#Alliteration is one of the many #literary devices you’ll find at play on Prose. One of our recent #writing challenges posed the prompt: #write the longest alliteration sentence in the world. Hard to #imagine? Look for it among the full scope of work posted by hundreds of talented #writers on the @prose.pub #app! (The link to a free download is in our bio.)

#passion #poetry #prose #prosepubspiltink


Literary apparel for your bookish life

Storyarts by Tory Tissell

Alice in Wonderland infinity scarf, Dorian Gray infinity scarf, Pride and Prejudice t-shirt, The Raven writing gloves, Persuasion writing gloves, Little Women writing gloves, The Secret Garden intinity scarf, Jane Eyre infinity scarf, Sherlock Holmes intinity scarf, Wuthering Heights light weitght scarf.

It’s so much darker when a light goes out than it would have been if it had never shone.
—  John Steinbeck, ”The Winter of Our Discontent”

Your eyes is the most alluring thing that I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s beautiful yet it’s mysterious. Just like how the moon hides in clouds. Just like how the sun creates unsafe yet breathtaking flares.

Your lips are venom yet I want to taste it. Just like a bitter alcohol that I would be willing to get drunk at. Just like a drug that I could take no matter how much it is. Just like a poison, yet I want to have even if I know it will kill me.

Your skin is lightning—it can burn and kill me just after I touched it. Your skin is velvet yet it’s a flame that I’d be more than happy to touch even if I know it can turn me into ashes.

Your laugh is like a classical music playing in a vintage radio. It is simple, romantic, priceless. Just like how priceless happiness is, just like how simple an old province turned out, just like how romantic every novels are.

Your hair is like a river that is always beautiful no matter which direction it takes. Like a river that I want to soak myself in, eventhough I may drown. Like a clear river that is rare, yet once found, gets everyone’s attention.

Your breath is the air I take— I am dependent of your life, I am dependent of how much happy you are, I am dependent of how much sadness you’ll have. Your breath is my heaven for you are my life. Your breath is my everything that I am willing to end my life once you ended yours.

—  a.r., Six ways to confess to the person you can never have.
Literary,” I should explain to the accidental reader who might be perusing this while on the toilet, is defined by the Oxford English Dictionary as “words in a row I have read that are objectively better than the words in a row you have read.
—  Taken from a delightful smack down by the brilliant Lyndsay Faye on the recent piece (of crap) Ruth Graham published in Slate criticizing adults who read YA. 
Who Could Ever Love A Wallflower?

Who could ever love a wallflower?

With her lips sealed most of the time,

When all the things around her,

Seems to be frozen in time.

Who could ever love a wallflower?

With her shy and awkward state,

Who’s always on the outside looking in,

Through a thin glass that can never be seen.

Who could ever love a wallflower?

Who doesn’t stand out in place,

One who’s always invisible,

And always moves in her own pace.

Who could ever love a wallflower?

Who’s heart was broken and torn,

By a boy she thought her forever,

A lover who turned into a stranger.

Who could ever love a wallflower?

With pain and sadness in her eyes,

She’s used to feeling that way everyday,

But still hopes that a boy will change that anyway.

Wrote this poem months ago. I was in the nurses’ station on a quiet night shift. The staff told me to nap for awhile. I couldn’t sleep so I wrote this.