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About Literature / Student i want to believe.Female/United States Groups :icona-thoughtful-pie: A-Thoughtful-Pie
A place to think <3
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lucy by Adagiobunny lucy :iconadagiobunny:Adagiobunny 5 4
Literature
shipwrecked
the purple night nests under my tongue
& i hide from lamplight, afraid
of the shadows it casts.
there's a book hiding too, with snowy bones:
face down beneath the bus stop bench like a waterlogged crime scene.
i pretend not to notice the things that need saving.
at the red light, holiday music cracks through windowpanes:
tonight, the world has chosen to be loud.
i hide my hands from the weather in worn mittens
wondering why people bottle up blizzards in their throats.
ten blocks ahead,
there's a broken bottle by the side of the road.
glass glints dark & dull against dirty snow.
an empty skeleton:
the words it once housed are long gone
stolen by rogue winds.
:iconAdagiobunny:Adagiobunny
:iconadagiobunny:Adagiobunny 10 18
Literature
outward.
there are valleys
            in your earlobes and jungles in your irises, but i
      was never one for love poems
                     words fall from my lips like
      cloud-happy pebbles drop to
               an ocean
          wave-tossed & then sinking through the thin
                         liquid miles
    & we, we two
           miles of skin & bony fingers stretch between our
       hearts
              beating calmly within our dark, cocooning chests
the darkness presses upon our arteries like
         sleep on heavy eyelids
    weight like watery fathoms, leagues of
            conscious lulled to lightless
    depths
          last night i gazed skyward at the audacious
               moon, dared her to pour her crater-eyed
            tears down my trachea, light my
                   lantern lungs, brighten my ocean-dark
    atria—please—
if you hear the wind of my breath reverberating
     through your aural glen, cradle it like a
  reflection in your pa
:iconAdagiobunny:Adagiobunny
:iconadagiobunny:Adagiobunny 19 26
Literature
the rainchild
, the skin dripped from his fingers & the blood beneath was clearer than the truth, rivulets of rainsong pouring down the storm drain straight to the pacific ocean ; he never needed to cry. "the clouds
shed enough tears for all of us," he told me once and i remember
when i first met him, those arms outstretched & palms like little pools, oases running through lifelines. the fortune teller told him he would only live as long
as the storm
"it's the water in my veins," he said; "it washes away the stardust & we are all drinking our ancestors' ashes, did you know my grandfather tasted," he said, "like raspberry cordial & did you know that freckles
are like nebulae & your cheeks are full of moonlight, did you know that thunder
only claps after the lights go out?"
when i was young i counted miles in the silence before those soundwaves drowned my ears in rumbles. the longer the silence the farther the light & now, my voice is racing to catch up with your radiancy. sometimes we can see but we
:iconAdagiobunny:Adagiobunny
:iconadagiobunny:Adagiobunny 25 41
Literature
mouthful of needles
amidst a copse of pines -
dead carpet
breaking branches.
:iconAdagiobunny:Adagiobunny
:iconadagiobunny:Adagiobunny 10 7
Literature
real footprints aren't made with shoes
one.
she walks down the street five mornings a week, but the
pavement is still a stranger
(her hopes fall in between
the cracks in the sidewalk when she
swings her satchel too high.)
little-girl feet hopscotch through imaginary chalk
squares – she kicks off her sandals and
runs barefoot when her mother isn't looking
(calloused soles love sockless grass-between-the-toes days)
[two.]
gnarled fingers trace distorted
windowpane glass seven mornings a week
(old eyes hide
behind glasses perched on an aquiline nose – they
have seen many childish thoughts skip by.)
she hobbles down the stairwell with a
lion-footed cane and only nine toes, muttering
'we are the stuff of fairy tales'
(mantras are repeated ad naseum, ad naseum, ad naseum)
[three.]
even standing tip-toe, she can barely reach the heavy,
brass door-knocker (made of shell shards and gargoyle teeth)
joint-bones and door-hinges creak in harmony:
'practicing hooliganism this morning,
deary? (we are the stu
:iconAdagiobunny:Adagiobunny
:iconadagiobunny:Adagiobunny 13 25
Literature
society is warped like a two-by-four
i used to hide behind pages, hide in between the three-punch holes and the
too-straight blue lines on looseleaf
paper because that's where i thought i belonged: among the blankness
of ideas i felt but didn't hear, touched but didn't see – oh, they
touched me, they brushed against my eyelashes like
dandelion seeds tumbling through the ether, and the
wind ripped them from their stems and flung them
into the world and then they finally
realized: this is who i am supposed to be, no, this is who i am and nothing
can change that, not even when i find myself pummeled by tsunami
waves that crush houses like we crumple all the wrong words into little balls with our
little fingers, our little fingers that
curl into fists and punch glass windows until the panes have
shattered into a million pieces like the pieces of our hearts and we're left
breathless and bleeding and oh-so-sorry that the
world can't leap out of its orbit and tango with the black hole in
the middle of the milky way b
:iconAdagiobunny:Adagiobunny
:iconadagiobunny:Adagiobunny 17 49
(------) by Adagiobunny (------) :iconadagiobunny:Adagiobunny 56 53
Literature
astray
falsehoods
leave me wrapped
in my foundling shroud, waiting
sightless
self-born
tossed along the wandering
shoreline like
driftwood.
:iconAdagiobunny:Adagiobunny
:iconadagiobunny:Adagiobunny 9 20
Literature
soul-spun thread
little bird has the key to
fly from her cage,
but she's too afraid to turn it
in the lock.
she is a sleeping beauty,
soul taken for a ride on the spindle, and now
she can't unravel her eyelids.
(i wish i could teach her how to
turn back into flax…)
clipped feathers grow back, but
leaving those metal bars behind will take
a hundred years.
:iconAdagiobunny:Adagiobunny
:iconadagiobunny:Adagiobunny 14 17
Literature
to the esteemed mr. owl
to the esteemed mr owl:
i hope you know in your absence that mr squirrel has been hiding acorns in your nest.
i've told him time and time again that your study is a place of meditation and contemplation, not a silo.
each time he responds that he lives off acorns like mr owl lives off thoughts, and therefore the study is a place of survival because mr owl stores his thoughts there.
i have not yet found a hole in his logic, so i was wondering how to proceed.
ever so sorry to bother you at your autumnal residence but things are getting quite out of hand.
your perplexed butler,
bingsley
:iconAdagiobunny:Adagiobunny
:iconadagiobunny:Adagiobunny 5 30
Literature
waking-cat's morning reflection
yyyyy
   yaaaaaaaa
           aaaww
                  wwnn
                       nnn
                          nn
                        what a
                     strange mor-
                   -ning to wake up
         
:iconAdagiobunny:Adagiobunny
:iconadagiobunny:Adagiobunny 355 236
Literature
i have some things to ask you (if you don't mind)
there are things out there you can't see but
things you need to know and i ask you why
is it that when we need things the most we push
them out of our minds and i ask you why is it
that when the rain falls we brood and stomp
about instead of running outside and whooping
with the thunder and dancing to the beat of the
raindrops on the pavement as they fill the cracks
in the concrete and i ask you why is it that we
never think about what the sun sounds like when
its rays beam through the clouds and refract into
rainbows and i ask you why is it that you seek
answers when all you ever wanted was to ask?
:iconAdagiobunny:Adagiobunny
:iconadagiobunny:Adagiobunny 8 32
Literature
side/walk
                            someone told me the side-
              -walk just split and            (i'm blindfolded)
        i don't (know                                  which way) to walk –
i don't (want to                                                  
:iconAdagiobunny:Adagiobunny
:iconadagiobunny:Adagiobunny 9 34
Literature
Dust Bunnies
under the bed the
dust bunnies eagerly await
their dinner, hoping
the darkness will yield carrots tonight.
:iconAdagiobunny:Adagiobunny
:iconadagiobunny:Adagiobunny 9 19
Literature
Simply Disillusioned
Every day the cloth was spread
upon the ancient, mahogany dining table.
I was a child and it did not strike me
how meticulous Mother was about the
stains.
To me, they were part of sitting down to
dinner and eating spaghetti.
After all, even tomato sauce has a sense
of self preservation.
(We all want to make our mark.)
One day, Mother said there were too many
stains.
The new tablecloth was crisp clean
at dinner…
To me, it didn't exist.
I ate on the floor that night
(Thank god the rug only gets cleaned
every other Wednesday).
The next day someone spilled orange juice
on the tablecloth.
When I said I didn't do it,
Mother blamed the store.
I told her she wasn't perfect and spent the
rest of the day in my room.
Mother grew old and I loved her for her wrinkles
but she never realized that
new cloth can't hide memories.
:iconAdagiobunny:Adagiobunny
:iconadagiobunny:Adagiobunny 3 21

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Hold Close by IngridTan Hold Close :iconingridtan:IngridTan 10,327 2,446 Bagan Mist by AndyMumford Bagan Mist :iconandymumford:AndyMumford 331 16 the gang by m-lucia the gang :iconm-lucia:m-lucia 63 23 A Space Within by Trippy4U A Space Within :icontrippy4u:Trippy4U 175 0 Little Landscape 2 by JohnPatience Little Landscape 2 :iconjohnpatience:JohnPatience 959 101 Dr. Weaselhoffer by natamon Dr. Weaselhoffer :iconnatamon:natamon 1,105 76 Darkness's House by Nymm-Kirimoto Darkness's House :iconnymm-kirimoto:Nymm-Kirimoto 15 1 the sequence by m-lucia the sequence :iconm-lucia:m-lucia 55 38
Literature
cosmic awareness observes the finale
that feeling you felt as a child
emerging from the old theater
past many hours of immersion in film
having slipped the genuine world
and lost one's sense of time's passage
multiply that experience
and its essence billions of times...
[you're still not nearly there]
llp - dA - jul2014
:iconalapip:alapip
:iconalapip:alapip 7 21
Literature
automatic riding
i've stopped listening to music when i ride my bike.
my morning commute to work is most often filled with
my cyclic prayer(from tao came one...) linked with focus
words(strength, health, patience, wisdom, direction, empathy).
however, my ride home at night is less structured. my mind
wanders more often than not, and i have on more than one occasion
found my self home without any conscious memory of the trip.
sometimes i think about the tenses of my life(iswaswillbe) or
nothing much at all...or, recently, my attention will be snagged
by the dots and dashes of static and silence that mean there
is a poem brewing.
pedal-creak patterns
over momentum's white noise
wipe the mirror clean
:iconhaijinik:haijinik
:iconhaijinik:haijinik 5 17
Literature
baptistry
standing there:
knee-deep in the sea,
in the rain.
ringed in ripples,
my soul sublimates.
:iconhaijinik:haijinik
:iconhaijinik:haijinik 7 11
Eerie Iridescence by ignotism Eerie Iridescence :iconignotism:ignotism 2 1
Literature
Underappreciated
A moth is beautiful
but none choose to praise it.
Instead, monarchs flutter, and suddenly,
twenty-four lines are written about how
its amber coloring
       reminds you of autumn's heartbreaks
       and winter's futile approach, seizing
       the broken vessel you tried to tape
       together, but to no avail;
its black outline
       reminds you of the eyeliner she wore
       day after day, all perfect and pristine,
       until one day,
       you found her among rosebushes & lilacs
       crying out "Why does it always rain?"
       Where is her sun?
its slender antennae
       reminds you of stilts, splintery and all,
       tall, magnificent, and so easy to
       snap and watch the performer fall from
   
:iconA-Shadow-Rose:A-Shadow-Rose
:icona-shadow-rose:A-Shadow-Rose 53 55
Literature
I think I'm losing where you end and I begin
like a crash victim
that needed one too many
surgical transplants,
I've forgotten
which parts of me are mine
and which of them are
mere donations
from you.
:iconneonsquiggle:neonsquiggle
:iconneonsquiggle:neonsquiggle 25 20
Literature
white noise
this is not a love poem
rather,
a quiet reminder
scribbled in the spaces
between dreams and waking
that the reasons I love you
are still inked on my skin.

my heart has four chambers -
one of them is probably a radio station.
love songs don't come as easily
as anthem rock and afternoon blues,
but transatlantic static never stopped my poetry.
humans aren't quite made for long drives, we like
pit stops and motels clean as they come,
and switching in between stations
but once in a while we like to make road trips
to that place where the crickets can sing.
and in these moments I remember
that screaming at satellites
only brings me back to echoes -
you are
the white noise in my life,
quiet and constant,
filling in my empty spaces.
:iconneonsquiggle:neonsquiggle
:iconneonsquiggle:neonsquiggle 36 16

Activity


  • Listening to: sigur rós - communist daughter - óla
  • Reading: heart of darkness, joseph conrad
  • Watching: foyle's war
  • Playing: cello, as always
my message box remains a constant reminder of the genius you all exude. i'm continually captivated by your artistic passion!

so here i am - making a happy return during a busy spot, between diminishing mounds of snow and billowing homemade capes. the rainboots are getting rambunctious and i've scoped out all the best puddles to jump in - that time of year is coming!

my most recent musical love:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=PXkc2G…

i miss you all! how have you been? also, drop me some music suggestions!

~ada

deviantID

Adagiobunny
i want to believe.
Artist | Student | Literature
United States
lover of trees & the shadows cast on the ceiling.

makes friends with dream-monsters.

hello :)

call me ada, or bunny, or another moniker of your choice, if you wish.
Interests

Comments


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:iconjustbecause62:
JustBecause62 Featured By Owner Apr 15, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
it doesn't look like you've been on here for a while - I don't come on much either anymore - but I was thinking about you & missing our conversations...you are such a well of brilliance...hope you are doing fantastically mdear...
Reply
:iconsame-side:
Same-side Featured By Owner May 25, 2015   Writer
One's birthday is a sign that one is getting older. Celebrate in such a way that others see you're also getting wiser. :D

:cake:
Reply
:iconmoosebag:
MooseBag Featured By Owner May 24, 2015  Hobbyist Photographer
Happy birthday ada,

have a great day/evening with all your friends, family and beloved ones,
a healthy, happy, sunny, glittering, chilled, sexy, creative and successful new year of life
and, of course, some well chosen presents.

:party: :cake: :drunk: :sing:
Reply
:iconmoosebag:
MooseBag Featured By Owner May 19, 2015  Hobbyist Photographer
Quality doesn't mean that you have a lot of followers, or a lot of messages. It means that you’re nice to other people, and you deserve to be happy. If you get this message, someone is telling you that they love you as you are, and they don’t care how much followers you have. Send this to 10 deviants who deserve it. If you break the chain, nothing will happen. But it’s just good to let someone know that you love them!

Hope you're fine and come back with some new submits :huggle:
Reply
:icontrippy4u:
Trippy4U Featured By Owner Aug 14, 2014  Professional Photographer
Thanks kindly, Adagio:iconwineplz:
Reply
(1 Reply)
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