Literature Roadtrip: Day 3

Jan 12, 201410 min read

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Published: Jan 12, 2014

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Literatureroadtrip by imaginative-lioness

Well, Literature Roadtrip Day 3 has ended and it was definitely an amazing trip. I have to say, this roadtrip has only reinforced the fact that there are so many talented writers on deviantART.

ReiReiSerenade

The beautiful pieces of literature in this talented deviant's gallery will amaze you, and you will continue going back for more because the work is incredibly well written.

There is a Mermaid Inside of MeThere is a part of me
That has ceaselessly wandered, like a solitary cloud,
Yearning to defy,
Suffering silently,
Dreaming of impossibilities and foolish things.
Her notions were naive and ridiculous,
Yet somehow understated
And they sparked awareness in me.
On the surface,
I am content with my life.
Deep down,
I feel like a square block being forced into a hole.
I don’t belong to this world presented to me
Though perhaps that’s just my bad judgment.
Still,
Something stirs within me,
A driving force takes hold of me.
A flood of hope fills me.
As we leap of the rough, rigid earth
And dive.
Restless and ambitious,
Serene and sincere,
A mermaid resides within me.
Oh how she desires to break her shackles,
She believes there is more than what the world has given us.
She implants a prevailing sense of expectation.
Do I dare wade in the shallow water?
My heart beats rapidly,
Blood pounds in my ears
As I contravene,
And break the surface.
I face my comprehension,
Embracing the rush PulseNumb,
Cold to the core.
Never really feeling
Or wanting.
Too stiff to ever bound across a meadow,
Too dead to ever want to.
Only ever wallowing in the cruel reality,
As if frozen in time
Without a hope.
The harsh wind slaps you across the face.
Glassy eyes cry without even feeling sad,
The cold nips the nose red.
It hurts too much
To look up
And try to find the sun
That left so long ago.
Suddenly,
The ice encrusting the world in a cold prison melts,
And your cheeks flush and warmth floods you.
A blanket acts as a shield.
The coldness has left.
It's strange to remember now
How it felt to feel.
Enveloped in warmth,
The world comes alive.
The color, once drained from the flowers,
Paints the landscape
Hues of crimson and violet.
Everything has a heartbeat,
Everything has a pulse.
Warmth radiates from a world
Once so dark and desolate.
No one knew
That underneath the coldness
Was life
Still worth living.
So look up,
Because
The sun is smiling down upon you. Self-DestructionWith a sudden jolt,
I am ripped from my fantasy.
I have come to know happiness
As a fleeting thing.
It slips away once more.
The heavens come crashing down all around me.
I raise up my hands futilely in defense,
I take the blow.
From there
It escalates.
I take no shelter from the storm waging within.
I cry tears of embarrassment
Shame
Fear
I stare down meekly
Not knowing what I'm apologizing for.
The earth beneath my feet
Begins to shake
Like a dramatic crescendo,
My emotions spike
And daggers pierce me.
A scarred and beaten core
Endures each and every blow,
Not knowing what it did
To deserve such abuse.
I tremble
And I am filled
With all the hate of hell.
I can't find any trace of warmth
In the human heart,
Mine especially.
I am scorched by a conflagration
Of words.
They engulf me
And destroy every trace of peace that I tried to cling to.
This storm,
This feeling,
Makes no sound.
The world takes no heed
Of the destruction within me.
I am felt to endure it alone
And I sit here silently WhispersThey echo off the walls,
Resounding in my head,
Haunting my thoughts,
And tearing my dreams apart.
The point out my faults and failures,
Making apparent my flaws.
I'm immersed in a sea of hatred,
And an abyss full of glares.
Misery casts its shadow across the room,
Refusing to refrain its lurking.
It is nourished by the pure disgust,
Vile cruelty,
And utter hatred.
It resides here
Always
By my side.
Soon, my heart swells,
But not with eternal love,
But with hatred.
The whispers cease,
And they transform into screams.
The blood is pounding between my ears,
And I let out a piercing scream
That shatters the rest.
Words hurt me no longer,
I return the glares with a grin,
For when I turn The Flower Who Ran A quiet and serene awakening happened all at once. One moment, my world was desolate and empty; the next, my world was transformed into a bright and vast landscape. Waves of the feeling of joy seemed to radiate from the earth. I had come so far from being all alone to being surrounded by solace and others just like me.
This world, however ideal it seemed to be, did not revolve around me. This place wasn't created or staged for me-I discovered that one day.
As my kin and I were contently swaying in the gentle summer breeze, a silhouette of a foreign being was seen coming over the horizon. As it approached, so foreign in the way it moved, I wondered why it couldn't just reside as I in the grassy meadow. Yet, it bounded around my whole world as if it was normal. It couldn't be, though, since I haven't moved from this spot my entire life.
How strange it was while in motion. It just couldn't sit still, even to bask in the sun. But, I was surp A Photographic Dream The faded black and white photograph sits idly on the vanity. My exact likeness stares out at me from within the flowered frame. We stare at each other, admiring the intricate feature we share. She seems to understand how lucky I was to inherit such beauty from her, the ideal embodiment of femininity. A sort of arrogance glints in her eyes; her plump lips seem to smirk. Her creamy, alabaster skin glows with confident. She is aloof, to say the least. I know everything about this woman, my grandmother, as well as myself, by this photograph. I am the spitting image of her. I know that I am much more than my sorry excuse of a mother. I know that there is more to me than her. Because of my grandmother, I know that I come from more than a disrespected, cheap drunk. This photograph of my grandmother shows me everything that I could ever be.
One day, I know I will leave this place I am forced to call home. I will abandon the lower-class without a second-glance the f

Aerode

I absolutely loved reading through this wonderful deviant's work. Each time I would read a new piece I fell more in love with their beautiful and creative writing style.

Farewelli.
i'm surprised at how easily i can break you
and leave you in the wreckage of midnight
constellations and dead stars
ii.
and your shadow crosses mine
i admire your daring, although i told you
to leave me before you burn up
we've yet to lose sight, but the distance is
enough
iii.
don't forget, i'm close behind
and i'll never let you go even if the
world detonates into a stew of
disembodied dreams and starlit memories
iv.
forgive me;
i'm still learning how to love
something forbidden
take care, i'll miss you A Galaxy SighsShe exhales sky from her lungs. Solar East: PrologueThere is a void between my eyes, and in it, I dream the sunrise. I know it's time to wake. Kicking the welcoming sheets from my form, I manage to restart my morning cycle. Dress, brush my teeth, my hair, and try not to be caught.
My home is my territory, a cracked stone fortress among hundreds, thousands of pitter-patter feet that pass by without a suspicion on why someone like me couldn't find a more accommodating locale. I may be strange, but I am not unlikable. The answer is: if I leave my crumbling rock to nature and greedy others, it will die. And I will too.
But solitude gives me a reprieve.
I'm exhausted of the stereotypes, labeling and strangling me as 'different' and 'dangerous' because I have something no one else holds. I am 'creepy' because I don't speak to many others. I am 'delusional' because I can hear the ghosts wailing in your souls. I am 'psychotic' because I can unlock my mind's full potential instead of crushing it in human, confined walls others allow themselves t Apocalypsei remember when you took my hand and
slipped me into a world alone
i shake the gravity from my hair and dip
into the shadow of baking clouds and
inverted meteor showers
a creamy apricot sunset surfs over
still-silenced flesh and ~~quenches~~ quells
them before erasing them from existence
we're sunken like the houses in which we
creep, bracing the hearth against fading spirits
we're sunken but we rise against
your world is swooped into a nightshade of
woodblock and still-silence
mouths are wrenched open a maw, a void and
everything is thrown into a juggernaut of grit

tuiskulumi

Sophisticated, beautiful and well written are three ways to describe this deviant's remarkable writing style. I look forward to reading more of their work.

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Well, tomorrow is a big day! Tomorrow morning I will do a journal feature of the deviant's and then give their works some comments. So watch out for that!