[x]

Just Tell the Fucking StoryOkay, so I saw this journal that contained a number of tips, including a detailed section on 'show don't tell,' and I had an epiphany. There was an 'Oh' and everything so you know it's legit.
For a while now I have wondered why amateur writers write the most mind-numbingly long descriptions that I could not care about even a little (yes, my attention span is short, why'd you think I put in so many GIFs? but anyway, I'm a bit atypical there). I mean, I don't want the 'flames of burning searing pain of the aching broken heart' all up in my grill. I'd genuinely prefer a 'he hated her after the break up.' That's all I need to know about that? Good. Move on.
And that's the 'oh' moment: when people tell you to show not tell, they always fail to mention 'pacing.'

Look, there are times when it's best to convey a mood. His trembling fingers reach for the full glass, her voice an angry buzz in the back of his mind--I'd consider that a reasonable establishing shot. But if you're halfway t

DEAR TEEN ME CONTEST: The Results are IN!
Whoa. You guys came to play! We got over 200 entries for the DEAR TEEN ME contest, and we are both delighted and shocked and...well, exhausted after reading so many heartfelt entries!
First of all, I want to thank everyone who entered. This is a very personal writing endeavor and I know it's hard to put yourselves out there so I hope you all give yourselves a hug for me!
Secondly, I want to thank my co-judges, $wreckling, =Cassildra, ^neurotype and ~Vocable. I think I would have drowned in letters if it weren't for you guys!
SO. Without further ado, here are your winners!

First place, which wins a prize pack of Zest books including DEAR TEEN ME signed by various authors in the anthology (and ME!); a1 year premium membership, a laptop bag

Let it snow - CONTESTDEADLINE
THE RESULTS ARE UP!
This contest started on December 1st 00:00 GMT+2/EET and ended March 1st 00:00 GMT+2/EET - here's a link that helps you convert that in your time zone: Contest Deadline: Let it snow.
THEME
LET IT SNOW - Your work has to revolve around this theme.
Examples:

ACCEPTED MEDIUMS
All (Photography, Digital art, Traditional art, Artisan Crafts, Literature - literally all mediums as long as the

Fabulous Friday Feature 15: DeathGorgeous skin by *CherieNoir: http://azizriandaoxrak.deviantart.com/favourites/52505440#/d47ql50

Greetings, all, and welcome to my fifteenth
FABULOUS FRIDAY FEATURE
This week, I'm taking a peek at the immortal theme of DEATH. Next week, I'll be trying to capture my love for my home state of North Carolina. If you've got someone you think should be featured in next Friday's Feature, send me a note with a link to their gallery and I'll take a peek

I'd also love to hear about other features, particularly themed ones. I'll list those in the bottom section to help spread the word! The same goes for contests or news articles!
Please favorite this journal and pass it on! And if you liked this feature, be sure to check out the one from last week: http://azizriandaoxrak.deviantart.com/journal/Fabulous-Friday-Feature-14-Adoration-346652379
I am ALWAYS seeking donations and nominations for my pay-it-forward proje

Communal Karma #2Communal Karma
Hello there and welcome to the second edition of Communal Karma.
In the Communal Karma series I highlight the devious little squirrels who have suggested literature DD's in the past month. To do this I will collect the names of the suggesters from the past months DD's. I am aware, of course, that many other deviations are being suggested to our lovely and all powerful overlords but I don't have access to those!
The point of this feature is to make those who support the literature community get seen themselves, a karmic reward for doing good and expecting nothing in return. It might also encourage more people to suggest incredible literature for the site-wide feature, which is also great because it means that the CV's will have eyes and ears all over the site finding amazing unseen gems to share with the rest of us.
Suggesting a Daily Deviation is a very kind thing to do. It doesn't happen at the click of a button and these people made conscious decisions

Communal Karma #1Communal Karma
Hello there and welcome to the first ever Communal Karma. This will (hopefully) be a new monthly feature I will do.
In the Communal Karma series I will highlight the devious little squirrels who have suggested DD's in the past month. To do this I will collect the names of the suggesters from the past months DD's. I am aware, of course, that many other deviations are being suggested to our lovely and all powerful overlords but I don't have access to those!
The point of this feature is to make those who support the literature community get seen themselves, a karmic reward for doing good and expecting nothing in return. It might also encourage more people to suggest incredible literature for the site-wide feature, which is also great because it means that the CV's will have eyes and ears all over the site finding amazing unseen gems to share with the rest of us.
Suggesting a Daily Deviation is a very kind thing to do. It doesn't happen at the click of a but

The Literature Community ExperimentThis is a typical example of a ^Beccalicious shower pondering! The idea of this is to try and bring together as many people as possible all in one journal, but not for the sake of making a big number, but to encourage interaction and share useful tidbits. We often say the "literature community" has drifted apart over the past few years and this is just one attempt to try get people to come back together. It's a little hippy, perhaps a far-fetched idea, which is why I am calling it an "experiment". This could be successful and could be a complete fail- only you guys and your efforts can decide its fate!

Wow! The response for this has been HUGE!!! Thank you so much all of you who have participated! Don't forget to add #CRLiterature to your watch as well as replying to all these wonderful comments!

The Experiment
So you may be new to the literature side of deviantART, or you may be one of those long

Lit of the Week 50: FeatureHello everyone! Welcome to Lit of the Week 50! We're doing a special journal feature: Every Lit of the Week winner we've had since Lit of the Week started! Get ready for awesomeness!

by ~almcdermid

by =bowie-loon123

by *toxic-nebulae

by *Scarlettletters

by *Judah-Leonardo

by *Vigilo

by ~RestlessSands

by ~WetKakashi

by *BeyondJen

by ~pseudometry

by =iPawed

by ~Avallynh

by =doughboycafe

by ~angeljunkie

by ~Phu-Phu-Hugs-Me

by `FuzzyHoser

by =SilverInkblot

by =QuiEstInLiteris

by `CrumpetsHarvey

by =Aconitum-Napellus

by ~almcdermid

by :devl

Community Project: One-Sentence-At-A-Time [CLOSED]

Well, that's a wrap! *SCFrankles got in the last word this time. Expect the deviation to be posted sometime tomorrow. Thanks for a smashing success!
You've all seen these, I am sure. The idea is one person starts a story with a single sentence. Each participant writes a comment that adds another sentence to continue the story. You can leave as many comments as you'd like, but no two can be back to back. Please make sure you read previous comments so you know what general direction the story is headed.

Some ground rules:

The story will be written in third person omniscient which allows us to be in any character's head at any time. But try not to do too much jumping as that gets confusing.

Absolutely stick to the ONE sentence per comment rule. They can be compound sentences.

Let's aim to have this story done by January 5th at 11:59pm Pacific Time. I'll compile all the comments into one

The Unexpected Love ContestHas someone special that you love surprised, delighted, or changed your life in an unexpected, but joyful way? I want to hear your stories.
So Unexpected…
One of the best things about finding new love is the excitement and anticipation of the unknown. All of us at one time have felt that exhilarating feeling of unforeseen passion. I want for you to express to me in a poem or short story this unexpected feeling, and what it ultimately means to you. Be as vividly original as you can to make your deviation stand out, but do keep our key elements of what you feel the aspects of “unexpected love” entails as your primary motivation while writing.
Your Submission Guidelines:

Your submissions must be new deviations entered after today. Please <a wytiwyg="1" href="http://my.deviantart.com/notes/#tk=dgUMWxYIWApzVU1cR2h8BFBPfAwNVFpfXw%3D%3D">

Vintage Christmas Short Story Contest

Officially, this contest is now closed, but I've given the green light to a late entry or two. If you still want to enter and need another day or so to finish up, please let me know if you haven't already. For the rest of you, closed! Judging is already in progress, and I hope to announce the results on Christmas Eve.

Entry Gallery
Come on, people! The deadline is TOMORROW and I only have two entries. Let's get the rest in! Please be aware that if they're a bit past the deadline, it won't matter. Just get them done as soon as you can. We don't want this contest to be a flop, now do we?
Halloween is over, and for many of us, that can only mean one thing: time to get excited about Christmas! Let us begin with a few definitions from good old dictionary.com.
vin·tage
[...]
9. representing the high quality of a past time: vintage car

DDs Aren't PerfectLooking at a positive trend in lit DDs.

Probably the biggest demand authors on this site have is for more constructive feedback. And guess what? One of the ways you do end up getting some great advice is when you get a sitewide feature.
Here are a few quotes from great critiques seen in October's DDs, and yes I have chosen sentences that are offering constructive feedback rather than positivity, so don't assume these critics were pointlessly harsh. I've left them anonymous just in case, but if you recognize your words here, please understand they're appreciated!
I'd suggest incorporating more turns of phrase to keep the language fresh.
I feel as though the action around the beginning of the fire could be a little more clear, and perhaps the setting, too.
I think with a little more condensation, you could make a greater impact upon the reader.
I think shorter would work better, because then you're not adding more 'filler', and shorter sentences work to increase intensity.
Anyway,

TWG's Featured Deviant of the Month - Nov. 2012

Hello, lovely members! =LadyofGaerdon here to continue our series:

Featured Deviant of the Month

for
:icontalentedwritersguild:
October's Featured Deviant is..........

:iconstardivider1plz::iconstardivider3plz:

:iconNicSwaner:

^NicSwaner

:iconstardivider1plz::iconstardivider3plz:
#TalentedWritersGuild is a literature group committed to the encouragement, collection, and archival of high quality prose and poetry works. To find out more about the group, please click here.
Here at #TalentedWritersGuild, we encourage deviants to select only their best pieces of literature for submission. As judges, we look for pieces that simultaneously move us, challenge us, and inspire us as readers; pieces that stimulate us emotionally and intellectually; and the pieces that display true technical skill. When we vote, we

The VillanelleSo, form poetry.
Daunting, right?
I never thought I would be a poet. I was a story-teller, a writer of fiction, a female Hemingway for the new era.
And then I took my first university writing class.
And fell in love with writing poetry. Free form, flowing, no-holds-barred, no-need-for-rhyme poetry.
So, how did I come to fall in love with writing form poetry?
Form poetry pushes me, personally, as a writer. When it comes to creating something specifically to put it in a box, I am a perfectionist. And, perhaps in this case, that's a good thing.
The first poetry form I had to use in college was the villanelle:
Refrain 1
Line 2
Refrain 2
Line 4
Line 5
Refrain 1
Line 7
Line 8
Refrain 2
Line 10
Line 11
Refrain 1
Line 13
Line 14
Refrain 2
Line 16
Line 17
Refrain 1
Refrain 2
There are five tercets and a concluding quatrain. The refrains must rhyme.
Mad Girl's Love Song by Sylvia Plath
"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my l

Lit-Visual Alliance Allied Artwork Feature #5

Hello my glorious Allies! It's time again to showcase more of the amazing Allied Artwork pieces that have been making their way into our
Featured Folder over at #Lit-Visual-Alliance.
:iconlit-visual-alliance:
What is the Alliance, you ask?
The Alliance is a project group intended to encourage visual and literary artists to work together. I've felt for some time that the dA Literature Community can at times be somewhat insular - to its detriment. We in the Lit Community are also sometimes prone to griping about the lack of exposure our work receives when compared to that of visual artists. So in the spirit of ^thorns brilliant Complaint Challenge I thought I would try to do something about that. And so the Alliance was

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Submitted: December 12, 2012
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Winter Alliance Contest!

Journal Entry: Wed Dec 12, 2012, 8:22 PM

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Greetings, fair Allies! It is my pleasure to announce the Winter Alliance Contest!

What is the Alliance, you ask?

The Alliance is a project group intended to encourage visual and literary artists to work together. I've felt for some time that the dA Literature Community can at times be somewhat insular - to its detriment. We in the Lit Community are also sometimes prone to griping about the lack of exposure our work receives when compared to that of visual artists. So in the spirit of ^thorns brilliant Complaint Challenge I thought I would try to do something about that. And so the Alliance was born!

Because I, your founder, have a deep and abiding love for the seasons, this group will now host seasonal contests, and as the Autumn Contest is now over, it is time for Winter to reign.

The contest starts right now, and ends March 1st. At that time, the Spring Contest will begin.

The rules of the contest are simple: create a work of art, centered loosely around the theme of Winter, based on another work of art (literature based on visual artwork or visual artwork based on literature, in keeping with the theme of the group). The theme is very open to interpretation. As you can see from the rather ridiculously long inspiration feature below, there are a multitude of winter-related subjects out there. Just a small sampling would be: snow, ice, cold, holly, ivy, Christmas (and the associated stockings, Christmas trees, Santa, elves, reindeer, tinsel, ornaments, presents, etc,), all the other various holidays that occur this time of year - Hanukkah, Kwanza, Yule/Solstice (actually the Solstice can be a winter subject separate from the Pagan holiday, just as the shortest day of the year). This contest is going until March 1st, so Valentines Day also counts as a winter holiday for the purposes of this contest, and is an accepted subject. These are just ideas, however, and I've no doubt you can think of things I didn't.

This does NOT have to be a new piece! HOWEVER, what I really don't want you to do is find an old winter poem or painting and then search for a corresponding artwork that you think kinda sorta goes along with it. That's cheating, my dears. This contest and this group is all about being inspired by different types of artwork! Also, it's unlikely to help you win.

Entries will be judged on the following criteria, in order:

How well the deviation ties into the inspiring piece.

How well the deviation ties into the Winter theme.

Impact

Quality

Creativity

PRIZES:

1st: 200

+ feature by =LadyofGaerdon and #Lit-Visual-Alliance

2nd: 150

+ feature by =LadyofGaerdon and #Lit-Visual-Alliance

3rd: 100

+ feature by =LadyofGaerdon and #Lit-Visual-Alliance

Deadline: March 1st

Entries are unlimited! Go wild!

Please submit entries to the Winter Contest folder.

To help you guys get into the spirit and start those creative juices flowing, here is a feature from our brand new Winter Inspiration favorites folders: Please note that the inspiring deviation does not have to be one of these! It's just to give you an idea. More Winter Inspiration can be found in our Favorites Folders and you are free to suggest Winter-themed pieces as well. Soon I will be opening up folders for the other seasons that you will be welcome to submit to also.

Winter Literature Inspiration:

perpetual decemberwould you give me your december?
i am holding out my frail plywood wrists
and begging you for something
too heavy for either of us to hold

[though you are somehow cradling it
in your fractured celestial mind].

would you sing december to me?
would you play it in thirds
and mold it into something i can see?
i would give the dying bamboo
on my window sill to feel you again

[like when you cut your hands on raw selenite
but they don't bleed].

december is slipping out of our reach.
she is slipping quietly out the door
and i have my hands held high
like sentinels of the sky
and my eyes closed in patient rapture.

but you

I Have Always Loved WinterI have always loved winter
With its caressing touch of icy-bright fingers
That stroke past my flesh with a tingle that lingers
A crystalline splinter
I have always loved winter

She was constantly cold
Her skin was of porcelain, her hands were of snow
And timidly soft into my hands they’d go
But her lips were more bold
She was constantly cold

Like embers her kisses
That latched onto mine like a coal hotly dropping
Down fast onto ice sheets without sign of stopping
And sputters and hisses
Like embers her kisses

But I liked the cold best
That bit of her most like a clear, frozen shard
And it pleased me to see her grow palli

Of treesDeep ghost-groves of freckled aspen
burn white beneath the winter sun,
whisper hoary adulation,
canticles for the Holy One.
And in the trees, the spirits dance
betwixt the motes of starry snow
illuminated by the lance
of lightning flash and candle glow.
All lights within this place combine,
reflect in splendour, white on white,
and mingle in a trance sublime
that breathes in peace through winter night.

The lofty heads of stately pine
rear up and brush the lowered sky
as if they could, by straightened spine,
so please the God who built them high.
Their incense needles, fragrant, fall
in silence to the chapel floor
and still a

Winter's Kissi saw winter dancing
nude

so i grabbed her
wrist

and pulled her in for a kiss.

with a sweet, slow
retreat

i swept her off
her feet,

and carried her down to summer.

MY WINTER EQUINOXFalling, slowly falling, snowflakes intertwine
themselves with the crystal maelstorm in my veins,
I feel them melt the noisy grime from my skin
moonlight pale, sometimes I wish I could glaze me
in the tears and haze of Spring's gentle unfurls-
but Winter has always been more real to me, her
bloodline pulses with the essence of Purity,
and Eternity pine-scented, her snowflakes help me
to find my tears as she melts me into an endless
kiss, but I still wish for the frosty Stars to
smile their light on my bruised lips and cleanse
away the blemishes from my warm white interpretations
-then I would be free, I feel her compel my hurt
to

to be born in the rainThe sky's cold tears fall
mingling with the salty trails on my face.
I am born with a winter's rain
caressing my newly formed cheeks,
stiff limbs taking first steps through puddles -
tiny oceans gracing black pavement.
So this is what it feels like

to
b r e a t h e

fresh, cold air floods tender senses,
tingling and full of a thousand new smells
connected with sights and sounds.
Birth is a cold, fresh, marvelous thing
pulsing and swaying to the discordant music
of new life.

Frozen MemoriesBy accident,
I found her tombstone.

It lay buried beneath snow,
encased in ice,
under a canopy of white held aloft by the trees.

I had been walking,
focusing,
as I often do,
on the clouds of steam rising from my mouth,
and what they meant to me,
when my foot caught hold of the crumbling cross,
and sent me tumbling down...
down...
down...

I caught myself on hands in a sea of crystal white,
flesh stinging from the cold,
my foot aching in pain,
burning hot in the winter wood.

Why would there be a grave here?

What poor soul would be forever lost in this hollow?

Carefully,
in the cold,
throughout the fading light,
and into a

December BuddhaDecember cracks open like hazelnuts,
crinkled brown and brittle, dry from the fire,
cold-crisp and crunching as needles of pines.
As usual, wisdom comes just in time,
reminder to hold on to my forest,
to my stories, to make myself buddha.

I am lacking, no quiet rain-buddha,
born, as I was, a tight-curled hazelnut,
but I do send roots into my forest,
and in summer spread Colorado fire.
I find that more and more I pass the time
among the kings that are my totem pines.

In North Carolina, December pines
not for sun but for a softer buddha,
a figure to remind the month that time
ends not with January; hazelnut,
it curls in on itsel

Winter PeopleHere
the skies are grey and
soft and soundless,

the old hills rolling slowly
frozen solid and
impenetrable,

the trees bare
ancient bloodless fingers
grasping at the horizon.

We move slowly and without precision and
our tongues twist and turn and whisper secrets,
our language a huge bright thing

we wield always like a
dull weapon.
We are a winter people:

the seasons shape us strangely, we become
old ghosts of ourselves,
thick-haired and lumbering

through the darkness except sometimes
we are roused by circumstance or occasion,
we catch a glimpse of the blue mediterranean

and feel ourselves
come
wonderfully alive

our skin

a cardinal's pleapretty bird, it flutters
just beneath the clouds,
it teases the trees and whispers to the sky—
       hold me catch me, do it  now,
       there
       will be no later, for i perish.

meager bird, its wings
are melting blood-red
teardrops in the snow, it wails—
       steal me keep me, there's not much time
       the days are longer and the nights are shorter and
       i fear that i'll be
&#

Peace On EarthFreedom is not free

Love, it never lasts

Forgiveness has its limits,

We are trapped within our pasts.

After
all the bodies fall,
After
al

Santa versus AtnasAtnas the bad, mysterious, sly
Travels the world on his sleigh in the sky.
Santa's old friend, now inglorious foe,
This age old story is something to know:
They started out well, as partners in crime
Until one Christmas when Atnas got time.

Santa and Atnas were felons you see,
They robbed, plundered, stole - things so dastardly.
The plans were devised and thought out by Old Nick
As getaway driver he drove oh so quick.
The strong and fit Atnas brought life to the schemes,
And there was the set up of our daring team.

Their usual targets were the rich, banks and stores,
"We have little money, you won't miss some of yours"
This was

Christmas DollIridescent pearls slid along
silken strands of ebony lock
Garland and feathers enhancing
The fragrance of pine encrusted misery
A young girl sits, back arched,
Hands clasped, nails preened
Christmas ruffles and bows
Encompass her small form -
A merry little doll of seasonal fluff
Her eyes, limp, with sullen pout
Her smile a painted decoy
Santa looks down at the child,
"and what would you like for Christmas?"
The camera flashes; her eyes glinting -
A seeming merry sparkle.
She just asks for the picture.

why i'm scared of ghostsdear ghost of christmas past,
it's christmastime.  christmas eve, to be exact.  i can't look outside without seeing the shimmer of the snow, like tiny fireflies etched into each flake.  glistening strands of colorful bulbs christen the neighborhood, like they're declaring us worthy of a little light.
i'm shivering like i got caught in a snow bank, and i'm blinking like i'm hoping my eyelashes will tangle together and pull my lids closed.
i was wondering; if dreams are so pretty, why do they shatter like sherry glasses against tile as soon as we open our eyes?  maybe they aren'

Holiday TableauCrushed tinsel, sunken
spirits littering
the melancholy
atmosphere of the
holiday after-
glow - It does not shine.

Torn garland, empty
bottles strewn across
abandoned party
rooms, reminiscent
of the previous
night's festivities.

Colorful wrappings,
packaging tape, bags
stuffed with boxes and
tissue paper - trash.
Re-gifted rejects
left behind, thoughtless.

Filled coffee cups the
morning after - warmth
to replace fading
cheer. Resolutions
revised, for the fast
approaching new year.

The Thin HoursI.

Those of us here in this skeleton time,
this time of the year when the nights are thin
and dark, and dark with anxiety, peeling
as layers of an oyster shell, brittle and effaced
and somehow iridescent.
When the bell tolls out the time the sound is thin
and reaches into fractured air and softly
seeks the spaces between the atoms and
misses the vital Os and CO2s in a lasting,
failed pinball. The bell sound dies in
some space between midnight and thereafter,
and each tock tock of slipping cogs is
a repeat and not a moving on.
The air is filled with each dull sound,
each tock a repeat and a repeat again. And the
slip betwee

we should celebratei.
i tried to think of pain as a flower,
first it blossoms

  and then

  it wilts away.

but i won't let myself disappear
along with it,

i won't
give you that.

(it's not the agony that makes
me scream, it's the flavor).

ii.
and you whispered softly
"i'll rip your heart out and replace it

with a song,

it's christmas soon, and
we should celebrate".

  you've always used my scars
  as a calendar,

  as a way to remind yourself

  "today is tuesday

  and i still exist".

iii.
(it's morning now because
i can see
the sunlight

through my eyelids

and imagine

Phantoms Of Another UniverseLook.
I'll tell it like it was.

black.
cold.
wretched.

Static clung to the air
like ornaments on a Christmas tree
and we were graced with the odd arced lightning.

Oh, it was cold.
so cold.
I remember not seeing,
my fingers frozen off as
feeling receded from them
like waves on a beach.
how could I even be sure
they were.
still.
there?

the forgotten memory of a sunset
lay imprinted on my brain,
and its absence made the night
emptier than ever.

we waited.

we waited for the moon to rise,
for the clouds to shift,
for the e-lec-tri-ci-ty to stop
(like lost travelers stumbling
in the desert waiting for an
oasis mir

EnoughI'm holding on to secrets so tightly my hands start to burn.

Winter has come full-force, wind sending the windows quivering against their panes and snow blanketing the Earth in an ivory sheen. We're all bundled up inside, pressed together for warmth to maybe give a bit of it to the not-still-living locked up in a metallic casket no bigger than a shoe box. The mix of flowers –yellow roses, her favorite– and the musty smell of the funeral home permeates everything, makes my nose crinkle up and eyes sting, spilling over with tears.

The sea of nameless, faceless acquaintances part as I walk forward, cold hands on my back and muted, g

Stories From the Psych Ward (2 of 3)I'm so cold I feel it down to the bones,
sitting in the dining hall trembling
over my cup of tea. A huge Christmas
tree twinkles merrily beside me in red, blue, silver, pink and gold.
Patients huddle together outside to talk,
but I'm forbidden to join them,
trapped inside the ward on a category four.
They're all strangers to me, I've spoken to no one.
Smoking their cigarettes in faded pajamas,
looking tired and worn down,
lips twisting into smiles as the smoke
curls down into their lungs.

Nurses find me hiding from evil spirits in the cupboard.
They let me stay inside, safe until the panic stops and
the shadows disa

Sojourner III.

The icicle crests of pine-needle tiaras
Had settled onto the crisp craniums of pale
Rouge and foundation-frosted pinecones.
The multi-faceted snow-tipped noses were open
To the hushed aria of breathing with undertones
Of whispers suggesting: sway… shatter.

He registered ashen snow and Fibonacci sequences
In the scales of the pinecone, in the evergreen
Needles, and in the steadily increasing flurries.

At a stalemate for minutes past dusk and hours
Until dawn, the evening's lunar fluorescence had
Peaked in reflective moonlight and begun to dim.

Skyward flurries took of frost as he overtook
Diminishing footprints; the soil

FrostbittenWinter is her favorite time of the year.

It's beautiful. Silver and blue dance around with one another in a waltz of freezing passion as snow and ice douse the land in a blanket of boreal glamour. Glass windowpanes become easels for falling snowflakes, frost etching into the smooth surfaces in intricate and unique patterns.

Winter has always been her favorite time of the year, and it always will be.

It is not because of Christmas--no, even though she loves the holiday, it is not what sparks her strong fondness for the star-colored blanketing across the land. Her infatuation with the snow and ice and everything cold has to do with something :thumb214099159:

The Angeli am no winter.

~

walking behind tombstones
so i can't see the names

i try remembering
this place
from before.

~

someone indebted to me stands on the far side of the water.
i watch them as they lift their hand to me, then turn away.
they no longer owe me anything.

~

i trace in blue
a white seashell.

~

to look at myself
i must look down.

i am a notion
inside myself.

after a few years
i look back up.

~

the river floods every spring,
the water doing the impossible, taking every path
at once.

~

the wind flattens my clothes against me.
emptiness comes and pulls away.

~

too intelligible
to merely exist

we have our own

FrostWhich of these may kill me first,
pure madness, or this thirst...

My soul can't thrive without your word
say something--scream--if you are spurred
send message through a little bird

Without you I am cursed.

-

I was immortal in your glow,
so empty as I watched you go...

If I said nothing, is it real
I'll never know just how you feel
your silent will, like hardened steel

Unworthy, I won't know.

-

Do you ever think of me
close your eyes, what do you see...

If you say nothing, is it lost
beyond your window was it tossed
in pain, on pane, both wear frost

What dreams may bring to thee.

-

Fluttered thoughts may you retrieve
per

Winter's SongMy grandmother used to tell me that on a clear summers day you could find the colour of everyone's eyes in the surroundings. I could never find the colour of mine, on those beautiful days where the sun spun my hair into gold and the wind tickled my cheeks. I could never find the exact shade, but I didn't tell her.

At dusk today I found the exact colour in the sky. I have winter song eyes. They are the colour of the sky when the birds have sung their last note and tiny snowflakes have just begun to fall. Snowflakes so small that you can never catch any; if you did I'm sure they would taste of magic. Maybe winter songs only come along on

DecemberMy hands are
black with soot
and shiny with grease;
the embers lie low.

The air grew teeth.
We sit alone
in our separate dreams
and entertain the shade
of what was lost.
Our fingers will twitch
with phantom pain-
our mouths will run dry.

Everything I am,
outweighed, overcome
by a fistful of
words with teeth;
as heavy as gold,
as poison as lead,
and I can't write poetry
because I said I would
leave you alone
and you never leave the lines-
you are there between them,
every one.

WinteringIt's a canvas of mouthings,
of open throats, that wave of grey.
Storm clouds pass like sails torn,
loosing their limbs to the wind
with each stroke of the brush.
There's a symphony in the rush
of them, howling their wolfcry, O -
breathings holes into the fabric,
Lethe leaving their lungs. And low,
tugging at the hymns that line the sky,
the moon, sister of a stone,
rises, rises with her hood of bone.

ghostin cold air
breath lingers
like a ghost

AirYou do not have to be empty.
Go, now, to the high places, the thin spires
of mountains and skyscrapers
the roof of your house, tipped with snow,
and fill yourself up with the air.
Drink it in, taste it, roll it around
on your tongue, feel it settle
in the caverns of your lungs. Feel the dust
and the ice crystals and the scraps of newspaper
brush your lips, and fill yourself with them, too.
Fill yourself up with the moonlight, the frost,
the dusky rose of the rising sun,
the night, the morning, the calls of birds,
the sillhouettes of telephone poles,
the shadows of people and clouds and alley cats
that dance across the pave

l'hiver.(you can't tell the birds and the snow apart in the sky:
the grand church of dizzying space - )

and the trees are yellowed in cowardice, raking the sky
to the ground and around and around.

listen to your organs: the almost grand piano of the
churches i'd never attend.

and never mistake the courage of the sky for the cowardice
of the ground. never frown, never frown.

listen to your palms: the salty swing of the old snow
burning up on silk and splendor.

and visit the dying snow birds in their graves of the
ground, and they drown and drown.

(you can't tell the birds and the snow apart in the sky:
a grand church of dizzying space w

the promises of winteri will wear gloves from
now until march. this is something
i decided last year and i am
determined to stick to it.
if there is anything to which i will
adhere, any self-set rule i will follow,
this will be it. and i will
know myself better for it.

when i am handed a
hot white mug of peppermint tea
i will not be burned because of
these gloves. and when there is
snow all over the place, when the
streetlamps are cold with it,
my hands will be
ecstatic with heat.

my only fear is the wearing-out
of fabric. my hands are put to
good use every day and i can see this
becoming a kind of problem. i will
have to guard my hands

immortaland i used to lie beneath the winter's still morning,
watching the cornflower-blue gently bleed through cloud.
there's something that glistens in your eye, so subtle
but i don't want another lover, don't let me take your hand.

and i used to need you always, my lover, oh butterfly
flutter by me so softly, like silken stolen kisses
we used to hold hands by midnight candlelight but now,
i wish you would not return, for i will not survive you.

there is something secret and untouched in your story
something that stones will turn their heads to listen for;
you were the beauty ground up into dust, darling-wilde,
and i don't want you to be

Radioactive Snowflakes Oh boy, boy, boy
For the last shall be,
and that arctic disposition will melt away in time
written on a hearth rug, read it and then
turn the dial back and tune into Goodbye FM

"Oh boy, boy, boy
Goldilocks should have been clad in HazMat,
bear in mind the Gouda enacts the rat trap"

For the last shall be,
when fractals free fall from the sky
thickening icycle eyes, cementing prisms with time
...and I
measured it all in half-life

Oh boy, boy boy
That arctic disposition will melt away in

-My Song-At this, my most precious hour, I am the one who moves
February breathes a morning sigh over the sleeping streets
As my footsteps echo through the loneliness, and splash softly through puddles
Tracing the slow moving constellations with my fingertip
I'll sing for you
Though my voice cracks on difficult notes
I keep singing for my love who has no love
Because tears don't suit me, I will not cry for you
My song is a melancholy melody
Floating though the darkness of this town on a hill

At this, my most precious hour, I am the one with a pulse
A racing pulse pounding through my body like lightning
Beyond pain, beyond the anger a

Memoir Of A Summer GirlI've been called an ice princess.
A frigid queen that couldn't shake the icicles dangling from her heart or even melt the first crust of snowy powder along these veins long enough to feel something... anything at all.
And every time someone would say these things to me I would smile sweetly, numbly because I couldn't feel.
But yet, their eyes dance over my breasts as if to a staccato tune only they can hear, and their tongue wets their lips as if tequila were thrust in front of a recovering alcoholic that is still thirsty.
Again I tilt my head and smile, unfeeling, knowing their eyes are burning holes into my skin.
The seams of my clothi

December RainDecember Rain

1.
So it was the end of December.
There was a steady rain touching the peaks
of our eyes' tiniest lashes
to shroud them in cracked drops
that would ice over as your breath did.
(why was it so cold?)
It was to make them as strong as steel,
though they crumbled like dust, nearly
collapsing from the wind flurrying around.
(I could trace it from the rain and
carcasses of leaves that stuck to its sound)
And each and every note that left your pharynx
was the color of a dead blue, blending in
so it was invisible under all the noise in the background.

2.
And I stood, waiting for the time your mouth would just stop and

FrostI am devouring chaos,
chasing it down with winter's chill.
Spare me your fingerprints,
summer's lovechild. Those knowing owl eyes
have me second guessing the wild churning
in my bones. You are the sleep that sweeps
my eyelashes, drowning me in my own daydreams.

When was it...
that you plastered yourself to my ribcage?

Th' Braw MountainsCome to the wild places, the high and lonely places.

Inhale beauty, in the form of icicle air and pine dust.
Touch it, the cold mountain soil, and rejoice.
Let the wind fill you and find the point inside all of us,
Where you reach out over the forest,
And fly without leaving the ground.
Sure and proud, like the eagles around you.

Let your hair lift and whip, flushing your cheeks
And awakening your bones. Spin at the peak of mountains,
Glorying in the cold clean height. Laugh for it.

And when you are tired from the air,
Come and rest on the rough hills, amongst the brown and gold gorse
And feel sunlight thaw the wind-seeds. Wat

thawingmy love,
i swear, there is a ghost beneath my bones.
she slides around the rungs of my ribs, gentle like a lover's hands but cold, so unlike yours. i lay in bed at night, days after you have gone, your jacket and seven blankets struggling to keep me warm -but her arctic touch seeps deeper, slides its way past my lips and settles in places i swore only you could touch. and i am left gasping, arching, desperate for a body one hundred and thirty eight miles away, a voice that doesn't seem nearly as warm after traveling through the airwaves, a spring that only exists in your arms.
because i miss laughter, i miss your eyes, i miss the feeling of thawing after forty days in the tundra of my own heart, and two in yours.

Winter Visual Inspiration:

:thumb285923984:

Now go and get creating!

The

Team:

P.S. YES there will be new features and polls published soon! So keep submitting to the Featured Folder all you like! As always, if you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask!

83 Comments

Skin by `Infinite705

Winter Alliance Contest!by =LadyofGaerdon

Journals / Culture / Contests

#Lit-Visual-Alliance announces their Winter Contest.

love 1 1

joy 1 1

~~wow 0 0~~

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

~elena-landry 4 days ago Hobbyist Writer

say whah now? A lit contest? [link]
count me in!

=Ambiguous-Catharsis Apr 19, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

When are the results coming out?

*Eltasia Mar 30, 2013

Thanks so much for including me in your amazing feature!

`mirz-alt Mar 1, 2013 General Artist

I found huge inspiration in this picture ---> [link] Unfortunately, I won't have it done in time. But I'm entering another contest with this piece. Thanks so much for the challenge and inspiration.

*Rainyhawaii Feb 14, 2013

How many times can I enter a submission?

=LadyofGaerdon Feb 19, 2013 Professional Writer

Submissions are unlimited.

~AeternusVotum Feb 12, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

Wait ... wait, what?

How come that I have missed the winter's contest until now?
Oh gosh, I hope I will find the time! >o<

=LadyofGaerdon Feb 12, 2013 Professional Writer

I'm sorry! I should be posting more reminders, perhaps..

You've still got some time!

~AeternusVotum Feb 13, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

Haha, no, don't worry ... normally I would put journals like this into an extra folder of mine but I seem to have overlooked this one

Anyway, I hope that I will be able to participate, too >w< We'll see

~Selimeia Jan 28, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

Does the inspiration piece need to be one from this journal or can I take it from anywhere?

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