fixyourwritinghabits
yeahwriters:

words(on)pages is now accepting fiction, poetry, and nonfiction submissions for the first issue of our literary magazine, (parenthetical). We offer token payment for works selected for publication, plus a print copy of the magazine, which will be designed, printed, and bound by us.
The submissions deadline for the May issue of (parenthetical) is April 23—but don’t worry, if you miss it, we’re happy to consider your work for our next issue in July. Check out www.wordsonpagespress.com/submit for more details about what and how to submit. 

yeahwriters:

words(on)pages is now accepting fiction, poetry, and nonfiction submissions for the first issue of our literary magazine, (parenthetical). We offer token payment for works selected for publication, plus a print copy of the magazine, which will be designed, printed, and bound by us.

The submissions deadline for the May issue of (parenthetical) is April 23—but don’t worry, if you miss it, we’re happy to consider your work for our next issue in July. Check out www.wordsonpagespress.com/submit for more details about what and how to submit. 

cactoids
Dead friends coming back to life, dead family,
speaking languages living and dead, their minds retentive,
their five senses intact, their footprints like a butterfly’s,
mercy shining from their comprehensive faces—
this is one of my favorite things.
I like it so much I sleep all the time.
Moon by day and sun by night find me dispersed
deep in the dreams where they appear.
In fields of goldenrod, in the city of five pyramids,
before the empress with the melting face, under
the towering plane tree, they just show up.

“It’s all right,” they seem to say. “It always was.” They are diffident and polite.
(Who knew the dead were so polite?)
They don’t want to scare me; their heads don’t spin like weather vanes.
They don’t want to steal my body
and possess the earth and wreak vengeance.
They’re dead, you understand, they don’t exist. And, besides,
why would they care? They’re subatomic, horizontal. Think about it. One of them shyly offers me a pencil.
The eyes under the eyelids dart faster and faster.
Through the intercom of the house where for so long there was no music,
the right Reverend Al Green is singing,
“I could never see tomorrow.
I was never told about the sorrow.
Bright Copper Kettles by Vijay Seshadri (via cactoids)
samuelvasnormandy

mirainawen:

fozmeadows:

moni158:

Girl and her dragon growing up and growing old together and stuff. ( I picture dragons having very long lives so it would suck making human friends OTL ) It started as just the first pic but then I wanted to draw the dragon after it hatched and then it just continued from then on…

I am sure its by no means an original concept so I’m gonna add mine to the pile of mythical creature friendships  :)

I’m having a horrible artblock so I’m just finishing up doodles I did at work over 4-5 months ago or something OTL

I broke shell in your hands, as red as a poppy;

your love was a jewel,

your hair the first and only gold

I ever hoarded.

.

In winter, I grew to serpentine loops

in your warm arms;

you held me like coils of priceless silk

and told me our secret name

was trust.

.

later, we basked in the sun

by a sea so immesureably old

I forgot to notice that you, too, were ageing.

.

you taught me to fly with paper wings.

like a stringed kite, you were tethered

to an earth I only learned to leave

because your love bore me up

like a soaring thermal.

.

the first time your heart broke,

I held you close and wondered how it would feel,

when you broke mine.

.

years later, when your hair turned white as eggs. 

I carried you

as you once carried me, your bones as fragile

as the shell I’d long outgrown - 

.

and now you’re gone.

I cannot call you back.

I guard the earth that tethers you

and hope you’ll wait, my darling - 

only wait,

'till I am done.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

theycallmenymocuzimlost
taiikawaii:

trilliansthoughts:

This miniature ecosystem has been thriving in an almost completely isolated state for more than forty years. It has been watered just once in that time.The original single spiderwort plant has grown and multiplied, putting out seedlings. As it has access to light, it continues to photosynthesize. The water builds up on the inside of the bottle and then rains back down on the plants in a miniature version of the water cycle.
As leaves die, they fall off and rot at the bottom producing the carbon dioxide and nutrients required for more plants to grow.

if you don’t think this is fucking rad then get out of my face

taiikawaii:

trilliansthoughts:

This miniature ecosystem has been thriving in an almost completely isolated state for more than forty years. It has been watered just once in that time.

The original single spiderwort plant has grown and multiplied, putting out seedlings. As it has access to light, it continues to photosynthesize. The water builds up on the inside of the bottle and then rains back down on the plants in a miniature version of the water cycle.

As leaves die, they fall off and rot at the bottom producing the carbon dioxide and nutrients required for more plants to grow.

if you don’t think this is fucking rad then get out of my face