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Sorry for the long MIA. Real life is bogging me as usual. To make it up, I've got a MASS favourites in store for ya!

A Robot's EpiphanyHe was built to be the ultimate test subject. Not the source of knowledge itself. No, no, more so knowledge regarding the topic of a quantum space hole and the vast underground facility he once called "home". But he did not know everything about the world beyond. The books he read and the pictures he saw assured him he did, but deny it he did. He denied that he truly knew what it meant to be alive...to be human. For somewhere deep within him he realized a sense of emptiness. An emptiness yearning to be filled with something a mechanical being like him could never possess.
Wandering through the blizzard, paying no heed to a word anybody spoke to him. The only thing occupying his mind was his destination at the mysterious mountain peak. Clouded with thought, he disregarded the cold reaching the deepest and most vital parts of his mechanical body, and he wound up collapsing forward onto the snow. Though the pain throughout his body was great, he was more so impressed by the vision he had
by :iconwall-erox24-7:

and so lucifer made himhis voice was thickly poured
orange juice,
(concentrated, it seemed-- just for
you)
on a
deserted skeleton beach;
sun seeping through
jagged and rustling
timber bones.
but he was
lying through his teeth;
knee-deep in saturated
words that he should've
kept to himself,
and
gritty sand forged instead of his
own name.
("even lucifer at first seemed
beautiful"),

the sun coughed out.
and he just stood there,
black gems in his eyes and
a pitchfork in his
right hand,
finally shedding his
skin.
(at last, i thought.
i found not only the cracks
of his teeth, but
the crook in his jaw.)
by :icondelirious-eyes:

RelinquishI slump in my chair, staring at my computer but not seeing anything.
She gives a barely audible knock and walks into my room. She sits on my bed and looks at me, trying to read me, as a mother should.
“So . . .” she asks carefully, more carefully than she’s ever spoken before. “What do you think about all this?”
Drowning, clawing, scratching in the dark
Voices without bodies
I am screaming, I am bleeding, I cannot think

I hate talking about emotions. I hate talking in general. But this is different, this is big, this is something she is genuinely trying to help with. I understand that.
I must say something.
I wipe my hands on my sweatpants and clear my throat, not meeting her eyes. “Well, I . . . I’m surprised. But not really surprised, because, y’know, knowing—knowing her. . .”
She nods. Her gaze is tangible, like a warm beam of light. “I know. Same here.”
How can you understand, you’ve never under
by :iconsaroda:

EntityIt's in the small, round, cavern-like room that she realises, she has fog in her skin. She sees it twisting, unravelling as it sways, and observes it with an incredulous gaze for just a few moments, before turning her eyes to the narrow pedestal in the middle of the room.
There's a shadow.
It stands tall, black wisps dancing away from their owner, barely maintaining their form before joining the surrounding air. The wisps, unlike her own, were free to roam.
The shadow dipped its hand into a small white bowl, embedded into the pedestal, with black inscriptions that looked uncannily familiar.
It seemed to gaze back at her with, what she could instinctively tell, was a smirk.
She watched with silent fascination, and fear, already knowing that she didn't want to see, whatever it was going to show. As the small hand was raised into her line of sight, she visibly shuddered.
She couldn't fathom why.
The shadow held what looked like a soft blood-red shawl. It fell in waves, almost shimm
and RemnantHer hands were pressed against the window, as she watched a single light flicker inside the room.
She stayed there for a while, feeling the chilly breeze sweep across her arms, before letting her hands drop back down to her sides. Turning around, her hair swayed with the movement. The patchwork maze of small, rectangular shrubbery and flower bushes that she had walked through earlier in the morning had now been bathed in golden layers, the leaves almost glittering in the light.
The sun was setting.
She took a moment to lean on her toes, staring through the glass floor, seeing the city she'd never visited and thought it strange that her fear of heights was no where in sight. She turned her gaze to the right when she heard a familiar sound.
A boy, who seemed to be slightly younger than her, sat in a wheelchair.
"What are you doing here?"
The question startled her, and she froze, before hesitantly answering. "I'm... not entirely sure." She looked down at her feet for a second then turned
by :iconentitaria:

Mature Content

by :iconscarletnalick:

BreakingI sit alone at a table in the far corner of the crowded room, easily ignored by the people around me. I can still picture my wife, sitting in the chair across from me, complimenting the soup that I sip on now, which had always seemed a little bland to me. Ever since her passing, I have been left alone, spending my days sitting in her favorite spot and thinking of the times that came before.
I hear him first, rather than see him. His shoes stomped loudly into the old folk’s home and, even though there was only one pair of feet, his footsteps sounded like a bull participating in a wild stampede. People turned to glare at him as he walked past. I did not look up.
“What has upset you, my boy?” I ask in my hoarse, aging voice, keeping my eyes glued to the lukewarm soup.
“Mother and Father won’t let me join the school’s soccer team. They offered me the goalie position.” My grandson, Matthew, whines. “They say it will take away from my studies.
by :iconbreatheforlife:

Wrapped Up In HerselfWhen she was six I came home one afternoon early and found her in my room with my box of art supplies upside down and my collection of long peacock feathers glued to her belt to make a lackluster skirt. The feathers were longer than her legs so when she backed away from me, surprised that I had come home, she tripped and smacked her head against my desk. There was an orange half moon on the horizon of the wood always after that. The funny thing was, I hadn't been angry in the first place. Seven days later she told me she had stolen the peacock feathers because she'd been learning about them in school. Her teacher had told her that peacocks were the most beautiful of all of the animals, and she told me that she wanted to be beautiful too. That night I'd tucked her quilt around her, kissed her sore little forehead and told her; you are already beautiful. I understood how she felt.
When she had just turned seventeen I caught her again. It was Christmas and I had come home a day earlier th
by :iconpoetryod:

Gentleman"You see, I'm always scared," he said, eyes fixated on his cup of coffee. "I don't like letting people close to me. Even when I was younger, I kept my distance from everyone. Never had a serious relationship till I was twenty, but when it happened, it was unstoppable. I'd always been kind of resigned to the thought that I'd never fall in love, because I was, you know, gay, and that's a taboo in this kind of world."
He ran a hand through his neatly combed hair and continued, still never meeting my eyes. "He's amazing, you know? For once in my life, I didn't feel like I was a freak. I could really let out who I was. I brought him home and my parents loved him, and for once, 'gay' didn't seem like a fucking, I don't know, insult or a fucking label. You're engaged, aren't you?"
I nodded, showing him my wedding ring. His lower jaw tensed.
"You know what it's like, then, to have someone right for you. Someone where you don't care that people are staring. I pretty much gave him everything, yo
by :iconblubbityblub:
More Journal Entries

Express Yourselves

Ever feel like you want to express yourself but lack the artistic skills and talent for it?

Ever feel like you express yourself better with the written word?

Ever feel like words speaks to you as the highest form of art rather the art itself?

Then this is the perfect place for you!

All forms of literature, both stories, poems and fanfictions are here for you to fully let your imagination loose!

So go ahead! Let those creative juices flow and enjoy this group!

Admins

Founder


:iconblackknightgargie:

Deviants

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Unite for the Right to Write!
:icondeutschedichter::iconnurturing-narratives::iconwritersxworld::iconbuild-your-platform:

Comments


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:iconxbennyrgraux:
xBennyRGraux Featured By Owner Sep 16, 2015  Professional General Artist
Thank you for adding my work, cup of fame, here!
Reply
:icon12peaceart:
12PeaceArt Featured By Owner Aug 12, 2015  Hobbyist Digital Artist
It seems featured is the only place that I am able to submit any work to...

is that okay? Or do you only request our work? If so.. link:

opinionatedb.deviantart.com/ar…

And you can decide if you want it in your group..
Reply
:iconraddily:
raddily Featured By Owner May 27, 2014  Student Digital Artist
Welp. I didn't know this was a poem group...do I need to remove my deviations from here?
Reply
:iconmargaret-belt:
Margaret-Belt Featured By Owner Apr 10, 2014  Student Writer
Not exactly who requested my new story to be in the group but THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! :D it's such an honor! ~Margaret
Reply
:iconworldwar-tori:
WorldWar-Tori Featured By Owner Mar 20, 2014   General Artist
Thank you for the request :rose:
Reply
:iconsapphire-x-dreams:
Sapphire-X-Dreams Featured By Owner Mar 12, 2014
I submitted a poem called 'I Don't Want to Call This Poem Waiting' and it was accepted into the 'Featured' folder instead of the 'Poetry' section. Is it possible to switch it over to that section instead? ^^ 
Reply
:iconcreataire:
creataire Featured By Owner Jan 28, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
i accidentally submitted my poem 'little seeds' to featured and it was accepted before i could fix it! i'm sorry but maybe one of your mods should move it to the regular poetry?
Reply
:iconeremitik:
Eremitik Featured By Owner Nov 20, 2013
Thank you very much for requesting Would to be included in your gallery!
Reply
:iconlittleblueraccoon:
littleblueraccoon Featured By Owner Nov 4, 2013  Student Writer
Thanks for the request! :tighthug: I appreciate it!
Reply
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