I'll see you in a week! I should have some things to upload when I get back. I hope you all have lovely weeks. Also, for those of you that would like a feature and aren't listed below, comment on this journal or the last and I'll pick three pieces out of your gallery.
Love and prayers,
P.S. The cake is finished. Eaten.o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
First 14 people to comment on this journal will get a feature - there are rules, but I won't enforce them myself.
REQUIRED: If you do comment, you're expected to do the same in your own journal; putting me in first place, completing the list with 14 other people to make a sum of 15 people. The idea behind this is NOT to get a free feature but to help spread art and artists around for everyone.
I copied this from ~StarSubeki's journal. Here are my three favourite pieces from her:
But yes, the first 14 people to comment on this journal gets a free feature. It would be nice if you did the same, as it's good to spread the love, but I won't be hounding you down.
1. How do I pick just three? There's so much gorgeous photography in your gallery!
:thumb197698964: :thumb48524751: :thumb98346021:
Um, this lovely, fantastic lady has her deviations in storage, so I can't really show you any of her writing... but she's amazing!
(I know that last one's from your old account but still.)
:thumb215615056: :thumb251401972: :thumb256334716:
Autumnal TreasureTime moves on day by day,
Summer, spring, autumn, winter,
Each dies and is born anew,
Bearing gifts on its way through.
Winter with an icy chill,
Howls menacingly in the ear,
Killing the soul,
Depressing the view,
It moves on slowly,
As new hope draws closer.
In comes spring with grace and promise,
The chill lifts,
Both manage to ruin the image,
A season of hope and beauty,
Viewed only through rose lenses.
Summer lazily raises its head,
Holiday-makers take to the road,
Sitting for hours going nowhere,
Others laze in a garden chair,
Too hot t
A World Benath, A World BelowSitting beneath a canopy of green, white and pink I rest,
Its heavenly scent creeping down from above,
Its intoxicating tendrils embracing me as I ease in summer's paralysis.
Before me sits the great mirror,
The dark fluid holding many mysteries in its infinite depths,
Yet the surface reveals only the here and now.
The longer I gaze into this inky pool the more intense its hold over me,
Deeper in I'm pulled, my soul draining,
Merging with the dark portal lost within the deep catacombs of the underside.
Far from reach I desperately attempt to cling onto the above,
Alas it is too late.
As I plunge forever down the icy coolness ebbs
The place you return to after each hard day.
The little haven offering peace and warmth.
Its happy aura and promise of security,
tempts us to enter its open mouth.
Not for me.
The place I return to after each school day.
The cold, grey box of false promise.
Its depressed expression and run-down eyes,
makes me wonder why.
Why do I enter?
greeted by razor-sharp tongues,
belonging to harpies screeching day and night,
lashing me constantly with their voices,
driving me to misery and despair.
The sun sets,
its hopeful glow vanishing under creeping darkness.
With the darkness comes a veil of fear.