As the title suggests, this news article series aim to promote wonderful aspects of the deviantART community, from showcasing beautiful works of art, to informing you of great groups, and to interviewing inspirational deviants. I feel so happy being part of such a wonderful community and I hope to make it better, even if it's only a little bit, by making these articles. My goal is to bring to light everything that impassions me and, hopefully, inspire you!
A showcase of art that has simply left me speechless from all genres, from digital/traditional, artisan, emoticons, fractals, etc.
A showcase of photographs that have left me in awe from all genres, from nature, macro, fashion, conceptual, abstract, etc.
A showcase of literature that has motivated & moved me from all genres, from prose, poetry, flash fiction, short stores, etc.
Fairies: A VillanelleFind if you can the land where fairies dwell
What a sight to see the ethereal
To plop on lily pads, dream on bluebells
Magic and mischief are what they impel
Periwinkle eyes and lips of coral
Find if you can the land where fairies dwell
Cold iron they fear, their charms it expels
Pay'em in cream and butter, their ideal
To plop on lily pads, dream on bluebells
Through changeling babies our homes they indwell
For they are creatures so fantastical
Find if you can the land where fairies dwell
Butterfly-winged as the legends foretell
Fairies live to serve the queen imperial
To plop on lily pads, dream on bluebells
If just to fool lovers with fairy spells
Our murderous thoughtsAre you coming to the tree?
Leaves whispered as cicadas
threaded through its boughs;
a spidery lace
entangling the passionate.
Where they strung up a man
heartstrings exposed and cutting
a bleeding grief within his love
to flower for centuries to come
as old wives' tales.
Strange things have happened here,
its smoothed skin deceptive
where death pulses as a heartbeat,
a macabre dance of shadows
where his beloved never came.
If they met up at midnight
arms dangling as a willow's
as ivory streamers,
would her song join his
raised upon the air currents?
oiseaux oedipaemiadon't open your eyes, okay?
this is the difference between sick and saved.
the walls are pearled, and i am one shade of white,
wearing scarves made of washcloth and paper.
my eyelids are tiny butterflies,
quick, pale, and new. i see things
that evaporate as soon as i recognise them:
jaguars prowling from the depths of the water,
climbing from the drain with dripping pelts.
their spines ripple,
shoulderblades sinking and rising
like gentle breath, like sad sunsets.
when they look to me, i become one of them,
i breathe in as they do, taking in a breath laden
with a peculiar guilt that threatens to never leave.
they look at me, and their eyes catch my skin on fire.
i watch as they evanesce, swift and quiet, taking my heart with them.
words have gone stale in me and the taste
is never leaving my mouth.
the cadence of nightmares goes as steady
as the slow ruptu
The sun shines so beautifully this time of year.
To feel the warmth, to see the brightness reflecting
Off everything; the serene water, still icy even in this heat;
The leaves, green as they always are.
The beauty alone is enough to make anyone smile
But there's always more to it, more to the beauty of it all.
This is the time of year when people gather together,
All singing the same tune, dancing to the same song.
They can feel it. It reverberates throughout the crowds,
All the happiness, the joy, the fulfillment.
The one time of year when everyone comes together,
Brought out by the sun. Beaming in its image.
It's the beauty that brings them.
Yet, as I watch all the joy, I can't help but wonder,
Question their thoughts, their antics.
The sun is shining so beautifully, yet I am locked inside.
I feel that comforting heat, but I cannot react.
I sit. I watch. I wonder.
What is it like, coming together like that?
Is it as glorious as it looks, as wonderful as it seems?
Two sisters sat on the edge of a cliff
and one was old, and one was young
and their mother was not yet born.
They watched the sea below their feet.
The waves chewed at the rocks
as they had built the cliff through ages,
and green weeds flowed with the tide
like the sisters' hair on the wind.
The sisters sat for many hours,
their fingers twined with strands of yellow grass,
their eyes like chips of ocean glass,
fixed on the far horizon.
Without a word, they sang to each other
and rivalled and warred in silence
as siblings do
without a real reason to fight.
And the grass became a violin
beneath the elder's hands.
Her pizzicato challenge lost itself
somewhere between Dover and Calais.
The younger never heard it,
trapped as she was in a book
of her own invention
with half a reality against its spine.
So they stayed, forevers in the hours,
inside an opal fog, so thick they could see everything
except one another,
but no eyes were needed for that.
Two sisters sat on the edge of a
There Are Always AlternativesI looked up the synonyms -
pang, throb, anguish, misery
none quite adequate
affliction is closer, better defined
providing shape to the problem
psychologists don't want to solve
because, as popular opinion holds,
grief is precious, makes us human
and we can't dull it away
can't forget to mark the movement of planets
in a universe lacking pertinence,
can't smash all the clocks to avoid
that truculent ticking
no, the psychologists say,
we must suffer through it
must bear the herculean weight
with neither pills nor promise of relief
so we seek comfort in Johnny
or Jack or José, sometimes
a Captain named Morgan
we substitute addiction for attachment
and defy any to rectify the error
and when it comes again
there's the thesaurus to offer
alternative avenues of address
for the deep and abiding ache.
The Weary Traveler and the Girl Who Fell.A study in grief and unity.
Opening the door I found the monster I had drawn pictures of in my mind, but he had quite a bigger jaw than I had imagined.
They call this a processa journeyand say that there will be missteps and stumbles along the way, but I feel I might have to claw my way across the ground before I can even hope to have missteps. They don't tell you that there's a good chance you'll fall right out of the starting gate, and the soil in your mouth tastes gritty and bitter. Bruised knees. Bloodied elbows. Breathe the scent of earth and lie there, hoping to God that someone comes back and realizes you're not moving along. It rains. It's cold. Trying, trying to get some strength to pick myself up off the ground, but everything hurts and it's so cold and I want to go home. Home is with you, but you're not here.
And as I lie there, eyes closed and mind tired, I hear cautious footsteps. A gentle hand on my back and the soft whisper of, "It's okay." An understa
The New Justice James forgot the milk again.
This was nothing new. In fact, he regularly forgot things: his wallet, the milk, he'd even forgotten their marriage license on that magical day some twelve years prior. On any other day, Angela might have laughed it off before slipping on her shoes and heading to the stores. Today it made her furious. She watched, her lips pressed into a hard, thin line as he trudged for there was no other word that could describe the slow, stoop-shouldered stride up the walkway. Leaning back against the counter, she folded her arms as he entered the house. He jerked to a stop as he surveyed the unusually spotless state of their home. It was clear to him, with the certainty that only twelve years of constant companionship can give, that he was in trouble. It was also clear to him that it was far too late to he
Alexander the GreatThis sea's arms are not enough alone,
spread wide and wider, spanning out
beyond my reach, to that western
edge where men go to their ends. I,
left the familiar world in my left hand,
not old nor bold enough to challenge
the killing sea I know, am quiet, pensive.
Met by red earth, led by bright star, the child
Apollo rising bright and red, alive, each day
I wake, pensive, quiet. To find that place,
the spring of life from which Apollo leaps,
that is my goal. Guided by the free
right hand, I will charge east, ever on
until I find that eternal ocean, the counter
to this infinite sea of end belonging
to my father, his forefathers, and the dying
world in my left hand. I shall become
the red sun child, always bright, alive.
My Journey To HimClocks tick away, resounding chimes
Tick, tock, as I cross the bridge over a
Pitch black river, the moonlight reflecting
In my face, and at the end, is a monster
It stares at me with its deep blood red eyes
Its nostrils flaring as it anxiously awaits
My arrival, but on the other side of the bridge,
There is a ledge off a frothy waterfall , I can dive into
But I walk towards the monster, I feel its fur
Baby soft, but strong
I jump on it, as I ride it in the dark forest
Riding it as it carries me where it wants to take me
The clock tick-tocks away, as I ride fast , in the dark oblivion
Behind me the world crumbles, disappearing
I ride onwards
I can see a light, it gets brighter, the monster
Then takes a giant leap into a field of just grass
The monster perishes in the light, I drop
To the ground with a thud
But it's a soft fall
I look around me, mountains in the far distance
The dark forest behind me, and all I hear are their branches
I start walking fo
ash wounds like airi have done it yet again.
these dark eye pits -
why won't they speak and be free?
once in every fifteen empty dawns
do my hands cease to claw at each other:
a glimmering hiatus;
a half breath.
i have fire hair and
i have eaten a beautiful man's jasper love.
silence never settles;
round and round goes the chained-up mind
as i grow into fear forever.
the nights smell of dying poppies. think
of such a poppy field - the beauty of
lying and effortlessly
the only living one.
eyes are no windows. they are your reflection.
do not walk, do not walk;
see your own flesh in there? yes, stay still.
remove my clothes.
what are you afraid of?
i am mouldering in the sweltering being of
digits and hands and
glistening eyelets in stainless steel;
i am harmless.
the first time was tentative:
if i ignore my heart, will i be safe?
two. i needed to
see life run.
now three, four, fivesixseveneighthundreds; they are all accidents:
i awake and i itch; i am afraid
i have sinned again.
try to save me a
Black MarauderHe is your every
thing, is he not? Crystal
ball eyes, undertow hands,
heartbeat louder than
a bomb. Sinbad smile. He is
your sin; bad, is it
not? He is across
the seven seas. Beetle-bright,
bottle-shined, the waves
ready to swallow
you. Black marauder, ink and
scars, let him plunder
treasure, not trinkets
in your chest. No shipwrecks now;
not tonight, drunk off
the moonshine. No skull
and crossbones on a platter.
They are not served here.
Let the Sparrows InI.
Blackbirds rest on the power lines,
their silhouettes form the notation
to a dawn song set on the sheet music
of telephone poles contrasted by the sun.
Curled leaves are land mines littered
on the lawn where imprints of twigs
and a nurturing robin's tracks collect.
Branchlets and leaflets stem from
porch step railings and mailboxes;
the numbers read odd on the east,
even on the west side of the asphalt:
The engraved letters on
the siding reads, "Davis."
This house is home to family
so let the sparrows in.
with its branching hallways
furniture rooted to the floor
family, friends, the occasional
out from home.
Let the sparrows in; let
Let the door's
loosen—let the door stand ajar
be let open
the night owls and
let the doves
in pairs in the iridescent
Let the sparrows in.
Framed on either side
This section has been taken over by StaffAppreciation!
The #StaffAppreciation Idea Contest! Win points!Please add this article to your favorites and spread the word!
dASAW-Points | StaffAppreciation | :#staffappreciation:
This contest is now closed. Thanks to the participants!
StaffAppreciation is happy to announce the first deviantART Staff Appreciation Week-related contest of 2012!
The deviantART Staff Appreciation Week (dASAW) kicked off with a bang in its first year (2011) and the response was overwhelming. Our goal is to promote positive community relations between deviants. We do this by creating relationships between the staff and the community, and by showing the staff that we really do appreciate all of their hard work! Anyone can participate in our events and contests!
This contest is a little different from normal because the dASAW hasn't begun yet! For this, anyone can enter, and this is the theme: submit your ideas for a great dA
A selection of DDs I have suggested this month and any that have been accepted.
Here I will interview an inspirational deviant I have picked or one suggested to me.
The story behind my username is probably a bit boring, it's simply the name of my website. But coming up with the name for my website which then became my username was a bit of a pain, I'd been wanting to get back to my spiritual roots again and wanted the name to reflect that. After much debate and a few days of back and forth I settled with Astralseed which couldn't have been more fitting.
I've always been pretty bad at answering this question so just bear with me here.. I'm a mother of two. I live in Wisconsin even though my page says Antarctica (never believe everything you read on the internet). On dA I am a chat and forum community volunteer and I have recently also started helping out in the traditional art gallery as well.
Quite some years ago I joined Elfwood and while that was all great and good the submission process there was very slow as it sometimes took up to 2 months to have your art approved. There were a handful of people whos art I followed over there who were members of deviantART so one day I decided to come check it out in hopes that submissions wouldn't take forever here too. Once I joined I fell in love!
I tend to dabble in a lot of areas artistically. Essentially, if I can get my hands on something, I want to try it and if it's art related I usually enjoy it so I end up spending more time in that medium/media at one point or another. I'd consider myself quite diverse but with no specific specialty.
`ShePaintsWithBlood has always been a great inspiration to me.
The community hands down! Time and time again I've watched the community pull together to help each other out and it's simply a beautiful sight to see.
It varies from situation to situation, sometimes it hits me just from hearing something someone says in passing, other times nature can be very inspiring to me.
By trying new things or things which are out of my comfort zone.
Try new things!
Thank you for taking the time to read this article!
Please make sure to the article to help spread the DA love
If you have any art/groups you would like me to showcase or a deviant you would like to be interviewed, please note me. Or, leave a comment with your suggestions in this journal, Suggestions for Interviews & Spotlight Artist. Thank you!