naiadgirl1012

the Kiwi =D

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68. Hero by naiadgirl1012, literature

Literature

68. Hero

Céolsige Hwæt! In the month when the land birthed this story, it was warm, it was thawing-time. Deep in the dirt, Spring was scalding Winter's bones with her hot rains, gnawing the old meat off his iron-cold ribs. It was the time of buds splitting open, of new roots snaking and swelling under the dark mud, of Eostre's hungry mouth sliding warm over the earth to melt the ice. It was green. Now, the king Céomil was a mild man—a lover of lute-music and poetry, a peacemaker. He squandered his gold and let his strength wilt away, being too plump to best any man. A kin-shamer. A pitiable king. His cowardice heaped utter disgr

42. Still by naiadgirl1012, literature

88. Spring by naiadgirl1012, literature

12. Insanity by naiadgirl1012, literature

22. Mother by naiadgirl1012, literature

Literature

22. Mother

Mother: A Pantoum 1 The snow outside was swirling, 2 Like when Mum dropped our last bag of flour 3 And it broke all over the floor, 4 Throwing puffs and spurts of white into the air. 2 When Mum dropped our last bag of flour, 5 My brother and I made it into a sport: 4 Throwing puffs and spurts of white into the air 6 She froze and pleaded. She struggled. 5 My brother and I made it into a sport 7 Until Mum was worn and stiff and thin as a chicken bone. 6 She froze and pleaded. She struggled 8 To take up a hard veneer instead, to smile. 7 Mum was worn and stiff and thin as a chicken bone. 9 She had long ago dropped he

73. I Can't by naiadgirl1012, literature

24. Want by naiadgirl1012, literature

Literature

24. Want

Love Song of an Astrophysicist Glass drips from the wraiths of heat, and cools sugar-slick in the vacuum outside. It’s not half so cold as the bright ice of your voice, but I—never despairing—know that for every failed love poem and misstep of my lips, there is an equal and opposite reaction in your scorn, and one day when the air drips thick with possibility, I’ll be yours. But let’s skip the wobbly rhymes of romance. Lately, I am disenthralled with Casimir and Grassmar, with Einstein. The numbers have gone dull and sour as ink on my tongue. I want to clothe you in the radiance of the Phoenix Nebula, to

40. 4:29PM by naiadgirl1012, literature

Literature

40. 4:29PM

Detour through a Street that Smelled of Curry Around downtown: the street, the heat, the noise of boys, ramshack- le black houses. Mustard oil, card- amom and lamb waft soft, aloft within the thin hot air. The shops, the hops- cotch games. Surnames are tossed across the street like meat to dogs. The sweat on wet tourists whose wrists sag down, who frown and ache to slake their thirst.

58. Kick in the Head by naiadgirl1012, literature

Literature

58. Kick in the Head

The Morning, the Shotgun, and the Gate While the whiskey sting loitered on my dry tongue, While the wind’s dry tongue seared my groaning lungs, While the chanticleer’s groaning lungs harrowed the dawn, I was hoping the dust choked you on the way out of my gate, (Just for a moment, fleetingly) while my husband looked for a gun. I was watching you leave my house, and wondering if it was for good. While the wind’s dry tongue seared my groaning lungs, You marched through the gate like Caesar, like a proud man You don’t answer to no man about a loyal wife’s rumpled sheets, You don’t creep out the back door a

82. Can You Hear Me? by naiadgirl1012, literature

Literature

82. Can You Hear Me?

Erin? What were you feeling that day? Was there something strange about the way your head was hurting? Did you even know that such a thing as nuchal rigidity existed, or What it meant? Did you have purple spots? Fever? Photo-phonophobia? How many Advil? Were you scared? Did you joke: “I think I’m dying”? Why did you come home? Did you know? No one drives four hours for a headache. Perhaps a brief twinge in your mind (not neuchal rigidity) prompted you into the car, and saved you from dying in a lonely, strange hospital bed two hundred miles from home. Do y

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a tribute to One Who Needs by naiadgirl1012, literature

Literature

a tribute to One Who Needs

In forest glade where singing bird And frosted roses grace the ground And soft sweet song is all that's heard, There, true peace, it may be found. Reflective pools of tranquil water, Their grassy banks asleep – unstirred Where air is full of children's laughter Pain and suff'ring are dimmed and blurred. There will I find my lifelong dream Of a place that bliss can call her own Where all is certain just as it seems. It's there my love that I am home.

Before by naiadgirl1012, literature

Literature

Before

Before… before summer birds have flown away and cool clean light has forsaken Day before body's warmth is stolen away and the pale moon-glow has met its fate before roses shed their blood-hue red and the trees disgraced – their grandeur fled before wind cools to frozen breath and autumn melts to hueless death before… now turn skyward, away from pain and sense – spellbound – the voice of the rain! to starlight's gleam return your eyes to soft cold glint and the light-strewn skies before… before the oceans burn away the Earth and Death and Life acquire worth before all pure light has lost its glow and water scorches, fire flow

Fly Away by naiadgirl1012, literature

Literature

Fly Away

I'm trapped in a cruel world of death pain and strife, of unbearable hurting, inescapable Life where everything's nothing, nothing's what it seems and not enough comfort comes from dying dreams where Life taunts the lonely while Death haunts the brave, and you're only relief's in a small unmarked grave it's an Earth where the tombs stretch as far as you see, where love is a rare find and joy's obsolete the light turns to dark, and the sun can't return, the stars have all fled, and the moon has been burned the people cry out for the mountains to fall but Death has flown elsewhere, evading us all now everyone's fleeing, and I'm left

Enemy Song by naiadgirl1012, literature

Literature

Enemy Song

now sing for me, sweet enemy let your voice rise pure and free as you speak your soundless plea sing a song to me be filled with hatred and romance tread with me your eerie dance as you pay obeisance sing a song to me fill me with your chilling lies whisper with your hallowed eyes as the soul within me dies sing a song to me faintly whisper haunting strains voice melodies betraying pains as the light within us wanes sing a song to me

Caecus by naiadgirl1012, literature

Literature

Caecus

The hymn echoed softly through the expansive cathedral. "Cor, arca legem continens, non servitutis veteris, Sed gratiae, sed veniae, sed et misericordiae. Cor sanctuarium novi intemeratum foederis, Templum vetusto sanctius, velumque scisso utilius." Caecus' upturned face searched the sharply vaulted ceiling of the chapel, his senses honed solely on the hymn. The lilting, ethereal music floated from the lips of the choir and from the hymnals, the swells of the sacred, compelling song tossed upward toward the highest reaches of the aged church ceiling, to which the young man was facing with such a spellbound look. It was almost as if he wa

Rain and Cereal by naiadgirl1012, literature

Literature

Rain and Cereal

Today it rains. I'm sitting in the family room (but they're out somewhere) wearing a top that shows a bit too much skin and watching the raindrops and cars and Life pass by through the Big Window you got for me The leaves have opened (well, it's spring, you know) but they've been sent cowering back into their little mother-twigs. It's raining hard, hard. Lifeless buds form a scatter-carpet beneath the trees because Nature is a cruel creature and only wants the best for herself. The little weak ones didn't make it again. You know, I was thinking of you this morning while toying with thoughts of love and grandeur and death and wond

Lonely December by naiadgirl1012, literature

Literature

Lonely December

A time in chill, remiss December, love remembrance still refuses to escape. Was it the night of cold and bitter warmth when you held me so close? It drove away the snow and ice…and hurt. But your arms are long gone as is something like Love. Allow me, love, to sleep in sweet malaise, to laze and sulk, to disremember how the smell of ice and broken-hearted skies once drove me to my knees Annulling, love, rescinding things sublime there's been no time for reminiscing since the ghosts of faded passion-autumn bruised a naïve child's dreams… The rain fell rudely, harsh from wintry sky, evoking glances of mendacious smiles. They h

Autumn Storm: School Project by naiadgirl1012, literature

Literature

Autumn Storm: School Project

Thunder! Angry, heavy skies brood together, casting fierce glances on the plains. The fabric of the sky weaves himself into a black-spun thunderhead, A mountain of storm-cloth the color of raven wings, The color of the screaming crows. The rain teeters on the edge of the bowl-clouds. Rain falls like silver beads from the storm's dark loom, The mighty storm-loom Woven with the fringed bowl-clouds, Clouds like black dishes brimming with fierce rain and white fire, Great black clouds like a war-horse's trailing mane. The rainstorm breaks, dashing himself against the earth in a nimble rain-dance,

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How to Write a Sestina by LadyEponine, literature

Literature

How to Write a Sestina

In order to write a sestina, you must start by being unsure, quickly switching from cold to hot to cold and to hot again, the temperature being like a cat in the Sahara desert at dusk. Sit on your porch at dusk, watch the clouds create their sestinas. As you watch, allow your cat beside you, her tongue lapping unsurely from a cup. Look up again, wonder if milk would be hot if left out. It is hot; There is a heat about dusk. Forget. Forget about the poem again, Look around. Everywhere, there are sestinas. Not just in the cool, unsure ripples your cat makes, the gentle clink clink your cat's teeth make as she tips h

Deviation Spotlight

Ecce, Sum Christianus by naiadgirl1012, literature

Literature

Ecce, Sum Christianus

The dungeon was cramped and dim, but Antonius would have gladly borne a cell twice as dark with half the floor space if it would spare him from the arena that awaited him. A stench of something terrible rose from the dusty floor. "Gods, the morning stinks of sweat and death," he said. If his mouth had been less dry, he would have spat in the dirt. But the gods refused to be appealed to. Antonius fell silent, in accordance with the sullen atmosphere that encompassed the dungeon. He craned his neck to look out the window, and watched the sun's gilt lip as it edged over the arena walls. A few hours more and I'll be out there, he thought, sulki

Ecce, Sum Christianus

naiadgirl1012

About naiadgirl1012

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Artist // Photography

New Zealand
Deviant for 20 years
She / Her

Badges

My Bio

Favourite genre of music: Classical, but I also love foreign music and anything beautiful.
Personal Quote: Artists use infinite palates to create the finite. Writers use finite palates to create the infinite

Favourite Visual Artist

SheraShira -supermegadeathhuggle- and anyone who uses gorgeous colours.

Favourite Movies

A good historical drama has always got my interest.

Favourite Writers

TS Eliot, Joseph Heller, Joseph Conrad, Shakespeare, and Edgar Allen Poe.

Tools of the Trade

Laptop, yumm. -munches-

Other Interests

God ^^ (also: writing, flute, and reading--especially fantasy and mythology)

Posts

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naiadgirl1012

Dec 1, 2008

National Novel Writing Month

0 min read

* [edit] * With half an hour to go, I got 50,000 words. I'm so doing this next year. http://www.nanowrimo.org * [/edit] * There seem to be some cobwebs all over my journal... So I'm midway through my first ever National Novel Writing Month (www.nanowrimo.org). Classes seem to be winding down a bit, and so I miraculously haven't been quite so busy lately, so I thought I'd pick up this novel writing thing to squash some discipline into my skull. Self-imposed stress never felt so good. So far I've written 26,000+ words (about 85 double-spaced pages) of completely new writing since the start of the month. Thinking about the 5-page and 10-pag

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naiadgirl1012

Jun 23, 2007

Pomp and Circumstance

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Graduated. Mrawr. <3

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naiadgirl1012

Jun 13, 2007

The Best and the Worst EDIT

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I would like to edit my list of things I hate. Please note: 26. Fanfic. No. Just...no. Thank you. :aww: *** You know you want to repost. ^^ 25 Things You Didnt Know I Loved: 1. Raspberry and Lemon Sorbet 2. Bilingual Boys with Sexerful Accents 3. Bobby Flay (and everything else in Iron Chef or on the Food Network) _> ) 25 Things I More or Less Despise: 1. J K Rowling 2. Emo Kids 3. Anything with Milkfat or Cream (Cool Whip, Whipped Cream, etc.) 4. Immaturity 5. Anything in Poor Taste 6. People who say  People that  7. Blunt Pencils 8. Sweet N Low and Aspartame 9. Loud, Needlessly Aggressive Liberals a