50% off for a limited time!

Get Core

Theme

Display Mature Content

Suppress AI Content

Get Help and Send Feedback

kajigoddess on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/kajigoddess/art/Sakura-Rainbow-574991374kajigoddess

Deviation Actions

More by kajigoddess

kajigoddess on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/kajigoddess/art/Marin-Karin-526114097kajigoddess

kajigoddess on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/kajigoddess/art/Flower-and-Koi-59067580kajigoddess

kajigoddess on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/kajigoddess/art/Akemura-Hyoryouyama-59596680kajigoddess

kajigoddess on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/kajigoddess/art/Three-Eggs-and-a-Handkerchief-125257206kajigoddess

kajigoddess on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/kajigoddess/art/Walls-of-Paradise-Page-1-149877330kajigoddess

kajigoddess on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/kajigoddess/art/The-Whale-175522353kajigoddess

kajigoddess on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/kajigoddess/art/Pink-and-Purple-87916517kajigoddess

kajigoddess on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/kajigoddess/art/The-Young-Man-and-the-Tower-91058047kajigoddess

kajigoddess on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/kajigoddess/art/From-the-Mist-59293648kajigoddess

Suggested Deviants

brassteeth

Literature

The Farmers Son

We sat sipping grappa as the storm clouds rolled in from the ridges like the smoke from some great unseen inferno, the wood walls and shingles of the house complained to us in low groans, of the wind coming up hard, through the valley, and there was flickering light from a candle, and she told me how light from a prism dissects into different colours that correspond in some way to our bodies and that all of life was a rhythm and I believed that part, and I believed there were stars beyond the sight of man on any grey day and that they might hold some greater secret than prisms or rhythms or any question a farmers son could ever

Literature

Late Afternoon, Dublin

Kingdom I sit on the slippery stone steps, at the gates of my Father's heaven. My back to the cold wall enough, that men in dusty pants and mud-laden boots can thump past, their tired, weary legs fly fast across my freckled face. Father inside, far end, a stool-throned King, his face not fat but swollen, and sometimes our eyes meet through cloud and darkness, when the door swings open to let another thirsty angel in or out, for in this chamber, the trip from Hell to Heaven is measured only by the length of a glass of dark ale or a honey coloured shot of sour whiskey. Outside Angie skips back and forth across the

Literature

Forgiveness Economics

Genesis But for the small purple stain on its border, the banknote was non-descript. It had a value but men value things in different ways and by different means. It had a value, but its value is not it's story. It landed on the church plate face up, coming to rest softly on the flat silver base amongst the loose change like it was tossed to the cloth of a gambling table, soundless but with a small sense of resignation. A man paying for luck, a man asking his God for a favor. It came from the wallet of a small sad man, who feared the Good Lord daily. The banknote was the weekly price of his penance, the bill of sale for those half-remembe

HaveTales-WillTell

Literature

Alzheimer's

His house is made of crumbling slats of rotted knotted oak peeling paint and weakened joints. The wind blows unfettered through unshuttered apertures dragging fresh sunlight in and memories away. Even on the clearest days he visits the front porch less and less often. He prefers to explore those rooms further in where tide and time have yet to reach.

Literature

Actinium Dreams

Y'all have any idea how downright frustrating it is to be the granddaughter of one of the most powerful and celebrated superheroes ever — Ulysses Randall Martin, the iconic Mr. Uranium — and yet have no special talent of your own? I mean, it's not like I don't have my own elemental superpower: like almost all of Grandpa's progeny, I do. But how much good is the ability to produce hard-hitting Alpha and destructive Beta rays if you can barely control it and never quite turn it off? At least I'm not as bad off as my son Frankie; I love him to death, but when left alone the poor boy is totally unstable and downright dangerous: the wor

Literature

Who Cares About...?

WHO CARES ABOUT YOUR MISTRESS' EYES? (A Rebuttal to Shakespeare's Sonnet CXXX) Why should it matter in the least if her Lips are coral red or pale pink? If suntanned breasts are worrying you, sir, You need your head examined, one would think. And you honestly believe her cheeks and hair Detract because they differ from the norm? I doubt you'd find another who would care; For as they are, they are indeed well-formed. As to her breath and voice, I will concede That reeks and rasps as adjectives fit well; But Listerine will satisfy her need, And huskiness in speech, a flaw? Do tell! You love her, faults and all, or so you've said—

Suggested Collections

poetry

Literature

Featherdance (Poem)

Listen closely, and you may hear The sound of sacred fire. Its ancestry flickers in a thousand Colors, all within the hearts of unborn heroes. Somewhere deep inside legend, A fringed master slumbers. Its breath sequesters beneath its beak As it dreams in molten gold. Six score, it has lain in wait For its kaleidoscopic guardian. A spirit akin to its veined own, In suit and solemn as he. The skies grow dapper without The grace of its marbled wings And the elegance of the feathers That heal the lame and the ungainly. Its dogs look toward the heavens, Listening for its sacred fire. The hours and the days atrophy And crumb

Literature

Lavender Town

What is that? What do you hear? You look as if You've seen a ghost. Let them speak to you; All their tormented souls Wish is for a living heart To become one with theirs. The plague of sorrow racks These doleful townsmen, As they wander vacant streets With hunched shoulders. He is crying for his mother; Can you feel his tears? You cannot, for you—you— You are like all the others. Please, be their guest, And let them creep beneath your skin. They mean you immortal joy, And no harm shall haunt you. No harm shall haunt you, But they shall instead, Their stoicism patient as they Wait for you to crumble. He is

Literature

Trust

Trust. It's something earned, Not given. It's like an ember of my heart, Placed inside yours To hold and protect. Extinguishing it or throwing it away Will break our bond, It may never be repaired. Don't try to steal an ember, For it's not rightfully yours Until I personally place it in your chest. Once it's there, It grows and strengthens Until it's a fire. A fire of trust That can't be extinguished That can't be thrown out. It will always be there, Linking me to you.

Literature

Thief King

By the twiddling of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes. A demons tale, a shadow lord. The King of Thieves and his deadly horde. A creature of darkness, his wraiths abroad, A simple summon brings forth a God. A defiance of justice, a child of theft. A lover of gold, and a bringer of death. With silver eyes and heavens hair, With a smirk to match, and a deadly glare, Dance, dance, dance 'round village full of death, Swoon to the king with your very. Last. Breath.

Literature

Inhuman Resources: Chapter 1

Cloud Computing "You ready?" "Yeah, Dobe," I replied. "Start it up." The portable generator chugged hollowly for a moment before finally rumbling into life, a brief green flicker from the computer bank announcing its success. A curl of exhaust issued forth, and to my nose seemed to fill the whole office block with its petroleum stench. Even this, however, was nothing compared to the sensation that accompanied it; subtle, but far more potent. The computer had not been switched on for some time, and a number of scheduled tasks had accumulated. In my mind's eye, I perceived them, though the screen lay cracked and broken on the floor: toppled

Literature

Oniria Bestiary Entity Testing - pt 1

CONTEXT: CREATED REALITY #UNDEFINED: “Oniria Omniverse” ENTITY CREATION PROCESS INITIATED. NAME IMPUT: “Oniria Bestiary” PROPERTIES: “Access to all contextual entity information from extra-contextual entity known as AirborneTerror, Ability to interact with sentient USER entities contextually via thought interface and manifest itself extra-contextually through interaction with AirborneTerror entity” FIRST DIRECTIVE: “Classify, Describe and Define” SECONDARY DIRECTIVE: “Omit Extra-Contextual information when accessed from Contextual sources, unless requested to define extra-contextual entit

Poetry

Literature

Ich bin

Ich bin, der kommt, ich bin, der geht, ich bin, der immer schon hier war. Ich bin, der wacht, ich bin, der spricht. Ich bin der Hauch vom letzten Jahr. Ich bin die Nacht und bin die Früh. Ich bin der Mond (die Sonne nie). Ich bin das Wort, ich bin das Buch, ich bin, der all die Worte sucht, bin der Fürimmer, bin der Moment und der die Zeit manchmal verpennt. Aber ich bin. Ich bin der, alles, der nirgendwo zu Tod betrübt und liebesfroh. Ich bin, der kommt, ich bin, der geht, ich bin, der immer bei dir war: Ich bin der Wind in deinem Haar.

Literature

A Sudden Flight

Ink-black birds scatter, Writing lines of free verse Across a paper sky.

GhostOfTheEmptyGrave on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/ghostoftheemptygrave/art/Existing-848491101GhostOfTheEmptyGrave

Sakura Rainbow

kajigoddess

Published: Nov 28, 2015

176 Views

fractalart gimp rainbow sakura

Description

A delicate fractal by Apophysis in front. Rainbow background added with Gimp.

Image size

1024x768px 883.69 KB

Comments0

Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In

DeviantArt - Homepage

DeviantArt Facebook DeviantArt Instagram DeviantArt Twitter

About Contact Core Membership DeviantArt Protect

Developers Advertise Terms of Service Etiquette

Careers Privacy Policy Copyright Policy Help and FAQ

Watch Team and join our Community Group for the latest updates and activities.

Join Community