ReadandBeRead

The group name says it all.

Founded

12

Years Ago250 Members187 Watchers

Gallery

Name Poem

One of the most common names I’ve ever heard is my own, a kind that neither trips up the instructor during roll call nor sparks much interest at a dining hall. A name like “Andrew” is clear, transparent, and plastic. The kind of name that lets me sift like a memory into the background. I have used it all my life, like a kind of cardboard box lifting myself out of it and watching the packing peanuts drift and settle around my limbs like newborn snow, candy floss, and the long plastic straw that curled around itself like time or Eliot’s yellow fog. And there was a kind of distance between “Andrew” and &l

Featured

For My Mother

she is sitting on the stairs she holds her knees close to the center of her body her mother is by the couch her eyes full like a glass of untouched water there are voices in the kitchen -speaking soft she doesn't know them the yellow light of the living room moves with distant shadows she breaths she doesn't think about her brother she doesn't think

Short Stories

World of Mythos WIP 1

Let's start with something we know about our world. We know it as Planet Earth; it is the third planet that orbits the Sun, after Mercury and Venus. It was discovered as one of the most formidable planets to sustain life thanks to its oxygen-rich atmosphere, its vast water source, and the workings of the planet's ins and outs. It has been around for at least 4.543 billion years that we are aware of so far. Humankind is the dominating species, often shifting and changing the balance and Nature of the world. Now, let us proceed to the unknown. We will move forward to what has become theory and tale in the modern-day, to things often dismissed

Chapters

Hello Again

I don't know what to say... Except... Maybe it's time I start to break the silence. Wow; that sounded... really dramatic. Um... Wow; I don't really know how to put this into words. I thought I did--I thought I'd be able to pull this off. Maybe I should put this aside and revisit it when I have a few more ideas. ...No; I'm too lazy and honestly too excited to put this aside. I might not get to it in another year. First off... I just... want to say... There's this journal I made... Before this one and another one; two journals ago, I wrote something when I was feeling down and it wasn't a very good time for me. Several deviants responded kind

FanFiction

Some Nights the Dam Breaks

On most days I flow with the current the grimy tunnel of past pains dammed up in my recesses. But some nights the dam breaks leaving me to trudge— search for the light— once again, lonely blind.

Poetry-Rhyming, Metered and Traditional

On Broken Men

I hope you know, It's not for you When he cries For his mom, who never cared For his dad, too busy rolling. He's not strong enough to miss you. So when he falls To drugs, To the streets, To strange pussy. He's not falling for you. He falls for his mom. He falls for his dad. He falls for everyone he never had.

Poetry-Free Verse

1427 deviations

Seasonal Heartache

You came like autumn The fall is natural Hearts and leaves alike. You stayed for winter Leaving footprints In snow and minds alike. You left in spring Thawing dreams Into streams of lonesome nights.

Poetry-Other

scribbles

While the art teacher flicked through a presentation, the little girl stared up at the row of cabinets on the wall of the dimly lit classroom. Whenever she was in this room, her eyes seemed to stray to them automatically; like the rest of the school, they were brand new, and had pieces of artwork sitting atop them at intervals. She always wondered where the art came from. Were they were done by students? If not, by whom? Her attention was pulled back towards the front of the room as the lights were turned back on. The teacher passed out one sheet of paper to each student and explained the assignment: she would turn on music, and they

Memoirs and Vignettes

Eternal

This is how you loved me. . . seeing you in profile, a crescent moon with hills and valleys of your landscape, eternal night, and the sight, tableau of eruptions that covered me, the whisperings of silence from silhouetted ice trails. . . but I can't say how, one day, you did while never seeing the dark side, and plunder from the Oort cloud; its tapestry changed beyond mem'ry, this is the way you left me. . . but I can't say how, one day, you did while seeing you in profile, a crescent moon with hills and valleys of your landscape, this is how you loved me.

Songs and Spoken Word

Essays

And by their hands shall you know them

i. Long fingers taper, thin between each swollen joint, rounds of bone that can’t be lost, like the purple-scarred stomach skin from one year’s crackers-and-coffee diet, the bass guitar calluses on numbed fingertips, the panic attacks and Xanax collected after ODing on heroin, going heartbeatless in a hospital bed while his veins were pumped with activated charcoal. ii. Like sausage links, his square-tip digits not much longer than my own, but larger, like I thought his heart was. The fingers making my sandwiches, pressing lower back and shoulder blades in a goodbye-for-now hug, wrapping gauze over my wounded skin – the sam

For Critique