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About Literature / Hobbyist Amie ClarkFemale/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 6 Years
Needs Core Membership
Statistics 134 Deviations 2,237 Comments 12,980 Pageviews

Newest Deviations

For sale:
One body,
Thin but warm.
Red hair,
Blue eyes,
Bony wrists.
Soft skin.
Smells like milk and strawberries.
One love poem.
:iconsugarheartedgirl:SugarHeartedGirl 2 4
Washington State Poems
The state bird of Washington is wind.
Everywhere you go, wind, like the pianist fingers
of that boy you used to love, everything is
wind. The seagulls have nothing on Washington's wind.
Like your umbrella, you too are snapped
inside out, reversed, undone.
There is always rain in Washington. Even
in the desert the rain is still there,
pooling like tears beneath the sand.
The mountains grow so tall here because they are always being watered.
There, past the lighthouse on the cliffs-
thunderclouds are blooming like rhododendrons.
Perhaps clouds are a better state flower, because
what do we see more of, storms or blossoms?
:iconsugarheartedgirl:SugarHeartedGirl 1 2
Plums, Peaches and Moons
Is the moon hungry?
What does she eat? Perhaps green
Corn, fresh from the fields.
When the plums fall,
The raccoons kidnap them. How
Do they eat them all?
To the boy on his
Red bicycle, everything
Is blurred with sunlight.
At night the world is
Cornflower blue, and the stars
Hang like sky-peaches.
:iconsugarheartedgirl:SugarHeartedGirl 2 0
First Love
skinny freckled boy who swings from branches, who rides his bicycle through the wheat fields when the evening swells with moon and indigo and the smell of stars
dragonfly blue bruises on his legs and hair like the pale floss inside a corn husk, that gawky boy who chases birds with his hands up in the air as if today is the day he will catch one
he has discovered that atoms are mostly empty space.
now he knows where the hollow inside his chest is coming from, where that wind-through grass sound of something gone is coming from, where the spaces between words are coming from.
yet still he raises up his arms as if in prayer, as it to say
i am calling down the sun. i am calling down the sun and it will fill the empty spaces and everything will
:iconsugarheartedgirl:SugarHeartedGirl 2 3
Recipe for a New Love
Crack an egg.
Pour out the milky way inside it into a large class mixing bowl, setting aside the shells. Sift out the shooting stars for later.
Add a cup of snowflakes and a lungful of radio static. Stir with the branches from graveyard orange trees and add two oranges, with a pint of milk and an axe that has been used to build a waterfall.
Steal back your first love's fingers and the colour of his eyes and crumble them in. Add two childhood homes and a handful of crows, making sure to stir constantly.
Let it set in the inside of a television for two nights and one day, then let cool.
Serve in eggshells, with shooting stars sprinkled on top.
:iconsugarheartedgirl:SugarHeartedGirl 2 0
Puget Sound Poems
i am born from the water.
i am crystallized from salt and old bones
and the ribcages of dead mermaids.
in winter, the water freezes inside me
and in spring i am unmade.
i become the sea wind. i become
the smell of brine and the taste of white water.
did you know the sound has a face?
when you open your eyes underwater
its own stare back at you like open wounds.
but when you break the surface the sting of salt
and the shock of sun
erase your memory.
the first boy i ever loved
did not understand the sea.
he did not know the names of seashells
and the birds that nest between rocks,
he did not hear the high chimes the waves make
when they echo against the cliffs.
how could i keep loving someone
who was afraid of the taste of salt?
questions for puget sound:
what do boats look like from beneath?
how many animals have drowned in you? people? birds?
can you taste or smell or see?
what are tears like to you? you are so similar,
maybe you feel like they're your children.
has any
:iconsugarheartedgirl:SugarHeartedGirl 2 2
Lionhearted Girl
My heart throbs with gold in the afternoon light.
My heart, the lion, swallows the sun
And births it new with the morning.
In the light of my heart, the savanna turns to liquid molten gold.
Chocolate coin gold, Columbus gold, twelve years old drugstore nail polish gold
The gold at the heart of the sun as it goes supernova.
The mane of my heart is a pulsing nebula of star-gas,
A cloud of the blood of a hundred antelope my heart smells of blood and grass and a million dying stars.
When my heart stands, stretches, aligns the vertebrae in its back,
The earth hides behind its mother's skirts and trembles like a bird in a child's hands.
My heart, the lion, roars, and the universe-
Every nebula and asteroid and newborn atom-
Turns to look and at the sight
Crystallizes into gold, everything blooming blossoming shattering swelling bursting into
:iconsugarheartedgirl:SugarHeartedGirl 0 0
Dream Time
How softly the stars seem to glow
When we are on the edge of sleep-
Nothing seems so beautiful as those drops of light
Like spilled sunflower seeds.
It almost aches to close our eyes.
Our hearts say no, please, mother,
Where have all the stars gone?
We forget that they wait just inside the window
Smoothing our hair and kissing our foreheads
As we dream.
Where do our minds go when we dream?
They do not stay, that is known,
Any child will tell you that.
Any child will tell you that they go
To the moon. To the cosmos.
Galaxies upon galaxies of dreamlands.
There, through your grandfather's telescope-
Do you see her?
Your sister hangs,
Suspended like a doll in water.
She is dreaming of a field of sunflowers.
:iconsugarheartedgirl:SugarHeartedGirl 2 1
Your love is open sky.
I watch it like a child watches something beautiful
Through the bottom of a glass.
I tried to catch it,
Set out pebbles and birds and things made of stardust
But all I caught was empty air.
My love was a quarry.
When he spoke, rocks fell from his throat like drowned birds.
I burned them after he left
And they bloomed into daffodils.
:iconsugarheartedgirl:SugarHeartedGirl 2 1
The Seventh Sense
It hangs around them like blown glass,
Alive, throbbing, glowing with some inner heart,
The core of a newborn star.
Where their hands brush it pulses
And the crimson of it makes the air shiver.
In the curve of her neck, her collarbones
Where his eyes rest it is a hot violet colour,
Like a nebula, like a swell
Of cosmos.
And at their lips, at that overwhelming kiss
Of matter on matter, skin on skin,
The love goes supernova;
Flurries of stars and stars and stars all dying, burning
Thrumming like hearbeats.
A galaxy rises from the dust.
:iconsugarheartedgirl:SugarHeartedGirl 1 6
Sky Princess by SugarHeartedGirl Sky Princess :iconsugarheartedgirl:SugarHeartedGirl 3 2 Moth King by SugarHeartedGirl Moth King :iconsugarheartedgirl:SugarHeartedGirl 2 0
Breathless Nights
Enter BIRDY, in a spotlight. He addresses the audience. He speaks simply, but with a deep, aching longing beneath his words.
Have you ever felt alone? Not simply lonely, but utterly, heartbreakingly, world-shatteringly alone? Like there was no one in the universe, in all those deep dips and caverns and rolls of endless blue-black space, except for you? No sound but the low throb of galaxies forming a billion light-years away and the frightened beating of your own heart, no scent but the icy burning of the cosmos, no feeling but the cold, dead numbness of space? If you have, as I am sure is true, you know this: out of that solitude will rise a need so profound your body doesn’t know what to do with it. It travels to your hands and you begin to reach out in your sleep for someone lying next to you who isn’t really there. It travels to your legs and you walk the world a thousand times over for that someone, and they are still nowhere to be found. And finally, i
:iconsugarheartedgirl:SugarHeartedGirl 3 3
Sometimes I Envy Birds
Sometimes I envy birds:
How free they are to fly so high
Above the world, to see it all
Laid out like a glittering quilt
Of skyscrapers and moons of grass
By the side of highways,
People walking by below in clusters
Like salmon heading upstream.
Sometimes I envy birds:
How their wings brush the stars
And they trail the dawn behind them
As they fly.
:iconsugarheartedgirl:SugarHeartedGirl 0 0
The air in Maris’s bedroom is dark and golden, the colour of molasses and almonds and the soft skin of a child’s eyelids. Dust motes hang glowing in the ribs of light from the cracks in the blinds.
Maris raises her hand as if reaching for something, and the honey-light bends around her and stripes her skin in coffee-and-cream. She rotates her wrist and the stripes move with it, and the dust in the air dances. She has taken the ribbons out of her hair and they are scattered on the floor beside the bed.
The covers are bunched at her  waist, and Birdy’s arms are around her neck, his head resting on her cool bare chest. His eyes are closed but he is awake, listening to her heartbeat and the sound of her breath, like the ocean crashing inside of her ribcage.
Maris lets her hand fall and settle just above his shoulderblades, where her fingers trace from memory the tattoo there of the cycles of the moon, from new to full to new again. He sighs at her touch, and tells he
:iconsugarheartedgirl:SugarHeartedGirl 4 3
And the Stars Began to Burn
Oonagh McKay: (Pronounced OOH-nah.) A beautiful prom queen, age 17. Kind and sweet, but vain. More intelligent than she seems and thinks quickly. Loves her sister, Ainsley. Goes far to please others, but knows what she wants as well and stands up for herself. Wears a pale blue dress and has her hair in a plait over her shoulder. Comes to Dreamland after falling into a coma from being hit on the head by a stage light.
Birdy: A teenaged boy with deep red hair and large angel’s wings. Lives in Dreamland and is the silently agreed leader of  its inhabitants. Very intelligent, broods a lot, extremely possessive of things he wants (i.e. Oonagh) Has violent mood swings that can be set off for no reason. He wears entirely cream-white clothes, as do all the others in the group.
Anne-Claire: A pretty woman in her early twenties with incredibly long hair. The “mother” of the group who cares for everyone else. Kind and gentle to a fault, always trusting, a
:iconsugarheartedgirl:SugarHeartedGirl 1 0

Don't hate, appreciate! Please spread the word if you like my work and critique freely, but I will be very sad if you say mean things so please keep rude comments to yourselves. Thank you!

Just kidding please laugh at this it's funny

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Some Lovers
I died on a cold
day, numbed fingers flexing,
grasping at the last traces of
withering in the grate.
I died holding
your hand,
the hand I accidentally fractured
when I pushed you too
harshly near an edge
and you flailed to
find a more elegant way
to fall and then
I heard the scaphoid crack –
but I didn't. I heard the cry
first and the pain came later
but you held my
hand anyway.
I died on a cold
day, but I never felt
so warm.
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Piano book. by unhearted-demon Piano book. :iconunhearted-demon:unhearted-demon 74 28
The Windowless Poet to the Sea
The sky has run behind my back:
and is hiding in my head.
I face a guillotine
and mister headsman,
who is saying:
"your head here" and I think of
I heard you captured in a shell,
I heard you sang against my ear,
sang real well,
sang with a compass in your rocky
mouth of coral and dust,
sang pierced:
of a man who died a god who
lived on this isle of rock and sand
and sea-bird, sea-bird, he called to
two people of sky by name, and
the sun rose, and the moon peered
down, curious.
Sea, Sea, I will write you down one day
perhaps your forehead of sand will wash away
and then I will call to you by name, as a friend
:iconvigilo:Vigilo 9 24
The Holograms
Before Casper we were a quantum band,
an act that only happened when unobserved.
Our drummer maintained we'd split
the world, then took a full-time position
in PR. Auditioning his replacement
round our Crouch End front room,
with his white vest, buffed All-Stars
and holographic principle patter,
Casper shone. 'These,' he said,
nodding at his drumheads,
'are my event horizons;
it's where the beat really happens.'
To prove it, he worked up an almighty storm,
while we puffed on our cigarettes.
Short of a singer, Casper made a call.
Yume Shirakawa, he explained,
would beam in her performance. Jay,
sliding milk down his thin throat,
looked pleased. Dispatched to Budgens,
strangely, no complaints. We jammed.
Matter grew vague, the days came and went.
First gig, a full house, but no sign
of Yume, whom we'd still never seen.
Plugging into our amps, tweaking
Volume, Gain, she appeared, silk-clad,
like a switch had been thrown. Turning
our three dimensional selves to the crowd,
who thought we we
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seasons away
she was a autumns leaf girl,
  with peach blossom hair and lovers eyes.
picked from a cherry blossom tree
  spring was declared her mother, and the scalding
wildflowers of summer her father.
and the winter sleep boy, with that snow angel
  hair and iceberg eyes became the lover
she was always seasons away from.
he was gathered in the snow to be her only,
  the winter boy who gave the autumn girl
her naive lover eyes.
and he pulled the branches from her hair
  and collected her seeds of beauty
and when fall arrived he would play her
  ever changing colors like a violin
with his freezing fingertips.
but she fell, that autumns leaf girl.
  she fell so far she was floating in a sun shower
and she dangled herself from the balconies
  with a rope made of blossoms until she drown
in his titanic waters.
and the winter sleep boy coated the land in a
  snowstorm as dark and cold as his heart,
he covered the
:icontearsfadewithyou:tearsfadewithyou 35 8
A Textual Annealing
A thousand thousand generations
misinterpreting the lightning,
A tumult of attempts, many
mumblings while we burn - each time
most is lost, some survives.
At the whistle of illusion that awakens,
day drops dream on me. I am
thick with swerve: If there are giants
there is a world they walk on.

And for the final faith
to be an inversion: We are
the electricity lunging toward the sky.
:iconexistencewesummonyou:ExistenceWeSummonYou 113 58
Empty Sidewalks
Her caramel complexion
was the perfect companion hue
to the cinnamon-bronze car.
She was hunched, headscarf
paralleling the curve
of the window, shoulders shielding
her infant: a curled
semi-colon wrapped in her arms.
Her eyes were
the color of wet sidewalks,
and as empty
as the night streets.
:iconanapests-and-ink:anapests-and-ink 25 41
From the hollow between havings
there is a heaving; tack of sound
against tick of time and I am sailing
towards stranger you. In a mutual possession,
inside of me it is your ghost growing.
To the answer
there is no access, but
the question is a flourishing
that we'll call freedom.
Into bloom
there was the first break of empty space.
Towards believing
there was the first breath of being
here and now:
"Love, and see God"
between our hearts and the stars
there is a missing link
that knows our marring
makes. I am sailing towards you
in a mutual possession
, in the sky
there is a last love looming,
into me and out of me
as we break and are breaking
there is our intimacy. Love,
in a mutual in flowing of freedom.
:iconexistencewesummonyou:ExistenceWeSummonYou 14 16
:iconrainbowheartplz1: :iconrainbowheartplz2: :iconrainbowheartplz3: :iconrainbowheartplz1: :iconrainbowheartplz2: :iconrainbowheartplz3: :iconrainbowheartplz1:

Please take some time to look through here! These are my inspirations.

:iconbunnyloveplz: :iconcuteicondividerplz: :iconhikawaiiplz: :iconkawaiistarloveplz: :iconcuteicondivider2plz: :iconhikawaii2plz: :iconhave-anicedayplz:




Amie Clark
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
i'm Amie i'm 19 now and i'm only active on here in that i come to crack up at my bad poetry when i need a laugh
:iconbunnyglompplz: :iconcatheart6: :iconpandaglompplz:


I would compare you to a night without stars,
Were it not for your eyes.
I would compare you to a sleep without dreams,
Were it not for your songs.
~Langston Hughes

this is definitely not how that poem goes lmao
  • Listening to: CocoRosie
  • Watching: Supernatural
  • Eating: Sour Patch Kids
  • Drinking: Odwalla Vanilla Protein
My darling dears, I'm sorry, but I can't write at all. Can you help me out? Here I have a list of my favourite words.
Do they inspire you? Or does something else inspire you? Give me a stanza, a line, another handful of words. So now, I leave you with the last thing I've been able to write:
The world glows grey at night,
and quakes slightly,
as though the cold light of the moon
makes it shiver.
I love you! :rose:


Add a Comment:
Bark Featured By Owner Jan 19, 2015  Professional Writer
Happy Birthday! :cake:
Emily-Byrd Featured By Owner Jan 19, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
Happy birthday!
Emily-Byrd Featured By Owner Oct 20, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Are you still active on here? I just stumbled acrooss your poetry, and my soul is spinning. Please keep writing!
LauraMartinArt Featured By Owner Jan 19, 2014  Student General Artist
Happy Birthday!!
oaklungs Featured By Owner Nov 12, 2013
thank you so much for the watch! :hug:
SugarHeartedGirl Featured By Owner Nov 13, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
You're welcome :hug:
pagan-poetess Featured By Owner Apr 9, 2013  Professional Writer
thanks for adding my work to your collection :)
SugarHeartedGirl Featured By Owner Apr 9, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
You're welcome~
mikuhasunefan Featured By Owner Feb 26, 2013  Student Writer
thank you
SugarHeartedGirl Featured By Owner Mar 4, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
You're very welcome :frail:
mikuhasunefan Featured By Owner Apr 29, 2013  Student Writer
I am holding a hunger games role play would u care to join. if u r plz pick a district.
HippieHebe Featured By Owner Feb 10, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
thank you:heart:
SugarHeartedGirl Featured By Owner Feb 19, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
wordeea Featured By Owner Feb 8, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
thanks for the fav :)
SugarHeartedGirl Featured By Owner Feb 9, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
You're welcome, lovey!
winterkate Featured By Owner Jan 19, 2013  Student Writer
Happy birthday :)
SugarHeartedGirl Featured By Owner Jan 22, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks, hon! :frail:
winterkate Featured By Owner Jan 23, 2013  Student Writer
Welcome, lovely!
HippieHebe Featured By Owner Dec 12, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you :heart:
SugarHeartedGirl Featured By Owner Dec 12, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Any time. I love your poems so much!
BlakeCurran Featured By Owner Nov 22, 2012  Student Writer
Thanks for the fave! :)
SugarHeartedGirl Featured By Owner Nov 23, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
You're very welcome!
wh0rem0ans Featured By Owner Nov 22, 2012
Thank you :frail:
SugarHeartedGirl Featured By Owner Nov 23, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
You're welcome~
wh0rem0ans Featured By Owner Nov 23, 2012
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