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About Literature / Hobbyist Member Jack Hargraves/archaicMale/United Kingdom Recent Activity
Deviant for 2 Years
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Commissions

Poetry Commissions
These are commissions of verse of any kind, on any subject, in any format.
The commissioner can choose the:

:bulletblack: Length of the poem (up to 5 stanzas)
:bulletblack: Rhyme scheme/layout
:bulletblack: Theme/subject matter (Anything from love to murder and everything in between!)
:bulletblack: Any poetic tropes/memes you wish me to utilize

80 points apparently equals about 0.50 by the way.

Any commission work will be done to my highest standard possible.
I hope to please.
Thank you for reading and I hope you commission me.

EDIT: Money payments may be requested for special poems, and these will be payed through PayPal.

Newest Deviations

Random Favourites

Oh, my favourites... A collection of random pieces I have seen over my time here that have caught my fancy.
Rather eclectic, I feel.

Activity


Infernal: An Ode to Passion

I: The Prologue:

My beaten heart's cased with ice,
My quaking mind afrozen,
O Beloved,
And my sweating palms shake sclerotic,
For fear of holding you.

II: The Passion:

In that horrid Labyrinth,
The cagement of my dreams,
I was enfeared of Erebus' eyes;
Their dank, Stygian gaze so piercing,
And my dreams to such chains were bound.
But one night, a bright night,
Wrapped in Nyx's shawl,
Something fearful shattered the
Daedalic masterpiece of my mind.

T'was a Six-Wing Seraph of Flame;
A formless Hurricane of Fire;
Elemental, furious, unfettered and unchallenged,
A Titan birthed from the womb of Aphrodite which
Shattered my rotten trappings and
Flung me into freedom.
Never had my heart been so broken
And never had I suffered so,
When this Helios of Love
Leapt atop and marshalled
The Flaming Chariot-Wreck of my Heart.

In such a self-destructive act,
The flames of wrack as nothing besides
And, incandescent in victory,
You welded my gaping wounds shut.

And that, o love, is what scares me.
Your searing love frightens me,
Its promise of love so potent as to immolate
Should I even lay eyes upon your breast,
At once terrifying and irresistible.

O, Undying Aristotle!
All your vaunted logic could not save me,
When presented with such paradox.
"Truth is Beauty, Beauty Truth" wrote Keats,
A dubious statement at best,
But could mere Beauty sear my flesh,
Like a dying star's supernovic breath?
Could Truth alone shatter my sight
And blind me with its might?
Indeed, if he were to see my dreams,
Milton would be stricken with awe
And proclaim thee hurl'd out from Heaven's own host,
Your radiance not in the slightest dim'd
And untouchable by agents corporeal.

But enough tangential foppery;
The Great Question still vexes me.
For what should one do,
When faced with such a beautiful inferno?
Should one leap gladly in,
Laughing as they burn?
Should one stay clear, safe and cool
In familiar darkness?

O, Eros! Pray reveal thine solution!
Flames of darkling passion
Fuelled with love so pure,
They lap voracious at my proudest flesh
And open my soul bare
To one first and final embrace.
I cannot resist such infernal passions,
Such devotion and such Love,
And must resign to lose my mind in his arms,
Grateful and Glad of my orgasmic immolation.

III: The Promise:

Thus upon your love-pyre I choose to lie
And as my ashes cool and scatter
To the manifold winds of fate,
We would forever be embraced, my belov'd,
Together interlaced
In the eternal zephyrs of love.
Infernal: An Ode to Passions
An attempt at writing like the romantics. Didn't work to well, but yolo.
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My old story, Expeditions and Intrigues. Would anyone be interested if I were to attempt to restart writing it? I've had a couple of ideas for it and I'd like to get back to it but if no one wants me to then That's fine :)
Just wonderin'.
Love's avatar hath seen fit to appear!
Man such as thee was not made of Dust,
Though nor would brazen Fire, whimsical Air
Or the coyest Water be quite enough.
Thus I plagiarize ancient Spenser;
He and I are found in joyous accord:
I must find a matter beyond censure
And only the Heavens could suit my Lord.
To I, you are the compass by which my
Life-course is set; you are my fixe'd mark
In the skies of passion through which we soar,
To guide me through the sullen, sultry dark.
I grant I've never seen an Angel fly,
But you are my God; without you I'd die.
No. 1
A sonnet I wrote. Final couplet sucks and I stole the conceit from Spenser. GG me. Also might have fucked up some of the iambic pentameter. Ah well.
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And this year, I have been gifted the gift of poetry.
A Collection of Keat's poetry, along with a copy of Machiavelli's "The Prince", a satirical handbook on how to rule a country.
My mother gave me them early. Don't know why.

Anyway, merry christmas. Sorry to all my friends who I won't be getting gifts for, the bank has been a bitch abvout getting me a new card.
Happy new year folks.

P.S. I have written a couple more poems for a certain someone and might upload them if I feel like, as Iago said, wearing my heart on my sleeve "for the 'daws to peck at."

P.P.S. I fucking love Othello, the play that Iago is from. Shakespeare was a godsdamned genius.

P.P.P.S I want Oscar Wilde's children. That is all.
  • Mood: Yearning
  • Listening to: AWP shots barely missing me
  • Reading: The Picture of Dorian Grey + Keats' Poems
  • Watching: Othello
  • Playing: Counter Strike: Global Offensive
  • Eating: Silver Scrublords
  • Drinking: A good cup of tea
Imagine a corpse.

It lies in its tomb, marble and alabaster all surrounding. Its place of rest is grand, much grander than that of its life. Statues of Athenian greats peer down, their white faces wrinkled and creased, while friezes of the worthies of Rome tumble, spiral, fight and struggle round and round the sarcophagus of our subject. The sarcophagus itself is a simple affair, it seems. Lain on a plinth in the centre of this mausoleum of ages, it is a truncated kite made of dark wood (Mahogany, perhaps?) and bound with silver hinges in the shapes of leaves and flowers. On its top surface is the golden cruciform sign of Christianity, inlaid with the name of the occupant. Unfortunately, time and the stress of years has eroded the cross, and the name upon it is illegible. Step closer, though, and you will see something quite odd about the coffin. Its hinges, though surely just as old as the coffin proper, seem oiled and well preserved. Surely a triumph of Renaissance workmanship! However, the coffin is only secondary to our concerns here.

The corpse itself, within its wood-and-velvet bed.

Strikingly, the corpse is extremely well preserved. It is that of a man who appeared to be approaching his early thirties. High cheekbones, pale skin, eyes closed in eternal repose. Judging from his surroundings and his looks, it is safe to assume this man was a wealthy aristocrat in life. He wears simple clothes in death, although a black funeral cloak obscures almost all of his vestments. Oddly, he has no jewellery. One would assume such an aristocrat to have at least a signet ring bearing his family crest, or some other obvious sign of house affiliation. Perhaps he renounced them on his deathbed?
As you stare at the man's corpse, you find yourself wondering more and more about his past. Who was he? His name? House? Religion? Was he a warrior or a statesman? A righteous Christian or a depraved lunatic? His eyes are the most piercing blue, like sapphire needles against your own watery, insignificant irises. Frankly, you think, they're beautiful.
You lean closer, to get a better look. What is this morbid curiosity that has you fixated on the corpse of a hundreds-year-old nobleman? You blink, your eyes going dry from your staring.

Two points of fire, two tiny prickles of sensation. Then you feel weak like a newborn lamb. Eyes foggily aware, you stumble back, falling off of the raised dias on which the man's coffin had been enthroned. A shadow over your vision. A silibant hiss and the embrace of your eternal lover once again.
“Sleep...”
You close your eyes and arch your back, fingernails scraping against the marble floor and you become one. You know you are in danger, but somehow you don't care.
"Sleep, my love...” Comes the hiss again, like honey through your lethargic veins.
You succumb and fall into nothingness, pleasure like none before flooding your vacant body as your mind crumbles.

Imagine a corpse, as it gently lays its new thrall down to rest in its vacant coffin and kisses it gently on the forehead, bloody lips leaving a smear of brilliant red. Black cloak wrapped about, the corpse seems to almost float towards one of the windows of its neglected mausoleum, deep in a forgotten forest. The red light of the sinking sun, as it seems to droop in resignation below the horizon, lights up the dead eyes with a newfound crimson and splashes across the arch of the tomb's door, oozing across a broken and ivy-choked inscription.

"Qui si tr ... ego d'Empio, e lun ... sa eg ... ire."
The Chronicle of Diego d'Empio
So I wrote this up over about half an hour cos I read Dracula and it was pretty cool. Dunno if I'll continue the tale at any point. Just wanted to do something with vampires.
I know it was bad, no need to tell me.
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AscendantLiche
Jack Hargraves/archaic
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United Kingdom
I am a teenage, British guy currently at Sixth Form. I enjoy writing, though I have next to no talent in it and would love to be able to draw and make music as well. Unfortunately, that ain't gonna happen.

I also read Homestuck, and totally don't have a crush on Gamzee and Sollux.

I am a beginner fantasy writer in the process of writing what I hope will be a story the length of a small novel, called "Expeditions and Intrigues". I'm quite enjoying it so far.
([Although it's sort of on hold right now])

If any one has Steam or Skype, please do add me. I'd love to talk to MOAR PEOPLEZZ. :3
My Skype Name: monoprismos
My Steam Name: monoprismatika
And then there's my Tumblr, below.
Interests
My old story, Expeditions and Intrigues. Would anyone be interested if I were to attempt to restart writing it? I've had a couple of ideas for it and I'd like to get back to it but if no one wants me to then That's fine :)
Just wonderin'.

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Comments


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:iconscarlet-tears24:
scarlet-tears24 Featured By Owner Jul 24, 2014  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Dude how dafuq do I follow you on tumblr? I CAN'T FIND THE BUTTON ANYWHERE?!
Reply
:iconascendantliche:
AscendantLiche Featured By Owner Jul 27, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
It's the plus sign at the top right.
Reply
:iconscarlet-tears24:
scarlet-tears24 Featured By Owner Jul 30, 2014  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
 Can't see it 
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:iconascendantliche:
AscendantLiche Featured By Owner Jul 30, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
oh
I honestly don't know how to help you then ;~;
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(1 Reply)
:iconmarloeshi:
Marloeshi Featured By Owner Jul 11, 2014
Thanks for the fav! :D
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:iconascendantliche:
AscendantLiche Featured By Owner Jul 11, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
np
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:icondamaimikaz:
DamaiMikaz Featured By Owner Jun 22, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thanks for adding Challenge day 03 - Mythical to your favorites. I'm glad you like my art :)
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:iconascendantliche:
AscendantLiche Featured By Owner Jun 22, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
no prob
it's pretty
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:iconnipplelickerofjustic:
Nipplelickerofjustic Featured By Owner May 7, 2014
my friend, I have been reding your stories, and I gotta say, your pretty damn good
Reply
:iconascendantliche:
AscendantLiche Featured By Owner May 7, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Aww ty
They're not that good...
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