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About Varied / Student Member SeaPlumeFemale/United States Group :iconpoeticalcondition: PoeticalCondition
A safe place to express yourself
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I sincerely appreciate any business from this quarter as I don't really receive any income from my art. If posters aren't your thing, I also have some of my artwork for sale on mouse pads, electronics cases, etc. at*.

I've been going through upgrading the quality of my prints a few at a time, so if there is one you are interested in, please let me know and I can try to make a better copy available if I haven't yet.


SeaPlume has started a donation pool!
338 / 6,500
:star: If you donate 5:points: or more, I would be happy to critique one of your pieces as a thank you! Just note me with your donation amount and the piece you would like to have critiqued.

You must be logged in to donate.


Color Sketch (2 Objects or 1 Portait)
Sleeping Giant by SeaPlume
Sketches are pencil or pen, hand-drawn and scanned onto the computer. I will edit the picture before it gets to you to ensure the best possible quality. 

Please see my commissions journal if you are interested in prices for other combinations of objects and/or characters, including full-body portraits.
Black and White Sketch (2 Objects or 1 Portrait)
Curiosity by SeaPlume
Shadows by SeaPlume
Sketches are pencil or pen, hand-drawn and scanned onto the computer. I will edit the picture before it gets to you to ensure the best possible quality.

Please see my commissions journal if you are interested in prices for other combinations of objects and/or characters, including full-body portraits.
Fan Fiction
I will write fan fiction for Doctor Who (10th and 11th), Sherlock, Harry Potter, Artemis Fowl, Ranger's Apprentice, Merlin, and other assorted fandoms (feel free to ask).

The price is for one page of writing (about 500 words). Additional pages are the same cost (200 :points: each).
Multiple styles and forms available.





Artist | Student | Varied
United States
Flag Counter .: Read the comments :. Stamp by Beti-Kot I Love my Watchers. by Hurricane-Hannah

You can also find me on Archive of Our Own, FanFiction.Net, FictionPress, and LiveJournal.

If you want to know a bit more about me and my art, the wonderful kristinaelyse wrote me a feature here.

You can get most of my prints as posters or designs on clothing, electronics cases, etc. by following the link to my shop below.

Holiday Traditions and Poetry Screams

Fri Mar 14, 2014, 10:28 AM
Here are the winners of PoeticalCondition's Holiday Traditions Contest and dreamsinstatic's Fifth Annual Poetry Screams Competition. I have not yet heard back from pokemonsonic345 (first place in Holiday Traditions) and brokengod--veins and Pailei (first and second place, respectively, in Poetry Screams), so expect another journal coming soon with their wonderful work. Congratulations to all winners from both contests: your poetry is amazing!       

Holiday Traditions


I am primarily a fiber artist -- I love to sew, knit, spin and generally create things with natural fibers -- but you won't see that kind of work from me on dA. My primary focus here is poetry, and I write in a variety of ways. I love form and dabble in it often, but I wouldn't say I'm particularly skilled in form-writing. I enjoy writing free verse, and glory in adding meaningful structure to my free-verse poems. I am definitely a student of writing, and I know my writing has a long way to go before it will be truly mature.

A frozen January -- coldA frozen January -- cold
In Spirit -- I lie down,
And see my Child come to the world,
A Rose in Heaven sown.
Lifting her high -- as Sacrament,
A Blessing -- in the air,
I touch my lips to baby toes:
So sweet the taste -- so fair
The Child -- enchanted laugh peals out.  
My self-perception calls --
Remembrance of the Mother mild
inside the stable walls.
The coming of this Lamb brings out --
An intimacy which --
Redeems from winter tired soul,
Turns Spirit poor to rich.
I hold the Child -- upon my lap --
The Gift of winter Flower,
Humbled and brought to tears by this, 
The Answer -- to my prayer.
        Flirting with PersephoneYou pop the pomegranate
seeds into her sweet mouth.  
Her tongue on your index
finger makes you crazy.  
She invites you to visit
her mother, and you move 
in close to lick the juice 
from her dripping chin,
wondering how this blazing
abyss could be hotter
than her snow-white skin.
        Stone FruitI build my poem
with words upon words,
a stone upon a stone upon a stone.
My poem grows the seeds
for a thousand fruit trees,
each tree with its words,
each word with its stone,
each stone with its seed,
a poem upon a poem.
To get my poem
take down a stone,
take out its seed
and plant it.  Flesh comes
from the rock,
water like a stone.
Go stone by stone,
seed by seed.
Gather the fruit.

Off the roadEyes fixed on the road, 
I take the ramp for the interstate,
and apply the brake hastily.  "CONSTRUCTION 1,000 
FEET," the day-glo diamond indicates,
and traffic has piled up a mile
behind the road work.  
The flagger on the median leans on a "SLOW" sign, and I do
slow down a bit more, zip into a careful merge,
urge the car on gently, close up
against the car ahead.
More effulgence catches the sun
on bright cones and barrels directing the traffic
into cattle chutes.  I brace myself
and continue forward.  The workers break for lunch.
I think the heat gets to them,
as they take out bologna sandwiches and bananas,
chocolate milk and Tastykake pies.
My dad, back in the late
seventies, wore cutoffs and went shirtless
on the line, but dress codes have changed,
and these men and women wear out
long jeans and Carhartts, chambray button-downs
and perspiration-soaked tees.  Only
the cumbersome work boots remain the same.
Often, when I pass a scene like thi
        ErosionI think your dying
is like the ocean,
scouring away
at crumbling dunes.
Each drop of water
is a moment of anguish,
dragging you closer
to the torrent of captivity.
Sand through the hourglass,
a grain,
a grain,
a grain.
        A RisingMy daughter pads across the sand,
dips one toe into frigid water.
Waves lap against her feet
and nip her ankles.
Her coltish legs carry her in.
She shrieks and laughs as the water
comes up against her knees,
running to catch the whitecaps.
The water rises. At nine years old,
she is allowed to swim on her own.
I keep my sharp-eyed vigil
at the water's edge.
At last, she plunges in, careless,
free, unwary of my sun-squinted gaze.
Pushing against the power
of deepening water, a foot slips
and she is head over heels, rolling
with the strength of the ocean.
Grit in her teeth, seaweed in her eyes,
she sits on the sandy bottom, among the breakers.
In time she will stand,
brave the ocean, the fears,
my love,
and fly up,
her gleaming face to the sky.


dA isn't the only place I share my writing in - it is, however, the only place I share my poetry in, and poetry is one of my preferred ways to express emotions, mostly free verse, simply because rhymes just aren't my strong suit and I prefer to write the words down the way they come, not trying to pin them down into a specific pattern. There's the exception of a haiku here and there or maybe a bit of concrete poetry, but it's in rare cases only. 
I admire the people who can work with patterns and make it feel effortless, since that is something I haven't figured out how to do for myself.

paper girl reflectionsI am very light and much too fragile,
that is a problem - even though I know,
it makes me look very pretty when the light's just right,
nevertheless it is difficult -
it makes me very quick to jump
or quiver or maybe even fly away;
be careful with those sweeping gestures,
or you might very well sweep me off my feet.
I am so easily distracted
and even easier destroyed,
I dream all the time and music
makes me dance, as does the wind.
Whatever you say, I will remember
but I can't promise to understand, dear,
what can I say? I am but a paper girl,
I look pretty but I won't last.
      This Love is a Big CatI struggle to put
this feeling into words -
to pin it down and force it
into the submission of
orderly syllables -
when I grasp it
it grows out of my hands,
and sometimes I feel
it'll swallow me whole -
but all it does is lick my face
curl around my feet and purr
while playfully batting at me.
It's refusing to be reduced
to mere, lifeless words -
I write down
I love you
I never want
to stop loving
all you are

in variations (there are hundreds of ways
to try describe this) until my wrist aches
but what I get is but a show of teeth
a feral kind of smile, laughing at me.
And I know I'm just holding onto
the tail of what this is,
because it's bigger
it's wilder
it's more
than just drawing hearts
around your name or cover
my fingertips in ink trying
to get it down into confessions.
All the while it walks beside me
soundlessly, a silent protector -
or maybe, a companion lending me
its strength (too proud to be
reduced to letters and syllables,
refusing to be as easily tamed
       The Ice Queen admits DefeatWhen tiny hands waved Winter goodbye
she didn't much care, she waved back,
laughed, and blew her fog and snow
right back in the air.
But Spring is here, we've met him!
The tiny humans said, pointing at fresh flowers
while the mountaintops were sugary white still,
making it difficult to tell what those two
were fighting about this time.
Winter met Spring again and this year
seemed to have pushed him and his warmth
his overwhelmingly colourful smile
away, tried to hide it behind heavy clouds.
What is it, Winter?, the humans wondered,
Why are you holding onto us this year?
The answer were winds that made them quake
down to their skinny, shivering bones.
Then one day, very suddenly
Spring took Winter's hand in his
and kissed the top of her knuckles,
melting her icy touch on Earth.
"Every year", Winter glared, "you undo me."
But Spring just beamed at her, rolled out
a carpet of flowers for her to walk out on
and replied "No more than you unravel me."
Winter made sure to

humans and swansI promise you:
       only humans
       romanticise swans
       for being stubborn enough
       within their tiny bird-brains
       to not leave their partner alone
       until their dying breath
       (or how honeybees
       communicate by dancing).
Just us; we human few -
       we adore to cling to forever's
       and to vow to be swan-like
       in our stubbornness to stay
       but we hardly ever are.
Swans don't exchange rings,
nor promises -
       they just decide,
       no words involved,
       to stay right w
     a cup of fearDeath knocks on my door
and I invite him in -
"tea or coffee?"
Souls scream and bones creak
when he sits on my sofa,
scythe securely in his lap,
holding his hot chocolate.
Death -
a curious fellow,
he knows many tales,
and hidden under his hood
his face might've been smiling.
"Curious mortal,
for your foolishness I might as well
give you another day -
be careful when you cross the street tonight
and I will not take your soul -
not right away."
I smiled and thanked
and jokingly offered to kiss his feet
but he pointed his scythe at me instead.
"Don't play games with me", he murmured,
"for there is only Death."
And out he went, leaving me
with an ashen aftertaste on my tongue,
a cup filled to the brim with hot chocolate
and fear.
     sad shoesthree hundred
and eighty-four
have been sent
from Auschwitz
to Germany
take a pair
it's only

wear them;
walk a mile
and tell me
how you feel

Poetry Screams


I write poetry, mostly, in traditional forms. I love to rhyme to the cadence in my head. My gallery also includes a small bit of photography, hand made jewelry, abstract digital art, and candy sculpting.

Drop My Heart And Hope To DieWith strength of steel
Your words impale
You gut me
And to no avail
I try to hold
My bleeding heart
Tightly enough
It's death to thwart
But holding tightly
Is in vain
It only magnifies
The pain
I drop my heart
And hope to die
Breathing still...
I know, not, why...
With lightening force
Your eyes attack
Years of love
Now burnt and black
Crisp remains
Of nothing more
Than brittle mem'ries
Of before
When was it
At first you knew
I was no longer
"It" for you
And how, this secret,
Could you keep
Then hold me tight
And drift to sleep
     Notes and LettersWith her violin, she lulled him in...
Her soul in every note.
He recognized the anguished,
Wordless, melodies, she wrote.
She swaddled him in sorrow,
She magnified his pain...
He was drowning in the notes,
That pooled in him like rain.
There was no concentration,
No sleep had in the night...
For each of her sad melodies,
The lyrics, he would write.
Composing them each evening,
When sleep could not be found...
These wordless, mournful, melodies,
Her tortured strings would sound.
She'd never even met him,
She'd never had a choice,
Mute, since birth...she sings to him.
The violin, her voice...
She knows it makes no sense...
No way he'd even wonder.
Her mother never told him
Of his giant, teenage blunder.
When all were down on paper,
His heart in every note...
He e-mailed her the lyrics,
And letters he had wrote.
She opened up the e-mail,
And wiping back the tears,
Reading words, that she had dreamt,
She'd find in here for years.
He turned on his computer,
And read the words she wrote...


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Add a Comment:
xUnfortunate-Soulsx Featured By Owner Aug 27, 2014  Student Writer
Happy Birthday! :heart:
SeaPlume Featured By Owner Sep 10, 2014  Student General Artist
Thank you so much! I've been away from dA for a little bit, and it was so cheering to find your birthday wishes when I got back. :heart:
xUnfortunate-Soulsx Featured By Owner Sep 10, 2014  Student Writer
Don't worry about it. I understand. :heart: Hoping you had a real nice day!
A-Shadow-Rose Featured By Owner May 20, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
SeaPlume Featured By Owner May 23, 2014  Student General Artist
No problem! Great work.
A-Shadow-Rose Featured By Owner May 23, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
:blush: Thanks! Same to you.
SilverInkblot Featured By Owner May 18, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for the faves :D
SeaPlume Featured By Owner May 23, 2014  Student General Artist
No problem! Great work, as always.
LeftUnfinished Featured By Owner May 4, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
I appreciate the fuzzy llama!
SeaPlume Featured By Owner May 4, 2014  Student General Artist
Of course!
MarcoEmma Featured By Owner May 2, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you for the fave!! :love:
SeaPlume Featured By Owner May 2, 2014  Student General Artist
Of course! Nice work. 
MarcoEmma Featured By Owner May 3, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks! :D
akai-yari Featured By Owner Apr 19, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you for the llama badge : )
SeaPlume Featured By Owner Apr 28, 2014  Student General Artist
No problem!
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