Make a Difference #141

Artists join deviantART to share their art and appreciate others. Due to the many artists out there, it’s easy to get towed under and generally obscured from the public.

Make a Difference aims to do exactly that. This series of articles will hopefully make a difference to you as well as the artists featured weekly. Just by giving one minute of your time to write constructive comments, favourites and even watches will make a difference to these artists.


manages to accentuate colours well in her brilliant photographs. She knows how to capture the softness of subject matters effectively and the concept is wonderfully portrayed in most, if not all, of her pieces too.

:thumb274705733: :thumb276664817: :thumb279006342: :thumb280872220: :thumb259805257: :thumb266337773: :thumb265616542: :thumb267356667:

XWhite-FireX's Gallery


is brilliant at involving personification and metaphors in her poignant literature. The originality of what she writes is evident, especially in her beautiful poetry.

Requiem of the PuppeteerI lost myself
while walking through the skies
So I hooked my paper wrapper
to shimmering strings
And let the puppeteer's rough hands
Entwined in silver chains
Scatter this silky web of mine
That my wandering soul vaguely
remembered
And vaguely pulled me through the forest
like a little
paper
doll.
I lost myself
while sailing on the clouds
So I dangled stars against the beads
that form the backdrop of all I see
And from my neck hung rings of flame
Whose scorching ways carve
such
bright paths
That I might see what
my soul dictates me to see.
I lost myself
while praying to the seas
So I cast my crumpled piece of paper
into a wild lottery
And peeled away a case of mud
And saw the truth.
The smell of charcoal
drifts away
As my wandering soul dictates me to see. ~ An extract from Requiem of the Puppeteer
"I lost myself
while sailing on the clouds
So I dangled stars against the beads
that form the backdrop of all I see"  

MelpomeneThe blind man came to see me
three inches and a hair from falling to the floor
strung up like a broken marionette
by his lonely hawthorn staff...He said
(as he hobbled to my door)
"I wanted to see you."
--one last time before he died, of course.
I let him lean
his airy weight on mine, and with my arm
brought him to a chair.
"Sit."
His wound was bleeding still, shall I say
like tears, like rubies, bright stains against the plain white cloth
wrapped round what once were eyes.
"Let me tell you a story."
I
was not anything once.
Or perhaps I was everything. I can no longer tell.
In the halls of my memories there lives a girl
who could sing and dance every tune the wind
blew through the reeds of grass. It was there
Dancing in the sea of nodding blades
that I met her (and the
:wind)--
a long, long time ago.
We danced and laughed together
and she told me stories
beautiful stories
of Antigone, Medea, Oedipus, Achiles,
and a blind man who could sing like the wind;
--he had told her these ~ An extract from Melpomene
"I let him lean
his airy weight on mine, and with my arm
brought him to a chair.

"Sit.""

Frozen BreadDear myself.
...The news today said that nobody can understand words anymore. So they used pictures, mostly, and a few sounds, to tell us the weather tomorrow and the day after that.
They showed us a crying person who wore faded clothes and no shoes and sat on a piece of driftwood, somewhere in the sea. And they showed us a man, a woman, and three children surrounded by snow, kneeling over a fire with a piece of bread in their hands. And then they closed the news station.
I asked Dad why they didn't give an explanation, but he just shook his head and said the world had strangled itself. Nobody would understand the explanation because nobody would understand the words.
I tried to picture the world with great blue and green arms wrapping around its own middle and squeezing tight. It didn't make sense.
"Honey, listen to me. Words will be dead by the end of today, so everything they represented will die too. But promise me that you will still live like you always have, even if I'm not ther ~ An extract from Frozen Bread
"I asked Dad why they didn't give an explanation, but he just shook his head and said the world had strangled itself. Nobody would understand the explanation because nobody would understand the words."  

VolkesWagondaOtaku's Gallery


is an excellent fractal artist as shown by the pieces featured below and many more awesome pieces in her gallery! There are so many wonderful, different styles and varieties, yet all of them have a great impact in their own sort of way.



CoffeeToffeeSquirrel's Gallery


  

Previous three articles: #140, #139, #138

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