, one of their promised prizes. I think this is fitting, given that the site has recently announced their endeavor to help the community grow by encouraging newer deviants to comment on works when they submit something (the idea being that if you receive a comment, you generally check out the commenter's page and might find something there you'd like to comment on as well).
For those who don't know, the Crit!mas challenge is an annual event lasting for 12 days in which the goal is to leave 12 critiques for 12 different people across the site. They don't have to have the formal critique feature enabled on their work, though those who do are generally
Happy New Year 2016! ^_^
Happy New Year everyone! ^_^ :iconcheerplz:
I really hope that 2016 will be way better than 2015 was... I faced my share of problems last year, but I overcame all of them, and with style! ^_~ I truly have no regrets. Things can only get better from here. I really feel hopeful about things and like I'm in a good place. I'm excited because I love New Years, it's my favorite holiday, and even though I'm not doing much tonight, it will still be a fun night.
This year, I'm going to be a lot more careful about who I talk to and who I focus my time and energy on. I'm not bringing the drama and problems from last year into this year with me.
It's time to get serious! I also may be spending a lot less time 'online' and a lot more focusing on my work. I have to do this, for not only myself, but for
Just One BiteIt's so amazing how
One little mistake
Can cost you years
Of heartache and pain...
(Is that you, agony?)
Such a fine line we walk,
Through this urban jungle,
Vast, and littered with filth;
And hidden beauty...
(Hello, old friend...)
The divine creator,
Playing with colors and patterns,
Savoring each and every hue,
Until it comes to you...
(Not this time...)
Where there is great beauty
There has always been pain,
Underlying and melancholy;
And to sample such a palette
Would surely mean...
On Your Distant ShoresI see the ocean
within your eyes
with their storm gray
I will sail away
to your distant shores
where the music can
still be heard.
We will play among
the standing stones,
draw runes within
the sands and watch our
messages washed away.
Our fingers touch
as the birds fly above,
you tuck a feather in my hair,
and tell me a Valkyrie left
it behind as she carried
off her brave dead.
I cradle my head in your lap
and listen to your stories
of the past.
At the forest's edge
I catch a glimpse
of the great stag,
and you laugh like the
roar of distant thunder.
DeclarationsShe wears jeans like a declaration of war.
Her guerilla assault on my affections
A silent song I can no longer ignore.
She laughs like a thund'rous rifle barks:
A sudden, final and fatal affliction,
A sniper's aim to pierce my guarded heart.
She walks away like a bomber jet's payload,
In her wake leaving longing lovers haunted,
Mine just one more life left wayward.
Each day is a storm I can weather no more,
Helpless against her beautiful gauntlet;
For she wears jeans like a declaration of war.
Disenfranchised"Who are all these people? And why are they here?"
"Same reason as us, Jack."
"No way, man. Look at them all. I'll bet most of them haven't even played Space Raiders 2. They're not real fans. They're just... followers."
"Shut up, Jack! Look, there she is!"
Jordan's outstretched finger pointed across the courtyard, beyond the murmuring crowd, to the source of the cheers and whistles. A small group of figures were walking in the sunshine, smiling and waving. Silver passes hung from blue cord around their necks, identifying them as exhibitors at the convention.
"Holy shit!", Jack said, pushing through the crowd. "I'm getting me an autograph!"
"Wait, Jack, we'll never get through-", Roxy protested, but he was almost lost to sight already. Jordan shrugged an eyebrow at Roxy, took her hand, and followed through the crowd as best he could, apologising as he went.
By the time they'd gotten through the crowd, Shelley Parker, Creative Director of D'Awesome Games, had reached the glassy doors of
If I had the time
I think I’d walk a little more,
strap on those sneakers sitting dusty on my floor.
I’d walk around the Parliament
and look inside the gates,
or maybe not; I’ve never been outside the States.
And when I’m at the Parliament
I’d meet a handsome man
with russet hair and eyes that ask “talk, if you can?”
We’d walk and chat into a pub,
one off the daily grind;
greasy ale aside, he’d cheekily blow my mind.
If I had the time
I think I’d read the classics,
wipe off my dirty mind and not be so drastic.
Each cover, face-to-face,
I’d read the scriptures of each place
and start a storybook club, then join the lambastes.
And when I’m at a library,
I know my mind would drift
onto that russet man, so my attention dips.
Then it would come in clarity,
my trailing dumb-luck find.
If I move fast enough, then it’s nobody’s crime.
When I’d had the time
Trying to express something...I never write poetry, but certain words won't leave me alone. I guess I'm just trying to express something in a poem, but I don't know what it is exactly that I'm trying to say.
Please be patient with me, and let me know what you think
Tears of blood fall from amber eyes
As she looked blindly at diamond dusted skies.
Reaching out with hands trembling,
Courage and bravery gradually crumbling,
Bitterness, anguish and sorrow she has cried,
The never-ending waterfall unable to be dried.
Seeking comfort in places she unknowingly lost,
Only to be scorned, or accepted at a cost.
Desperate to seek freedom in light,
Away from terror, away from blight,
Fly away she did, until she fell,
Into the dark recesses of a place she thought Hell.
Claws of darkness grasp each ankle,
Links of chain a scorching manacle,
Bound in place, burning, unable to leave.
Only Hope gave her the strength to believe.
Wings were ripped, but she struggles still,
Towards those heavenly be
Tenderheart The WickedA wounded animal is caught inside a trap;
There's no way out.
All the noble creatures of the forest see the animal,
Struggling and trying to get free...
But the only way to regain its freedom
Is to break the trap...
They outcry, saying it would be unfair to the trapper;
After all, it is their property,
And damaging it is wrong, unjust...
As if justice were a thing so set in stone;
They argue for the hunter,
For if the creature were to break the trap and free itself,
It would be hurting its attacker,
And then it wouldn't be any better
Than the very darkness that ensnared it.
Except they're forgetting one major thing,
That it's a piece of property
Aimed at deliberately hurting others;
Forged from tears of blood, with malicious intent...
The others all look down on the animal,
For the poor creature's view is obscured,
Since it's pinned down on the cold ground;
Rubies cascading slowly from its side,
Empty cacaphonies of anguish bellowing from its soul,
Jaws clenching and unclenching, and a
Mark of AnimusWhen her fingertips fall softly like rain,
Tapping lightly at the keys,
As the dark skies rain down around her,
Slickened tendrils falling off her shoulders;
They don't belong to her.
She is in hiding from all that afflicts her,
The people that make her feel sick inside,
None of them could ever know
Of the wicked secrets she hides within;
He has each one memorized.
She's seen it before in her dreams,
Never daring to believe it could be real,
Reality's run away with her, I'm afraid,
And her soul will not return;
Not until he's consumed all that's left.
It haunts her, lurking in the back of her mind...
His shadow forever hanging over her,
Like an ugly mark;
Like a carefully guarded secret, a mere whisper
Of all the things he would do;
If only he were unchained...
(If only... If only...)
But they can't go back.
AllegianceRise up --
from out of the deep,
in the black tide,
the red wake
of past transgressions
in the dry maw of future dreams
on the failing credit
I can hear them,
from star to star,
words made meaningless,
hollow without truth,
from a thousand mouths,
as fruitless prayers,
falling on the deaf ears
of a dying deity.
And so we bare the flesh,
before a voyeuristic sun,
and yet captivated,
we taste the sweet flavor
of strawberry lips
and lose ourselves
in the writhing
of dew glistened hips,
in the thoughtless pleasures
of a world
in the stagnant jet wash
of our ravenous gluttony.
in triangulated fire,
a brother lost
is another statistic we ignore.
sweet fantasies with poisoned water,
go down easier
than the bitter charcoal of reality.
A dream within a dream
is the new American nightmare --
bullets and ba
I am lost.I am lost. With my love, I falter
and sway with class. I am done: gather
wooden ashe. Let my heart kindle
your loving hands, as they guide me and
take me across lands: let my spirit rise as
you break my glass.
You're my life, my longing: my landmass.
Through every fear, I dash to you for comfort.
Though I am weak, you look past that.
I am lost.
Your smile is rapts me with it's warmth.
In your heart, I am kept warm by love.
How strange I was to think of you like sand,
That always melts into my hands.
You act unafraid, but even then:
I am lost.