Spinning (In Her Grave)She came in a series of packages. The limbs were the first; their sectioned silver expanses reflecting the sunlight as I reverently opened the slender boxes. If I'm honest, I must admit my breath caught, but for a moment, at the beauty I unveiled. As the moment passed, I gathered the necessary materials and spun limb sections into their rightful place alongside their counterpart. The children crowded eagerly around, but lost interest quickly, even as I tinkered.Spinning (In Her Grave) by camelopardalisinblue
Once they were whole, I polished the limbs daily, spinning them in my hands and impatient for the next package. When it arrived, the children crowded me once more, their interest held a little better as I set about the work of connecting her, spinning her limbs all the while. It took me two weeks to finish, and by then the penultimate package had arrived.
This one would require far more time, and my deepest concentration. I sent away the children who crowded me, their lilting voices and speculations too much of a distraction. T
Aussie ArmyThe sky-eye beats down over us, a harsh reminder that summer in this country is cruel. There are no lush hills, only red dust our feet mark lightly. Sometimes it feels like we've been marching forever, the glare of the sky-eye a truth as heavy and immoveable as a fallen tree. We march, stopping for sustenance as it is needed; a drink here, or the remains of a deceased animal there. Our own supplies have long since been used up and we are forced to rely on the land’s meagre offerings. It is hot, it is dry, and it is hungry work, but it is necessary.Aussie Army by camelopardalisinblue
We are still marching when a whisper hisses its way through the columns. A few folk stumble, but the march doesn't halt, and they quickly regain their rightful place. Still, there is a sense of excitement now, spreading through our ranks. 'Food,' the whisper goes. 'C. A. Harland, this month's Forward Scout, has spotted a feast ahead.' It will take many more movements of the sky-eye before we reach it, but the mere thought of replenishi
ArtistryIt was almost perfect. One or two more strokes were all that it would take, and as he finished preparing, the young King sighed with contentment and fatigue. He'd been at it for almost 12 hours this time, and his muscles were straining in protest, but he knew in his bones that it was worth it. Art, after all, was a skill that took time to master, and the King was determined to cultivate it in himself until he was the best in all the lands.Artistry by camelopardalisinblue
He stretched, his bones crackling along his spine and arms, then grasped the picture box provided by his Mage. "Hold still," he admonished his squirming models before giving the box its appropriate command. "Image," he demanded, and the box complied, spitting out an exact replica of the scene before him.
Examining it quickly, he sighed again. "Imperfections," he moaned. He waved the image in his Chamberlain's face, still moaning. "They look like they're in pain! This won't do at all," he stressed, before brightening. "Tomorrow! We will begin a
Clockwork BondThe large silver serving platter functioned nicely as a makeshift shield. She was wielding it thoughtfully, a rolling pin in the other hand as she imagined herself fighting off hordes of villainous gizmos, when Cook re-entered the room. "Isabelle!" The paunch woman, voice raised over the hissing steam and pounding pistons of the kitchen, was not happy. "Get on with your work, girl."Clockwork Bond by camelopardalisinblue
The stern admonishment loosened Isabelle's grip, and the platter crashed to the floor, spinning across its expanse like a giant coin. The rolling pin followed, slipping into the shadows and knocking into a tiny figure that quickly moved away. Isabelle flushed and Cook's glare deepened. "I've told you before. You'll not find yourself any part of the battles ahead. Now get that cleaned up and finish your chores." She quirked an eyebrow in the girl's direction, and gathered the items she'd returned for.
Sensing the girl's discontent even as she kneeled, Cook added a threat on her way out the door. "No more non
Day 3- The Rifleman's WalkThe rifleman walked his feet bloody. His boots were hours behind him on the dusty road. His feet, worn raw by the unpaved highway, were a collection of bleeding lacerations and oozing blisters. He bent forward as though he were climbing up a steep incline. Just walking jarred his bones, until he felt he would break himself apart from the force of each step.Day 3- The Rifleman's Walk by IntelligentZombie
He must have looked smart once in his officer’s frock, with pressed trousers, and shined boots. Now he looked like a dead man who’d climbed out of his own grave, bloodied from a past that was only two steps behind.
The lemon yellow dress hugged her curves better in his memory. She wore a bonnet over her hair, but for him, for his memory of her, she undid the strings. She dropped the bonnet to the ground. Her eyes were brown, and for him they were wide and full of love, but he couldn’t remember if she’d really loved him that much.
As a hallucination, her stomach was full and round, and pregnancy suited her. Th
FFM 2015 Day 4 Challenge: SilkpunkThe children had never learned to speak.FFM 2015 Day 4 Challenge: Silkpunk by The-Inkling
Their parents had been mutilated by the mad Emperor years before, hands severed and their tongues cut out, so that they could neither communicate nor help themselves. Villagers came to the temple to tend them, but it was considered a dishonor to speak in their presence, and so their children had grown in silence, feral, untutored and devoid of any common tongue.
To the east, a toxic sunrise was just beginning to crest the horizon, and holding a scrap of heavy silk across her nose against the stench, Jian Shu surveyed the scene before her. It had been a great temple once, dedicated to the old gods, but war had left it gutted and consigned it to rot, and now fat blue flies buzzed through the ruins, making their lazy way through the stagnant summer air to land on the emaciated, sickly people that huddled in the shade beneath the walls.
It recalled to her mind an old poem from her childhood.
"Graven images of long-departed gods,
dry spiritless l
The Rembrandts“I spent a long time collecting up those tapes,” the old man says. “I’ve got the whole lot. Every single one.”The Rembrandts by DamonWakes
There certainly are a great many. They take up the only set of shelves in the house, leaving no room for books.
“Promise me you’ll look after them.”
A foolish promise, but one I keep regardless. Even after the bombs drop and all the trees crumble into ash.
The Reader is a large device, made heavy by its great dignity. A dead format for a dead world.
“What knowledge will the Tapes of the Wanderer impart?” you ask.
“That is a holy mystery,” whispers the deacon. “All we know for sure is that it is of great importance. Listen, scribe, and commit their words to stone.”
FFM 2015: Day 3Angela gave the pamphlet a dubious once-over and shook her head.FFM 2015: Day 3 by The-Inkling
“I’m just not sure, it seems very ominous.”
“Not at all!” The salesman’s expression was positively pained. “It’s the perfect security system for every home. It sees all, knows all, and for a small extra fee, it even comes with a set of Nazgul.”
“Hmm.” Angela pursed her lips, still undecided. It was a big commitment after all, and she had a feeling it would clash with her curtains. But still.
“I suppose that does sound rather good.” She admitted, ’But I have a limited budget, and there’s a man three stalls down from you who's offered me my very own ancient civilisation for just $5000.00. You can’t go wrong with a deal like that.”
“No, no, no. You’re being had, trust me. It seems like a good deal, but the headache is more trouble that it’s worth. All that micro-managing, and that’s not
your teeth leave different scarswhat they didn't tell me--
Forgive This Grief (Miscarriage)My arms are weighted with her space,
(August 31, 2013; April 26, 2014)
Daily Lit Deviations during 2014
I Am More Than BPDDon't tell me you know me better
10 Myths For 10 Mythics1. To Gaia:
(March 13, September 24)
Daily Lit Deviations during 2013
Your Non-Existent CompetitionMy fingers hover over numbers I have not needed to think about for years, and I urge myself to make the call. Still hesitant, I pick out the digits that still translate to "home" in my mobile, though for years it has been only a house; sometimes mine, sometimes not. It rings once and I hang up, then try again and again and again. Third time might be the charm, but today it takes five of these hang ups before I stay on the line.
(we all are the) monarchwe are not born noble.
(November 17, October 13)
I Am Not Your ReceptacleI am not your receptacle,
Artist Reviews and Compliments
(aka, people say really nice things about me and I don't want to ever forget them):
bloodawni is an incredible ray of sunshine. Regardless of the hardships she has confronted and continues to take charge of, she manages to bring smiles to the faces of so many and brightens our lives just by being here. On top of all this, she has an intensely breathtaking poetic style that holds audiences captive, and strikes straight at the heart.
Great work, Dawni. Please don't ever give up on your dreams. -- by a wonderful deviant who chose to remain anonymous -- dACompliments.
You are a bundle of wonder and goodness. Whenever I see you doing something it's with determination and love. You are bounding and exuding such a positive, lovely energy that is truly remarkable. We've only just started to get to know each other, but I all ready know that you are an amazing person who strives to help others. ♥ -- by the beautiful and amazing IrrevocableFate.
bloodawni has always been a really kind and caring person, on top of being really talented with such moving and inspiring poems. Just as inspiring is the strength and determination to carry on in life rather than get her down. Even in her 'down' moments, she never gives up and never lets its affect her optimistic side, something which takes courage as well as strength.
Thank you for being such a wonderful and inspiring friend Keep up the good work -- by a wonderful deviant who chose to remain anonymous -- dACompliments.
*bloodawni is a talented and modest individual with a heart of gold. -- by a wonderful deviant who chose to remain anonymous -- dACompliments.
*bloodawni is one of the kindest and bravest people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. On top of which, she is incredibly talented! Definitely a deviant you should know. -- by the lovely RiseandBe
"~bloodawni, while a fairly new addition to my own watch list, has ensnared me in the beauty of her words and left me wanting--needing--more. There's a sense of real life to her pieces that is bound to leave readers breathless; the emotions pouring from each word is enough to knock a reader over and make it hard to get back up until the end. With a kind heart and an enthusiasm for participation that can't be beat, ~bloodawni is one deviant you should definitely keep an eye on!" -- by the beautiful TwilightPoetess
Dawniface, you are one of my favorite people here on deviantART. You have so much strength, courage, and love in your heart. You are such a beautiful person and your poetry is almost as good as your pure heart. But, not a lot of things compare to your loving spirit, lovely Dawni. You are an amazing person and I love you. You inspire me to give more love everyday. -- by the wonderful chromeantennae
I've written this several times, apparently writing about myself is difficult. I caved and asked my partner to help.
30s -- female -- Aussie (Caboolture, Queensland) -- defacto -- diagnosed with mental illness -- mother to 2 butterfly children -- crazy/weird/'special' (not to be confused with the aforementioned mental illness) -- cheerful -- loving -- cheeky -- friendly.
I believe in a llama for a llama, but I don't watch people simply because they're watching me & I don't do fav-for-fav trades. Please don't feel obliged to fav my work or watch me just because I gave you a random llama/fav/comment/whatnot. Fav or watch me because you like my work by all means, though!
PS, a million, billion thank-yous to the wonderful SilverInkblot who made the pretty boxes for me.
|Please consider giving me a llama rather than thanking me if that's what you're here for (and know that if I haven't already given you one, I do reciprocate), but you're very welcome either way. |
Feel free, also, to start up a random conversation!