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on the wings of dandelions
I -don't- understand
I suppose you could say that it's my most recent semi-decent piece...critique?  |
Traditional Work
Newest
Fifth Runs Away: An Untold...I am small and round but I am not sand. With no arms and no hands, I do not know hours but I know that I am worn out from too much work, from working all days of all months, no stops, no holidays, no vacations.Fifth Runs Away: An Untold...
My siblings do not know who I am, nor do my guardians. I know only what I am not: I am not an author sharing vivid thoughts and lucid visions, I am not a musician spinning vibrations into colors and faith, I am not an artist painting morning suns and night moons and always winds.
I do not know what I am, so I run. I run away, far from familiar surroundings of words and consonants. I run from diacritics and pun
by =ColonelFitz
strains, stains and solitudei. faded soles glide along a menagerie of blank tiles quiet footsteps reverberate down whitewashed halls subtle percussion weaves into melodic minor strains from wooden instruments so old and cracked their names have been forgottenstrains, stains and solitude
ii. dirty canvas stained by mud & rain sharpie & sun spills faith, hope and love to bleached concrete whispers knowledge and freedom to a lone bee not buzzing but sleeping in freshly cut grass shoes patter through puddles and colors return to earth and sky &nbs
by =ColonelFitz
nighttime in Julyi. south winds blow through trees whisper of tides and oceans speak in memorynighttime in July
ii. cloudless sky not clear but painted pink and orange smog and CO2
iii. against inky sky a star peeks out from old leaves only an airplane
iv. two teenagers laugh roll down a hill of night-stained grass bats dance overhead
v. strobe lights like old film fire alarm unheard through glass no one is rushing
vi. sharing heat with earth bodies together, hands held sprinklers start to rain
by =ColonelFitz
fragments of a dream5 a.m. sunlight – glittering over waves and creeping up the beach, warming the wet sand between your smiling toesfragments of a dream
tiny faces painted in cheap nail polish bobbing up and down to the latest craze drifting down the hall from your older sister’s radio
a curious black box, spitting words and notes out the second-story window onto the wet pavement where the old dumpster sits, waiting, paint-chipping, mouth open
tongue out, scales like a thousand prisms refracting the day into little rainbows, y
by =ColonelFitz
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deviantID
 For some reason I'm really in the mood to do some sort of literary collaboration. Note me if you're interested!Hello, cyber-world. My name is Joan and contrary to common belief, I am distinctly female and in high school. I ask a lot of questions. Awkward questions at awkward times, but then I guess that's just how the cookie crumbles, isn't it? Also, I often use awkward nonsensical metaphors. I mean, isn't that what defines a poet? I actually first came onto deviantART for drawing purposes (graphite/realism/portraiture) but switched over to mainly literature somewhere along the line. Anyways, I don't think you really want to hear about my personal life, so I'll just stop with that. Oh, I like running (ha! random personal fact!). Find me also on/in: Livejournal last.fm Bottom of the World, Issue #3 Sparkbright, Issue #2 Contact Information Email: questionable.insanity@gmail.com AIM: kerneloffitz Skype: QuestionableInsanity Projects I am an admin for =DailyLitDeviations, which is a project that gives the authors and the literary arts more exposure around dA. Feel free to note me with suggestions. Also, check out:       And chatrooms: :#literazzi: :#wlc: :#distinct: :#litshare: Recommended Artists Literary Arts             Visual Arts               |
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Got your letter - soon I will be all about making my reply!
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Nothing but the rain ...
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I'm a poetry admin for *DailyLitDeviations. Gently drop me a poem or two (don't want any breakage)!
Stripping-I-mean-flashing since January 2009.
#FlashLit Five-minute doses of pure awesome.
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A poem is a naked person... Some people say that I am a poet.
Bob Dylan
Concealed Artistry: [link]
Recieve quality feeback on poetry: [link]
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It's raining men? Shit, I'm gonna need a better umbrella...
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Smelling of semen all under the garden was all
you were needing when you still believed in me.
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I need you like dragonfly wings need the wind...I need you here like you've always been.
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-- Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. -- Robert Frost
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oh my... it seems the clouds made a mistake again...
excuse me?? could you turn this rain off?? it's only falling on me again!!
sorry, ma'am! looks like you're gonna have to stick to dreary for the rest of ur life!
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