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Welcome to the Sharing Project!





Fishbone no.3 by Taro-KCuriosity killed the cat-walk by CatalinPrecupAxisMundi (detail) by AstralManor


:bulletred:THE GOAL: to become a community to spread a wave of commenting, feedback and critiques around deviantART.

:bulletblue:THE HOW: encouraging members to share their artwork with each other & giving feedback to his/her peers.

:bulletred:THE WHY: feedback is an important aspect of art. It helps the artist to grow and learn with each other!

:bulletblue:FEATURES: check the entire list of TheSharingProject's Feature Series HERE!

Moon Pie by thegirlcansmileThe One You're Looking For Is Not Here by RowyeDiana (Artemis) by Lotta-Lotos


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See all the deviants and artworks featured on the group HERE! :heart:





Currently recruiting for the Moderator/Curator Team! Send zungzwang a note if interested on taking part of this group's team. :heart:
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Continuing our goal of surfacing and promoting amazing work from around the deviantArt community, I am proud to present TheSharingProject's third weekly poetry feature. Please stop by the pages of these artists - whether they be new community members or known and valued friends! :dalove:



Just a step away from meJust a step away from me
An invisible full, is contained in the distance,
that does not make me hear your voice,
that does not allow me to touch you,
what it presents itself to me as reality.
An invisible full, made of walls,
bodies, sounds, voices,
dust.
Yet you are so close,
enough to be able to smell your perfume,
I just close my eyes and now I see you,
I just stretch my arms to be able to embrace you,
I just listen to the silence and feel that you already
you're talking to me.
fog and dust and dirtHow many of my friends killed themselves before we even met
throwing their aching souls against cliffs of stones so smooth even
the roots of the trees couldn't hold on,
breaking their nails dragging their fingers
through the fog and dust and the dirt that they brought down after them
that would bury them
at the bottom.
I fell to my knees like an ugly movie,
crumpled to the ground because my bones were
only erect with tensely stretched skin,
and the wind had suddenly stopped.
On my mattress I spread my arms and legs
and offered the smooth surface of pain to whatever had taken Kyle
but it didn’t want a body so unbroken
so I broke myself
as though that would affect change.
The deep gashes he left behind
bore light through the people who felt his absence,
a terrible light so bright it hurt to look at
or bare.
I tattooed it on my skin,
an indication of the precious pieces
I carry in myself,
though it doesn’t have his eyes to see the mountains and lakes,
or his heart to skip a be
In TimeThermodynamics
Stealing fleeting energy
You curs'd entropy
Coalthe low croonings of storks sink through filthy summer air;
he sees reflections of people who are not him in windows and puddles
once the town's lights have gone out;
he sees the miners file out at night, though they don't see him.
tossing under creamy bed-sheets
plum in the face; gauze tied over his eyes,
bottles and bottles of green glass line up
and spiral through his vision during his fevers.
Canta el corazonPequeños movimientos, tan largos e intrincados en las corrientes de aire, eran más que suficiente para empujar los cúmulos por el cielo. Arriba, los cálidos rayos del sol acariciaban la superficie esponjosa y reluciente. Abajo, las olas encrespadas de los mares bramaban, y a los costados, los extensos continentes se movían lenta y bruscamente. Los tonos de gris eran intensos, casi desafiando a la realidad del mundo. Se escuchaba un silbido constante, como el de una melodía, mientras el viento desfilaba por las calles y las casas, llenando la tierra y los pulmones de todo ser viviente.
Dentro de uno de ellos, latía el corazón de una diminuta criatura. Sus nuevas manos se cerraban y abrían lentamente, mientras era retocada y amoldada con amor. Células, tejidos, órganos. Todo tenía un momento, un orden, una sujeción, una razón. Los ojos, para ver, las orejas, para oír, la nariz, para oler, la boca, para hablar, y l
TundraThe vastness of sunrise in the tundra whistles to him in a lonely way;
Steeped in mourning, he exhales, squinting and shivering,
Chanting the same rhymes that he's been singing for years.
At noon, a flock of geese flap overhead;
He glows, shouts:
"Hey! Stop!"
They soon pass and his features are slack once again.
Night dives deeply and early; blue shadows creep down from the highlands, settling into cracks in the ice;
There is nowhere here to hide from the scouring eyes above, save for in sleep.
Sleep lightly, coiled like a snake, for still the fingers of plague coax and plead in these hours;
Dark things horned and hoofed walk about him past dusk and breathe heavily.  
Still the wind whittles down the rock and whips through his fingers;
Still the dry air burns and cracks his face; he supposes it's nothing major, despite the eventual numbness.
It is so silent that at times he hears wild orchestral music and thinks certain thoughts; he wishes he didn't.
In the dead of gloom, a voice
Come, take my handCome, take my hand, I’ll lead the way
Through darkest night, through grayest day
We’ll face all pain and all your fear
Through barricades, the last frontier
Until steep hills and walls decay
Should sunless roads lead us astray
Or smothered thoughts your smile betray
We’ll make it through, we’ll dry your tear
Come, take my hand
A remnant smile each time you weigh
How long this lasts, how long its stay
Your breath is deep; your eyes are clear
Your time has come; the end is near
Come, take my hand
third shiftthird shift
Before the dawn awakens,
the ashen weight of
incense laden clouds
hang heavy, leaning
on factory rooftops
and candlestick smokestacks.
A water tower slouches
compressing the damp
frigid air, pressing down
on the speckled frost
covered, frozen ground.
A dissolving florescence
spills from gated doors
and locked windows
seeping through bars
and fences, falling on
the concrete sidewalk.
The shadow shapes
of hunched workers
passing in procession
in the repeated ritual
every morning praying
worshiping a new religion.
The Last of the Dead LeavesThe last of its kin
Awaits the brush of a breeze,
Precious and willful.
the ghost of Walking out from St Dunstan’s,
or lighting they say,
in which there’s no rush
but not to hyperposition
with a busker or a bricked window.
By the stour, staring at
a highland cow, angst
at an adjacency with wires
out to chartham hatch and
what is more or less a friendship
in a manner of speaking
far beyond an idiom, crooked
and split across the skull
back, oozing an ochre that
whiffs of living badly, in
gnostic glow from a parish
chapel quite unsure. I’m
sat in the park between
dominos and the mail depot,
busting for an accident
to happen, the jet engine
tripped miles above and my yawn
toward as if to catch.
I’ve a whale in my belly,
I’m in the belly of the whale,
I’m shouting for a diagnosis
on the ringroad. Swimming
like a cum deposit down
the leg of the county, I’m
lost in the Liffey of the
Stour, to the mudflats of
Sturry out past Asda and the other
sweatshops, where there’s
crackle and kettle drum
of low pylons, and the tip
can be hea





:heart: The Poets :heart:

Tazunee, ClamShellHeart, M0T0M, palastic, dolunaylupus, Kathleanore, Lostboysmee, ethanw60, peninsularity
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Comments


Add a Comment:
 
:iconkathleanore:
Kathleanore Featured By Owner Jan 12, 2017   Writer
That's such a nice concept for a group! :)
Reply
:icontazunee:
Tazunee Featured By Owner Jan 11, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
Hi!
Thank you for the feature!
Reply
:icondamhsagaoithe:
DamhsaGaoithe Featured By Owner Jan 11, 2017  New Deviant Hobbyist Writer
You're so welcome! And we're glad to have you on board!
Reply
:icontazunee:
Tazunee Featured By Owner Jan 11, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks! (◠‿◠✿) 
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