|Part of an exclusive series of hand-painted hen eggs by me of my own designs that are only 2 1/2" tall.|
HaikuWriMo, February 2016Month's Theme: Fortune CookiesHaikuWriMo, February 2016 by Jade-Pandora
tread in elder's shoes
never those of your owning
grows corn on the cob
if you in turn seek
the normality of man
turn and run away
sex like Chinese food
want more after each hour—
where land used to be
the child of century storm
will lose your way home
sandals left on beach
show you coming and going
with the sandpiper
the drone of bee hives
the buzz of drones overhead
leaf blowers exalt
affairs of the heart
unwisely juggled in pairs
risk speed dial snafu
look left at billboard
contemplate Beyonce's navel
always live as if
your body is a temple—
leaves faint from their host
perishing on the way down—
be your life's host
you watch birds on windowsill
eat your plum
SUNRISE (spoken)Before the last time of my birthSUNRISE (spoken) by Jade-Pandora
And far beyond it was my first
I make a voyage most profound
Before its rudder runs aground.
Adieu skyscraper spires vast
By tall ship’s canvas-billowed mast
Across an ocean, right to find,
A life of calling, left behind.
Aligning with a northern speck
To guide me on my global trek
And kiss a rising shoreline’s day
Of star-tipped palm fronds’ thoughtful sway
Atop the arms of listing greet
My native, soulful heart, entreat.
Gentle breakers whisper, saying
Here is where I shall be staying.
And from a dream I memorize,
Trade winds singing songs of sunrise.
Sister, Sister (spoken)They say God lives within the soul,Sister, Sister (spoken) by Jade-Pandora
But must I search if that is so,
Than, within my darkness' keep
Where there is no place left to sleep.
Sister. Sister! Rain thy embrace
Around, upon this lost sinner
With tender kisses of thy grace.
Hardship: a strange land's long winter.
Slave, with color, thy mark of race;
Pass to me, thy honor, bitter.
Beasts of field, birds in skies afar
Can never take me where you are.
The summers of Hesperides are longThe summers of Hesperides are long,The summers of Hesperides are long by Jade-Pandora
for, this is my letter to the world,
that never wrote to me...
With quick wit, and impish, did easily
dissolve into gaiety amid academy peers,
from whence would deliver me into life's
cadence so passionately, this brown wren.
Are you too deeply occupied to say if
my verse is alive?
The mind is so near itself it cannot
see distinctly, and I have none to ask.
That you will not betray me it is needless
to ask, since honor is its own pawn.
Undressed thoughts that joggle the mind.
The balm and smile to rise even higher
than true, (and) to run the course through
life's preceptor, or dare hope to be,
this young spirit of a woman, yet
unclaimed, by a nation of civil war.
And yet, the long wait to obsess, this
daughter in white, unrecognized, till comes
Death, that would believe perhaps the bur
of chestnut, with eyes of neglected sherry
when guests have gone, thus to pacify the
lack of a mould to identify not earthly image
but shadow, to
ElixirThe light breath on an ear, theElixir by Jade-Pandora
stroke that leaves wetness of the
elixir from fever on an open hand,
I arch, to react without thinking,
for no thought can enter the asylum
of that which has brought me here,
where raw beast and intellect lay
side by side in an uneasy truce.
You have provided me sustenance
and now, resting even as we remain
near each other, I hear your breath.
But no, not just near—
We are where illness is banished,
ministration of the carnal is law,
so shall we ever be— obedient!
Electriche turnsElectric by Jade-Pandora
a lightning rod
my close proximity
from the warm air
that clouds in
send licks of light
all the hair
on his body
Resonateeven unseen-Resonate by Jade-Pandora
he touched my eyes,
burning his image
upon the retinas
a slow animation-
ceiling light on his skin
making fuzzy halos
on the edge of his limbs
the canals of my ears
with his melody
rapid breath synced
with desperate whimpers
by a throaty chuckle
every cell of my body
into a whole other being
synaptic sparks of my brain-
of migrating birds
I am helpless to reverse
nor would I try if I could,
it's the way it is
how I drift day-to-day
living beyond consciousness-
having changed him as much
as he has me
TapestryThe morning is a tapestry...Tapestry by Scarlettletters
tripping over last night's grace,
I watch you weave your skin
and shake out your hair -
soft teal and jonquil
shadowing your cheek
as the curtains part between your hands.
Threads tangle as you turn,
dawn is a gentle lover,
and the tumble of birds
plaiting their soft notes
lingers on the pillows
where your smile is my undoing.
Perspectiveblank sheet of paperPerspective by RobCarriere
desolate plain in the night
empty as the void
unless heard in the distance
sounds of footsteps approaching
Awesome, Literally! Vol 3: The Ladies of LitWhat is this thing?Awesome, Literally! Vol 3: The Ladies of Lit by LiliWrites
There are tons of groups and projects in the literature community on DeviantArt, and they are all awesome, literally! (Get it? ) This article series is aimed at spotlighting groups or projects that have been part of the foundation of the literature community. They create content, promote writing, engage in conversation, and generally get people excited about literature. This is our way of saying thanks and getting new people involved!
How does it work?
The second Friday of every month, a new blog will be posted to CRLiterature that highlights a different group or project in the community. The blog will have a link to a forum discussion where you can ask the group creators directly about what motivated them to get started with the project, how it works, their favorite moments, and really anything else under the sun. The forum thread will be open for about a week. When it is closed, the bl
In Honour of our (Hug)QueenAs you all probably know by now (you don’t?! Head over here right now!), our HugQueen put down herIn Honour of our (Hug)Queen by TheMaidenInBlack
hatheart and was given back her senior medal.
HugQueen has been a community presence that changed the Lit community permanently - even before being a Community Volunteer, Stephy was involved in all kinds of stuff. She’s the kind of lady that never knows how to stop, and her effort and love have pushed many other members into action, enriching DeviantArt as a whole.
As a CV she has been equally incredible. LiliWrites and TheMaidenInBlack were added to the team in May 2015, and Stephany demonstrated just how well she knew the community and responsibilities by helping both of us along the way, slowly introducing us to everything and helping us rebound from any hiccup. You could not want anyone better as your mentor, and we’re forever gratef
Collaborations + January feature!Happy New Year everyoneCollaborations + January feature! by MacroPoetry
Before beginning this feature, we would like you to answer this question: Would you be interested in collaborating with an artist from this group?
The idea would be to have a collaboration between a photographer and a poet.
How would it work?
The idea is simple:
- Pick a deviation from the group (only in the Macro and Poetry folders)
- Once you've made your decision, ask the artist if she/he would accept to collaborate you. You can then brainstorm, exchange ideas etc. What you can also do is ask the artist if you could use her/his artwork in order to work from it.
For instance: you pick a poem from the group and illustrate it with a macrophotograph or pick a macrophotograph and write a poem from it
- Once your work is done, don't forget to get the artist's authorization and approval before submitting it, and mention the artist with whom you've decided to collaborate with
- Also, don't forget to leave a comment here with the l
strange how they're born,
its sound never reaching me
The Christmas PromiseBuilt of stones quarried from a century,
the cabin sits low with its back mortared
and braced against the north wind, ice bound
from days gone past in darkness before
the mem'ry of man, the cleaved glacier fields
of long ago to where they roamed,
settling the scarred land here, a man and
his woman have made this place their home
far from his family's village to the south
out of reach from the place of their birth,
eager to be challenged, as part of a
desolate earth of ungodly beauty:
The howl of wolves is music,
The sleet and rain their song.
The midnight sun that guides him
as eight Huskies race the laden sled away
from a town across the inlet where friends
have gathered there for some Christmas cheer.
The fur parka hood that's pulled 'round his face
starts to ice up from the cold as he
thinks of her through the sound of dogs
She tends to him, and their frontier home
where there's the promise of their firstborn
who hasn't introduced himself just yet.
She smiles at the image of her man
after, new snowfall
lays down a blanket
as we gather our clothes
the imprints you and I
left behind, fill with snow
Winter WonderlandSnow blankets the fields that once were green
This Winter Wonderland which can be seen
Creating starkness in a shade of white
We gaze in awe upon this sight
Snowflakes drifting slowly to the ground
Floating softly without a sound
Placing shapes upon this earth
Filling hearts with Winter's mirth
All wrapped in garb to keep us cosy
Of joyous laughter and cheeks so rosy
We make snow-angels in the snow
Such sheer delight with eyes aglow
Snowballs flying through the air
As children play without a care
Shrieks of glee flow on the breeze
Another memory our hearts will seize
And when the day is finally done
We say far
Winter Wanderlust i.
Last winter you held me
under the light of your
our entwined "I Do's"
floated up to become
lodged in the sky.
Every morning I woke
to a warm cup of Earl Grey
and a passionate kiss
on the counter top,
hoping the marred wood
wouldn't give way beneath me.
I even let you look
over my shoulder
as I poured my soul
onto a piece of paper,
tinged with sepia
A whirlwind of postcards and
That's what you called me.
with verses of
my favorite poets.
to the simple,
lines from the
on St Rose
I taped his poem above
the bathroom mirror. I still remember
the way his face lit up when you
handed him that hundred dollar bill.
He thanked us with his written words.
We never did come home
from our honeymoon, did we?
Whenever you kissed my paper cut
fingers, my spine sang with
Winter's Kissi saw winter dancing
so i grabbed her
and pulled her in for a kiss.
with a sweet, slow
i swept her off
and carried her down to summer.
Winter's ChildWinter’s Child
An immaculate adolescent was born,
Under the chill frigid conditions,
Resting beneath ivory flakes.
Pure powder covering her tresses,
As her white iris
Are revealed to the Heavens,
And the vapors open;
The flurry continues above.
Tips of her finger, nestled in her palms,
Before she places her outstretched fingertips,
Into the softness of the crystalline,
She rises, her feet buried in the fallen particles,
Standing tall in the blizzard.
She is the personification of the frost,
Of the cold, ice, and snow.
She is Winter’s Child.
Texas Winter HaikuRadio dreams
of a white Christmas ...
trees are still green.
Winter Storms miyojiwinter storms
they don't last long
frostbiteby our glowing hearth
a frosted glass moonrise—
I warm your hands
Renga Tree: Fresh Powdermy skin still tingles
from our snow bed-
we make new tracks
"They tend to confirm one in one's own conceit -- unless they praise what you yourself don't like. Also, they make you self-conscious about your virtues -- just as when you praise a child for some natural charm. Also, they create an underground opposition: applause is the beginning of abuse. Also, they deprive you of your own anarchic liberties -- by electing you into the government. Also, they separate you from your devil, which hates being observed and only works happily incognito."
--from Ted Hughes to Anne Sexton, 1967
Hi, hon! As part of BloodshotInk's Review Competition, I'm going to be reviewing you--as an artist--here in the comments!
"Jade-Pandora is a true haijin master with a flair for mixing the sensuality of an intimate relationship with the subtle romance of unbridled, untamed nature. The amount of imagery begot from just three lines is enough to keep readers enchanted. With a keen eye for detail and creative phrasing, Jade-Pandora's gallery is sure to keep you coming back for more!"
Actually, it was a prompt that I got to give him for my catching his 25,000 kiriban: "Don't wish the dead back to life.". It was a true challenge and the piece he wrote in response inspired me to give it a special spot all its own here on my page. Please enjoy, and visit neonxaos with some love.
SkyriseThe land is flaming,
a poem written for & given to me by my lovely friend poetries ...
with the abandon
of a gypsy,
the golden bells
on your wrists
jingle and ring,
jingle and sing
a resounding hymn,
one that draws my feet
teaching me to dance
with the abandon
of a gypsy.