shebledgreenink

Asyia Gover poetry & prose

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Miss Cora Tucks Her Little Feet Under Her Tail by shebledgreenink, literature

Literature

Miss Cora Tucks Her Little Feet Under Her Tail

She is always gone while the sun is up. And she is always home while the sun is down. There are some exceptions, I guess. When she gives me wet food twice, until my belly is stuffed, I know she is going away. I look over my shoulder at her in the doorway. I know when she puts those heavy things on her feet, when she holds the pointy metal things, that I won’t see her for a while. I give it a test meow sometimes, after I poop, or when I am bored, to double-check that she isn’t coming. I never know when exactly she will come back, but it usually takes a long time. Then when she comes back, she gives me wet food again. She gives me wet food when I tell her that I’m hungry, most of the time. Then I sit next to her, but not too close. I don’t get in the blankets until she holds them open. sometimes she is very still and doesn’t hold them open. She can stay asleep for so long even though there are sounds and smells and touches happening all night! She would never make it in the wild. When she is home and she doesn’t give me wet food, it’s usually because she isn’t waking up. Maybe I was wrong, and she is gone then, too.

Sidonie by shebledgreenink, literature

Letters from Ketchikan - 4 by shebledgreenink, literature

Literature

Letters from Ketchikan - 4

Dear E, Did you know there is a service in hospitals that will give you pleasant coma dreams if they determine you'll need more than a couple days to wake up? I tried it once; it was amazingly lifelike. In the dream I lived comfortably, I had good friends, I made love on a regular basis. I was carefree, lazing about in warm, performed rooms and lounging under trees. Every now and then I saw a rather lost-looking man who stumbled and stuttered as though he'd just been hit with a hammer. I always wanted to talk to him, but found that I couldn't be bothered to step outside of my comfortable life long enough to inquire about his. (in this sec

Letters from Ketchikan - 3 by shebledgreenink, literature

Literature

Letters from Ketchikan - 3

Dear E, Do you ever reach out and touch mirrors to see if you'll fall through to the world within? Do you wonder if the person trapped in the glass will ever tire of mimicking all your actions, if he will ever decide not to obey you and move about as he pleases? It's happening to me now; as I struggle to see into the glass, the distorted silhouette inside gestures to me, signing a message I don't quite understand. There is something enticing about a photograph framed behind frosted glass. Stare at it long enough and you ache to pull the glass away and see the photograph the way the artist did, and here I would have to ask you, is an old, st

Rona by shebledgreenink, literature

Literature

Rona

First, admit this: You, too, just want to be wanted. Now, venture timidly into your trophy room. Tell me how many are still alive. If you are looking into their eyes to see which will follow you, do not; glass eyes will not stare but instead reflect your gaze, becoming more and more frantic. If you are waiting to hear a breath, you are wasting yours. If you have found the thing with pitiful pale skin and a swollen belly― well, you're at least thinking the right way. So you declare it all nonsense and retreat to the music room. You still didn't guess right. The answer was all of them, they are alive the way she is alive, and they will

Kendra by shebledgreenink, literature

Literature

Kendra

The smell of gingerbread still makes me sick. Remembering the nights we spent watching your scented candles dance is almost enough to resurrect my meals. And I don't eat the bread or the cookies, either. I promised myself I'd never think of those things again. The last chick I was with told me that her favorite part of putting on fancy outfits was having a guy take them off. By the time the words reached me, they were in your voice. She was wearing one of those dresses with the skirt made all out of gauze. I almost up and left, right then and there. I liked that new song on the radio until I heard that it was from your favorite band. After

la chaleur, la delicatesse by shebledgreenink, literature

Literature

la chaleur, la delicatesse

"One day I'll be gone and you'll tell your friends how awful I was." That's right, I'll say that you forced me to walk for miles and miles while the evening sun stared me carefully in the face and extracted endless strands of something dark that seeped from my feet and ran down the sidewalk behind me, and even then you wouldn't stop, made me walk until the sun was so low I could have kicked it back up, made me walk as it baked me and turned me yellow, turned you brown. We laugh. And for what? By the time I get to your house, the heat has spent all day creeping in, filling up the spaces your family left behind. You cook dinner and tell me you

things that occur to me by shebledgreenink, literature

Literature

things that occur to me

I could stop the car. I could imagine you haven't yet departed. I could call you and ask when you'll be home, and should I just go in, and did you get that laundry done because I can finish it if not. You haven't been gone so long; maybe I wouldn't even notice what was missing. I could step inside. I could imagine you haven't yet departed. I could excavate the spare key and ease open the door and breathe the familiar smell of mold, of rotting, beautiful old house. The hallways would be mine to roam; I might be a mischievous child again and pawing through your belongings while you're out grocery shopping. I could find a bed. I could imagine

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Sidonie by shebledgreenink, literature

Letters from Ketchikan - 4 by shebledgreenink, literature

Literature

Letters from Ketchikan - 4

Letters from Ketchikan - 3 by shebledgreenink, literature

Literature

Letters from Ketchikan - 3

Rona by shebledgreenink, literature

Literature

Rona

Kendra by shebledgreenink, literature

Literature

Kendra

la chaleur, la delicatesse by shebledgreenink, literature

Literature

la chaleur, la delicatesse

things that occur to me by shebledgreenink, literature

Literature

things that occur to me

Selina by shebledgreenink, literature

Literature

Selina

The sun seems to set on her world about every hour. She is accustomed to the progression of color overhead like long, languid licks of pinks and oranges and reds and blues and greens. Green? In such a world, what else is there for her to do but pull out patches of sky and make dresses? The fabric scraps drift under doors and escape her house, drifting lazily back upward. The dresses laugh at the word "colorfast;" when it rains they bleed through the entire spectrum. There is a world of color beneath her skin, a world where the sun rises every other day. There is a secret entrance of which you have heard rumors, but she won't even tell you w

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The Chalice and the Swords by DamonWakes, literature

Literature

The Chalice and the Swords

And so it came to pass that the Great Dragon came down from the mountains and claimed for his own the golden chalice that had belonged to the late Queen Kasala, and so was most precious to King Rabou. This, he could not stand, for as well as causing him grievous personal pain, it was an affront to the honour of the very nation itself. “Father,” said the young prince. “Let me go and see the dragon!” But the king wouldn’t hear it. Without hesitation, he sent out the greatest of his three knights, wielding the mighty sword Slambring. “Great Dragon!” Shouted the knight, waiting on horseback before the

The Stakeout - Revamped by dragoon811, literature

Literature

The Stakeout - Revamped

He was hungry. Starving, really. He hadn't eaten in an entire week. It'd taken him two days of investigation to discover the one behind the disappearances, three days of straight travel to get to the dingy studio with its blacked-out windows, and he'd been sitting in the small office, waiting, for two days; but Bean never ate til a job was finished. Call it motivation. The scrape of his permanent scruff scratched against the back of the velvet seat he reclined against was plenty comfortable as his head lolled, but he had no need to sleep. Not when twenty-seven were gone, according the Lenticular over his left eye – a gift from The Tec

The Chalkboard by August-Green, literature

Literature

The Chalkboard

We had a chalkboard on the back wall of our kitchen. It was green with a wood trim and big like a front door. It did more harm than good I think. I was nine and my big sister seventeen. Every morning we ate breakfast together across from each other and it was usually the only time I saw her. Every morning mom wrote a new word from the dictionary on it. Winsome. Subliminal. Inept. The word in red chalk and the definition in cursive white. Every morning a new word was there, under the Maxim — a short, pithy statement expressing a general truth or rule of conduct — mom made up and taped onto the top of the board. The Early Learner

Water Tower by Sunset by KarlyNoelleAbreu, literature

Literature

Water Tower by Sunset

I’m going to the water tower up on Raleigh’s Ledges. I can see it from here, and the sun is starting to turn pink and orange, but I feel like I could make it before it gets too dark. You can see the whole city from up there- I can tell from where I’m standing, corner of 4th and Abel. I haven’t ever been up to the water tower, but I always see it. Not something you much think about, I guess, when you’re living below it. It holds water, I guess. I never saw the point in building them so high, but now it stands out like a beacon to me. I will follow it. Maybe someone else will think to do the same. You can see the

L'etable by BazarDeLaNature, literature

Literature

L'etable

Je pris mon premier souffle Mêlé de poussière de paille et de liquide amniotique Et nous nous reconnûmes tout de suite Je tétais son lait en murmurant "maman" A peine un peu plus d'un jour plus tard L'un des gardiens me pris et m'installa avec d'autres veaux Ma mère criait mon nom, je criais le sien Et mes compagnons m'imitaient ou était résignés par le temps Toutes les mamans étaient aux champs la journée Et la grange résonnait de nos pleurs On nous donnait une mixture mélangée à un peu de lait Mais nous n'y reconnaissions plus celui de n

About shebledgreenink

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Artist // Hobbyist // Literature

Dec 19
United States
Deviant for 15 years
Asyia's Poetry Blog
She / Her

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My Bio

Asyia Gover is a writer, artist, educator, and mediator. Her poetry has appeared in the multimedia collection, SEXT (boys who like butterflies, 2011), and anthology zines such as Love and Outrage (2016). She has written and co-directed three stage plays for youth performers, in partnership with Odyssey Middle School. She has taught individual and group classes to all age levels on subjects including cannabis culture, critical pedagogy, and creative language. Her work seeks to capture a queer, third-culture perspective on ordinary life and folk traditions. She and her feline familiar, Cora, have made a home in the liminal space between eastern and western Washington State. Depending on the season, you might find her harvesting fruits and veggies from the backyard garden, walking along the beach at low tide, curled up with a good book, or spinning donuts in a snowy parking lot.

Favourite Visual Artist

Yusuke Nakamura

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

Awich

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Mary Cornish

Tools of the Trade

The green pen, the notebook with the blue cover, and the keyboard.

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shebledgreenink

Mar 18, 2024

Hello world!

2 min read

Well hello again you lovely dA deviants! Been a long time, hasn't it? I'm laughing now when I read back my last journal entry - apparently I was shortly thereafter *not* here anymore. When I used to be active here, I was literally a teenager. A little embarrassing now, but impressive for how much I loved the dA community and how much I wanted to be engaged. Well, obviously a lot has happened since then, and I've learned a lot about writing and about life. The funny thing is, I keep yearning for the way I used to write as a teenager. It felt like the golden age of my work. Even though I'm now accomplishing dreams from that time, I remember how easily writing came to me and how fearless I was to share it online. I think that had a lot to do with my many supportive friends and themed writing groups here on dA. I have felt like something was missing from my writing life, so I'm coming back over here to find that secret sauce. One thing I'd like to announce to you all is that my first book is coming out this year! Stay tuned for more updates and how to pre-order. But I'm a big believer in giving more than you take, so I'm going to spend my time back on this website discovering more writers and digging in to the community. If you've been following me all this time and you're still active, I would love to chat and find out what your life is like! And if you're a new friend and you happen to see this post, thanks for coming along on this journey with me!

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shebledgreenink

Jun 24, 2013

I'm still here! Really!

0 min read

I'm sorry! I really am here. I've been reading messages at a snail's pace! Still taking DLD suggestions! Still checking out lit! I know I haven't been super active but life just gets in the way. Right now I've been working increased hours because we're crazy understaffed, and trying to get everything together so I can move in September. That means I have to get all my important car repairs done, see the dentist and the optometrist while I know I still have insurance, find a home in Bellingham, arrange a transfer to their branch of the chain store I work at, sort out my money for school, pack all my stuff, work out what stuff I still need, a

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shebledgreenink

Dec 25, 2012

winter

0 min read

thanks to everyone for the birthday wishes! extra thanks to :lombregrise: both for giving me my subscription and for renewing it! excellent birthday present, my friend! I'm still here, sort of. recently I've been getting into the local monthly poetry slams just as a fun way to challenge myself. been trying to crank out another play. argh. thanks for being so patient with me :)

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Profile Comments 584

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Happy birthday !!!!

happy bday

hope you have a wonderful birthday.

Happy birthday !

This shadow you feel, should it all be real, has been your incarceration for long enough standing

But you should remember merely to breathe, and let those tears proceed to sharpen your sight,

This I do mean for your tears have cleared your scope such as to grant you so exponentially more

Of the Fields of the Lord, that your clairvoyance has rendered you elevated and soaring

Above the rest of us

This dilapidation of which you are so convinced, you would not leave if the door stood open before

You, would not condemn it for all the ecstasy in the world, it has taught you too much

And that storefront to the World in Love looks now like so much thin ice

I ask you don’t turn from the awaiting course, learn to swim in these unfriendly tides until the

Odd New Romance of this Fallen Atmosphere meets your hands and raises your wearisome weight

Be patient and be glad this Romance is Real and it pines for you, already

TornadoWraith88

Aug 23, 2013

Just from reading through your devID you get a llama AND a watch.

dragoon811

Aug 10, 2013

Thank you so much for the favorite on 'The Stakeout'!! :-D