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forestmeetwildfire

of sky and sea
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say what now?

1 min read
If you don't post a journal after getting a DD, did you really get one?

Just kidding. But really, this was such a surprise. Especially on a poem I made in about 30 seconds while browsing a gameboard store with some friends who were visiting. But who am I to complain? 

Life outside the internet has been interesting. I've started my PhD now so I think my sleep quality is going to plummet soon. I'm writing a bit here and there but I don't think I'm ever going to get back to that place where I posted like five poems a week. I think we're lucky to get one a month Sweating a little...  how are you guys?

Hi to my new watchers :wave: who are you? let's be friends! 
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30.06.2015

1 min read
Well, it's nice to be back. I had a whopping 5,284 things in my inbox which I promptly deleted and waited patiently for new things to come in... and they didn't? It's been a whole day and there are only 6 deviations and that's just weird. I guess everyone's ditched this place / on vacation / both.

So, please recommend to me a writer (poet) that you've recently discovered or has recently joined dA, cause I have nothing to read and I want to check out some new writers.
also tell me what you've been up to :la:
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WritersInk recently had an amazing contest with the theme "Moral of the Story", so I present to you the fabulous winners!

First Place





  Fan Fiction for the UnconvincedThis is an attempt at an informal essay on fan fiction, by a middle-aged woman who reads and enjoys fan fiction. It won’t really be a balanced argument—I will be concentrating more on what I see as the positive aspects of the genre. I’ll be using mainly examples from the Sherlock fandom, that being the fandom I’m most familiar with. (There will be some spoilers, especially for series 3, so if you haven’t seen the series yet and you intend to, it might be wise to give this essay a miss.)
Why do I read fan fiction? The basic reason is exactly the same reason I read anything—some of it is of astounding quality. I think fan fiction is often saddled with the image of being written solely by beginners and being uniformly terrible. But it’s like any other kind of fiction. You have beginners, you have the competent, you have the talented and experienced. The very best fan fiction writers write at a professional standard; the very best sto
 
FluffThe Diary of His Supreme and Condescending Majesty, King Stalwart Prettipaws, the One and Only
14th April
The housemaid has just given birth to a second child. It really is too much. So much noise. So much commotion. The footman appears to have forgotten I exist. I had to give the order twice this morning before I was fed.
However. I am the King - I must be gracious about the situation. They may be just servants but it is their home too. It would be cruel of me to expect them to leave at this stressful time. Perhaps I will go and stay in another palace for a while. My kingdom is certainly large enough for me to be able to find something to my liking.
Of course, there have been all those skirmishes with local pretenders to my throne recently. But I think the situation is now in paw. (No-one can yell and fluff themself up like I can.) It has undeniably been stressful though. And now with the staff reproducing… All in all it might be a good idea to get away for
Musical ChairsThree women.
Three bladders.
Two toilets.





Second Place










Third Place




StrengthMy grandfather was the strongest man I ever met. If you’ve ever seen someone on TV perform some superhuman feat of strength and thought that it wasn’t real, you’ve never met my grandfather. I have seen him rip a telephone book in half. He reached his full height of 6”4’ at the age of fourteen, and by the age of fifteen he had left school to work in the metal works. No one thought twice about it, because he was more than capable of the work and looked older than he was.
I am not strong. My joints frequently hurt, although I do not think I can convey to you how much of an understatement the word ‘hurt’ is in this situation. Most people didn’t understand why I didn’t run as long or as fast as the other children, or take delight in the frequent football scrimmages that almost all the boys I knew took such delight in. when I told them “I can’t, my legs ache,” they just told me to be strong.
My grandfather didn’t.
  A Mathematical Proof Of HopeA prime number is a number divisible only by itself and one. For example, the number five can only be divided by five or by one. If you divide it by any other number, you won't get an integer (a whole number).
Needless to say, not every number is a prime number. Most of them aren't.
However, there are an infinite amount of them. There are an infinite amount of numbers, and because prime numbers are a subset of ordinary numbers there are just as many of them.
Think about that, for a moment. There are less prime numbers than ordinary numbers, and yet both of them are infinite. A paradox. By its very definition, infinity cannot vary in size, so there cannot be a bigger infinity or a smaller infinity. Numbers are both infinite and containing infinity. And yet this is the case.
There are, however, a finite quantity of people. A little over seven billion, at the moment.
Except that, in a sense, there are considerably more people than that. Perhaps not an infinite supply, but close enough tha
SchizophreniaHolding on to a thought has always been... difficult for me. They're so rarely interesting enough to hold my attention for more than a few seconds. Quite often, I'll tune out what someone is saying because something they said sparks a thought which leads to another thought which leads to another thought...
No, I don't get distracted by shiny objects. I'm a human, not a magpie.
I never really cared that I wasn't listening to what people were saying. My thoughts, as cascading as they are, were always more interesting than they were. Eventually, I did away with people entirely, living in my own stream of consciousness. Even now, it is difficult to continue mustering the willpower to finish this, instead of rushing off to read a Virginia Woolf novel.
Then, after I'd isolated myself from all those boring people and their slow, mundane thoughts, I became aware of a shift in my own though processes. I noticed that, when having a thought, I'd finish thinking the end of the thought before I'd a





While on the subject of WritersInk, they're in need of a new gallery mod (cause I'm leaving them :noes:) so if you think you might be interested, send C-A-Harland a note! I've been with them for almost two years (I think?) and they are really one of the best literature groups on dA. You can't go wrong.

Hope you're all doing well :aww:

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28/05/2014

9 min read
we came as humans do                  [to whomever is left to listen]
and I thought that we could forget that we are giants,
monsters with footsteps that bruise the tender flowerbeds down below
we must realize that to sleep is not to wither in the decomposition
of the soil we try so hard to forget
was here before us, but to dream that this
ground is not the barren dollhouse we have left it to be
these cities are graveyards for the cost of construction,
buildings tombstones for all that should have sprouted
but was built instead, scraping the dreams from the sky like
stars burning out and falling back to earth
nothing grows here anymore
our concrete sprawls across this landscape like a parasite,
like an unwanted lover
we will drain the color from the cheeks of this valley
suburbia is a scab that cannot be ripped off
a cancer that grows in the prairies like wildfire
this civilization comes neatly packaged in sparkling plastic,
a cosmetic enhancement, over-
  to hell with goodwill (que sera sera)his tale-weaving tongue
tastes of crisp linen
his breath
drenched in bergamot
locked in by lips
of brown sugar that bubble
a blueberry melody
on his siren songs
i've sunken
drunken on an unearthly state
i drown my earl grey eyes
refusing to abandon the atrocity
that is his bedspread
~
his vesuvius temper
everest pride
keep me on the verge of tears
on the ledge of limitations
loathing
lust
longing
trust
i know all too well
i can never repel his touch
his gaze glazes over my beehive body
and i break open
gracelessly
raw and wild
sucking on the saccharine serendipity
of seeing this scene
in some long lost dream
his lambent limbs
though scathingly swollen
from warning-stings
spread far and wide
such is my
exasperation
emancipation
~
i am peeled
past my quivering
petrichor-tampered film
he polishes and pencils
past my profanities
his life oeuvre is
to have me obliterated
of insecurity
come what may
the desolation of this delusion
will one day leave me
dead-end demented
to inferno with goodw
   point blank dangerousthe other morning i saw bugs crawling into my sink that weren't there when i looked back up again. i get headaches the size of bricks, stabbing me like toothpicks and chainsaws all at once. when i see you my hands start shaking and not in a good way, not anymore, i can't look at your eyes without wanting to throw up - not from disgust, but from pure, unadulterated fear, you are the most beautiful pistol, point blank dangerous, since the first time you looked at me in that way - and you know the way i mean - i knew i'd just bought myself a one way ticket into the pit of my stomach and i knew i wouldn't be alright for a very, very long time. and they say forever isn't that long at all but try carving your own infinities into the soles of your feet or balling your hands into fists and opening them with new dimensions inside, it ain't all that easy and maybe now you'll understand when i tell you i can't move on. not because it's risky, not because i'm scared. i'm not scare  woke up for six,and now it's nearly midnight. the bedsheets still smell 
like the nape of your neck lie creased like your hands 
over my hips i cannot sleep too wound up too low 
with the heat of friction too twisted tangled thirstily
throat scratched out by the itch i am waiting waiting
whispering pillow talk and i think that sometimes 
wanting is the loneliest action.



A few of the many gems I'm unearthing from my inbox (finally taking the time to go through it! I'm still back in April so be patient with me)

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Featured

say what now? by forestmeetwildfire, journal

30.06.2015 by forestmeetwildfire, journal

WritersInk Contest Feature + etc. by forestmeetwildfire, journal

28/05/2014 by forestmeetwildfire, journal

NaPoWriMo feature by forestmeetwildfire, journal