hannahdavies666

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Hey, just a quick update to let you know I'm trying to get back on dA as best I can.

I've had a really bad week. Despite the lovely weather, I just feel more and more alone and down.

I can't even write properly anymore.

Sorry guys. I'll try to be more positive next time.

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I don't think many people read my journals anyway, but I'm going to feature a few things just in case. I love these pieces, and I'm gonna do my own tiny bit to show them to the world.

First I would like to share with you a piece by one of my favourite writers on dA, wonderlustqueen.

I cannot describe the stark beauty of this piece. Sensational.

A little piece that really spoke to me, very short indeed but sweet as anything. By NarutoNinja44,
:thumb188048762:

Now, the piece that made me look up OritPetra,

I love raw, untidy poetry. There's nothing quite like it.

And another by OritPetra that really took my breath away;

Such a short piece but SUCH an impact! I really love this. It really spoke to me especially because of my own struggles with mental illness.

And a piece by the lovely :hersoftestsoul:,
body imageryI have been dissected for far too long,
by rays, by scalpels, by words;
leave my ribs alone,
the poor, tired,
collapsing things.
my vertebrae have been
through enough
without being dragged
through another
poem.
This really points out something about body imagery that I didn't notice before. Whether you agree or not, you cannot help but gawp at the brutally honest way she has excecuted the argument.

The piece that made me watch EmaciatedandEpitaphs
Cockroaches Don't Smoke                 (To peer through his eyes; smoldering nicotine embers.  Shuddering beneath the firefly glow.)
His charcoal breath always went with those cigarette lips.  The consequences of kissing addiction.
Tobacco-scorched arms threaten the embrace of a chain-s[aw]moker.
Baby, I remember you with eyes of periwinkle concrete.  All the independent paths of your freckles, they used to mark the places we could go, the adventures we'd stumble into.
                 (But now, his freckles are just a way to count all the ways it never worked.)
My eyes are snowball-ice and when he breathes the heat of that cigarette stench, I melt into an unfortunate slush mess.
                 (Asphalt hands attempting to so
I love this piece, so beautifully worded it gives me a lovely feeling inside. Brilliant work.

Another by EmaciatedandEpitaphs
Softcore Porn and Moldy FruitYou'd expect the bite of lemon juice to be enough,
o' but no, the incisions always indulged in moldy peaches.  
Raunchy, biodegradable fruits
full of foul odors and seeds that say "Fuck You"
if you ask them to grow.
You'd think someone would begin to loath
the invasive glint of steel soaked in citrus rot,
but no, her stitches kept tasting for the ache
of scalpel beneath skin.  
That familiar ooze;
peaches and crème slipping down forearm.
She grew accustomed to the daily rituals of apricot patches
molding to skin.  
She understood the necessity of routine,
the demands of a schedule.
Scabs peeled and picked
to a fleshy, citrus dessert. 
I find her infatuated with tangerine ice-cream
sliding from the seam of arteries,
and I'm wincing as she
relishes liquid candy.  
And it's demented, but her eyes shriek  "Delicious. Delicious."
And this is revolting and wretched, but her eye's say "You Love
I could not resist featuring this. Such a chilling piece, the metaphor is perfection. I love it.

And that's about it XD

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Just a feature for all the splendid work here on dA I've been enjoying recently.

First feature for my friend Liorah, who I didn't realise was as good at writing as she is, as painting is her main 'thing':
:thumb180569495:

Another feature for one of my favourite writers on dA, londonrey. I know I keep featuring her, but you guys really should read this - it's STUNNING.
Twowho is to tell me i shouldn't miss it--
my window faced a playground.
its twisty slide was filled with snow,
and the silence was silenter than i'm used to
but that was alright,
cos there was an old radio
on my nightstand.
the only station that came in was nothing
but older than old country,
and even that was still fuzzy.
the word fuzzy makes me think of peaches and/or caterpillars.
in sixth grade i killed one of our caterpillars
on accident cos it fell off the desk it was crawling on.
i was cryin an cryin, thinkin what that little green babe musta felt
while it was gettin smooshed between my shin bone and the chair.
i was cryin even before the kids were snappin
like beetle claws in the air in front of my face.
i used angry paper towels to scrape the poor babe off
and to wipe my cheeks.
i'm thinkin maybe some of him got on me and then in me,
cos i can still feel his hurt.
at night-time i love to cocoon
the hospital-white sheets
around my shaky limbs.
i think if i hold myself in tight

I discovered the stunning writer livesofbirds today, and I am bloody glad I did! Wow, what talent! This short piece really took my breath away:


An absolutely beautiful piece that I favourited after reading the first few lines. Such an original piece that I discovered only today, by Poetrymann
ClothesOur clothes got lost
coming home -
I think they slipped off
to Morocco,
or went skinny dipping,
you whispered
in that bare skin voice of yours.
Or maybe they are seducing
the back seat
of a taxi,
daring the floorboards
not to creak
and the windows
not to blink.
Perhaps even now
the shameless pink
of your blouse
is undressing my jacket.
stripping my lapels
loose and lean
and my jeans
are coaxing the red
right out
of your skirt
and holding it hostage,
or maybe the elusive cool
of your shoulders
is windburn
and urging my tie
to trap your touch.
Besides, morning is crammed
between my ears again
and I don't recognize us
with our clothes on.

A fantastically ugly, real, mesmerising piece that really stunned me by Xswiffy
:thumb178700065:

And now, by the wonderfully-talented-but-I-only-discovered-today Squirrelshters, is the mind blowing piece 'in the dark':
in the darki.
of all places, why a cafe?
        there are innocent people here
        why would two people like us end up in the place like this?
                          at the same time?
"is that you, muffin?"
     here i am, drinking a caramel latte -
     there you are,    walking over to me;
*still the same
         big
           plastic
                red
                   hair.
     

PLease, please, PLEASE look at these features. I'm probably going to link this journal to my facebook and tumblr, as these are some truly breathtaking talents that should NOT go amiss. I genuinely adore these pieces


Begone.

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Indeed, I have made a new word. Retverre. It shall mean a deep musing upon the fabric of life.

Today's been...

Retverre.

I realise I have the power to create entire worlds with a pen, to unleash the insanities of the subconcious on fiction, to shift reality into hundreds of thousands of different keys.

But in reality; I can change the tiniest details about the world, I can give a muffin to a homeless man, I can compliment a stranger or forgive someone I really hate.

Therefore, can I save the world or can I not?

I cannot change the future.

I can choose my future but things may interrupt it more than I can.

Does fate exist?



Begone.

**UPDATE**

Here is the feature as promised, for the winners of the WritersAreArtistsToo contest

First Place: AnnamaeTezuka with her piece The End...of SummerThey sat in the stillness of the graveyard, its stolid presence a rock in the mercurial world. He, dressed casually in t-shirt and shorts, tanned chestnut by the hot sun, sat on the ledge next to a beautiful pink marble headstone; she, elegant in several petticoats too many for the season and a winter-pale color to her skin, sat demurely beside him.
"How was your summer, Colin?" she asked, her voice an autumn whisper.
He looked at her pensively. "I had fun," he said at last, sounding guilty. "I swam a little, went to the park; you know, the same old stuff. I missed you, though." He paused. "I'm happy to see you again."
A china-doll smile lit up her frosted strawberry lips. "I missed you too," she admitted.
His face screwed up for a moment; it looked as though he would cry. But, desperate to keep up his bravado, Colin swallowed hard and let his features reset to normal.
The sun glared through the trees, approaching the end of its grace on the day. "You know, Colin, I've been thinking. L

Second Place: Inzhuna with her piece The End of SummerAll beauty fleets, and flowers wither,
The days grow cold, as fall comes hither.
I don't feel warmth, I don't see light,
It's dark where 't'used to be so bright.
The pain inside, it's cold and hollow,
To where you've gone, I cannot follow.
My broken heart I cannot mend
As I stand here at summer's end.
The sun shines less, and days are shorter,
And autumn looms from every quarter.
With each breath drawn, the world goes glummer
But where you are it's always summer.
I would have asked for you to stay
But you can't hear a word I pray.
You were my life, but life is frail,
Ephemeral, gone without a trail,
And now I'm left in empty silence
With fleeting summer as my guidance
To find a way to come along,
Or leave the place I don't belong.
I know the way that life's designed,
So many things get left behind;
Time, I think, is most unkind.
It flows, mercurial and blind,
And leaves me nothing but remembrance
Of you the last and feeble semblance.
I'm barefoot on wilted grass,
The fog surrounds me a

Third Place: Kupo9089 with his piece September BluesMelody, harmony, chord.
I wove you into those three things and you became integral in my music and writing.  I wanted to tell you everything; every word that became a piece of the crusty armor, neatly crumbling around my heart.  I wanted to sing every song to you, in hopes that you would understand that these feelings aren't ephemeral.  They weren't the simple feelings you get from a crush.  They weren't mercurial; I knew I wanted to hold you as mine.
I'm sorry I never got to tell you.
This is my remembrance of you, dear.
___________________________________
"Hey Tayl, do you remember the day we met?"
I couldn't help but smile as you asked me that question; I do remember very clearly.
It was this day.  This same exact day in which summer blends itself into fall with the dropping of mercury in the thermometer and the breeze picking up dead, crinkled leaves.  Your eyes landed on mine as I walked around the park, sin

Do take a look at all their pieces!



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Hey

I have awesome news On Friday I found out that I won a commended place in a national poetry competition - The Foyle Young Poet of the Year award.

www.poetrysociety.org.uk/conte…

My entry was among 20, 510 entries and came in the top 85, though where among that I do not know. I am also to attend a prize giving ceremony at the Royal Albert Hall in London

As for other news, I'm getting on a little better than I was before. I've been extremely well organised this term so far, and have started writing again, which is all good. I'm going to Ozzfest this Saturday, which I am SO excited about

Anyhow, that's enough from me really. I shall begone.

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