Sacchariferousfor the AdmiralSacchariferous by ~SycamoreSea
my dandelions speak of
the kitchen, brimming
with sun-streaked sugar
and mended-over smiles.
floured fingerprints cloud the sky,
but every broken egg is one more yellow flower.
in sweetgrass and flowers
i find white-leaf bandages for cracked shells. coils of
sky
fill the bowl to the brim-
the world is a clean smile
wrapped in sugar.
everything here is white and pale as sugar
gathered to mend your flowered
smile.
i wish you'd swallow always fields of
dandelions that brim
with every clean, clear sky.
i'll measure out the sky
in cups of sugar.
fogged upon the rim
of the flour bowl- your fingerprints in flowe
Four Things She Thought About Before She Jumped1.Four Things She Thought About Before She Jumped by ~CyneNoir
She thought about her sister and how the shape of her face
became foreign in certain light, as if carved by the hands of a man
who had spent too much time on oil and canvas
to remember his own skin. Her eyes began to resemble chips of ice
as they filled with rainwater; the world like a river
that runs over them and
through them
without touching.
She thought about her sister
trying to talk in her sleep—
the way her tongue flapped uselessly
about her mouth, a coil of smooth muscle pinning itself
to her teeth. It spat syllables
like broken stones. She thought about her sister spread across
the bed sheets, palms turned upw
Crossing ArielYour wedding;Crossing Ariel by *crossing-ariel
you spoke your way toward it
one prospect at a time;
having not been
the cripple or whore,
you settled for
singularity, no future or past,
just announcement and umbra, joy in shade,
soft smiting breath.
How though did you put your children away?
Mylar-eyed,
squinting toward dawn.
If your days had been counted
purposefully,
perhaps you would have gone off
fatter, sated as a rook scavenging
in the quiet
instead of blindly staring out bread crumbs
like a gassed canary.
The shine of your boy's hungry mouth
did not dissuade your long whim;
to any call of loneliness
the answer was a towel,
clean and wet
and a
The Bear Fact People have their reasons for not wanting to engage in given activities. Disregarding any moral questions about the activity, I disdain being a hunter for other reasons. Such reasons include: the contemptible hours that are spent scouting out a viable position, the spending of time and funds in preparation, the tediousness of waiting for the game, and my personal bane of waking up very early in the morning. There is one experience that smote any potential for a desire to hunt for me.The Bear Fact by ~TheDizzyDan
The incident began during my fifth grade year, when winter’s chill struck early in my area. We suffered a turbulent ice storm for the
Perpetua: 1I.Perpetua: 1 by ~reflectionsinwater
Words, (or
Foot-
steps galloping, glazing over
oceans of glass according to them:
they leave a rather deep print
you see, a mist sweeping the hints
from this world. But invisible
below the glass ceiling, they’d all just see
in any mirror
a self-portrait of a white shadow
above hooves’
prints on blackened tidal roads.)
they withdraw, and howl
because words are just...
not enough for you.
II.
You and I had a bike,
and we used to spin it round the industrial site
that your white breath laid siege to, where a blank flag
cauterized from the breeze now
slumps: defeated and still. Wheels go round,
and it pushed the beati
These are fine examples of what literature is crafted to be. Take heed and take notice of their nuances and anatomy, for they are thunderbolts among this word-drenched thunderstorm. |
Bitlets 14The other day I caught my catBitlets 14 by ^NicSwaner
gnawing on the end of a pen.
That he had retrieved from the package.
On top of the fridge. In a plastic bag.
I guess the moral here is if you really want
to break a habit, terrify yourself with the thought
of coming into contact with cat saliva.
Bitlets 13My first girlfriend's name was Cindarella.Bitlets 13 by ^NicSwaner
Everybody finds that cute when they hear it and wants
to know more about the relationship that was:
how we met, what we did, do you have any stories—
At that point I'm spewing bibbidy-bobbidy-bogus
because all I remember was her hospital gown,
her ambulance-carriage, fairy godmother father,
the slip-on socks and the psych ward we shared.
Cinda was my first, but she was also that crazy ex.
And I learned I have a ball when I'm with girls diagnosed crazy.
Bitlets are about quantity, not quality. Free-write at least one a day about what is on your mind, going on around you, or the state of your life. Ignore the urge to edit; it's not about being profound on purpose, it's about stumbling on it by accident. |
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E-Literature CatalogWorld Lit I Spoken Word I Science Fiction I Crime and Mystery I Spoken HeardI will update this on a weekly basis with spoken word from deviantART writers and elsewhere! If you have a suggestion for someone (on or off dA) to be featured for Spoken and Heard, send me a note!. My PerformancesNic Swaner - Bully [Slam Poetry]  5/22/2013: This was a painful poem to write and revise, but this is my most expressive poem to date, and successively my most personal. I don't think people get told straight up that they are bullying and intimidating those around them and those close to them, but I was fortunate enough to be told this, and in a way that it got through. Upon learning that my family was afraid of me, that my brother was weight training because of this fear, I had to reevaluate myself, who I was, and who I was being to others in mid-2012. I don't know if anything I've learned has stuck, or if every situation will require me to approach it as I have for the past year (almost). It's hard to change with Aspergers, Epilepsy, and a slew of mental disorders that are relatively mild, but I appreciate change for what it can accomplish.</justify> Wanna know how to code this? |
I don't think I have words to express my gratitude, but it was a dream come true this morning, and just what I needed to make my day. C:
Sta.sh
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