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Grace Hammond

Australia

These words
that are my own
Are my blood and
are my bones.

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Absolutely any feedback is welcomed with open arms - thank you for taking the time to check out my stuff!

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Grace Hammond (Australia) published:

Beauty Beheld

PROMPT: Universal Knowledge

In this world of beauty so big and experience so small, it is the ineffable perception of an imperceptible earth which dances on the tongues of us all. 

Seeking Peer Reviews

about 1 year ago

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Grace Hammond (Australia) liked Mysteries Abound by Helen Grant (United Kingdom)

over 1 year ago

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Grace Hammond (Australia) published:

State of Braces

PROMPT: Band Name

They were a Breakfast Club - a group of five kids who just happened to do music at school but who came from different walks of high school life. At first they wouldn't speak, just sit there playing their individual instruments. There was a guitarist, a pianist, a drummer, a violinist, a harpist, and trumpet and cello players. Then, as time passed, they grew to know each other, and they started practicing outside school and playing in each other's garages...

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over 1 year ago

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Grace Hammond (Australia) published:

Midnight

PROMPT: Color Swatch

The midnight sky reveals the ocean of the heavens. Deep and enveloping it grazes the world with its soft touch. The colour of mystery and whispers, the sense of a secrecy between you and the night while the world sleeps, and of being lost in a beautiful abyss. 

Seeking Peer Reviews

over 1 year ago

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Grace Hammond (Australia) liked Quartets by Tacita (United States)

almost 2 years ago

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Grace Hammond (Australia) started following creative.writer (United Kingdom)

almost 2 years ago

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Grace Hammond (Australia) liked Last Breath by creative.writer (United Kingdom)

almost 2 years ago

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Grace Hammond (Australia) liked All I am by creative.writer (United Kingdom)

almost 2 years ago

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Grace Hammond (Australia) liked Cracked Cups and Colossal Blunders by Grace Mary Potts (Australia)

almost 2 years ago

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Grace Hammond (Australia) published:

Numbers

PROMPT: 0-9

0 for the significance I insignificantly comprise 

1 for the universe that is on my interior 

2 for the ones from whom I was born, in love 

3 for the ones with my very blood 

4 for the scars I have so early come to bear 

5 for the years of labour, joy and dread 

6 for the times I spoke those earthly words  

7 for the poems without which my aching heart beats not

8 for the ones...

Seeking Peer Reviews

almost 2 years ago

Published Work

Universal Knowledge

Beauty Beheld

In this world of beauty so big and experience so small, it is the ineffable perception of an imperceptible earth which dances on the tongues of us all. 

Band Name

State of Braces

They were a Breakfast Club - a group of five kids who just happened to do music at school but who came from different walks of high school life. At first they wouldn't speak, just sit there playing their individual instruments. There was a guitarist, a pianist, a drummer, a violinist, a harpist, and trumpet and cello players. Then, as time passed, they grew to know each other, and they started practicing outside school and playing in each other's garages and playing gigs at the local organic smoothie bar. They posted videos on YouTube and they were noticed. The music they play is unrestricted. They mesh genres together - daring to mix rock with orchestral; grunge with pop and dubstep with blues. They epitomize adolescence - the awkward stages of definition and identity and the raging, uncontrollable mess of emotions and confusion splattered on a canvas. 

A state of grace is freedom from sin. But their state of braces is...

Color Swatch

Midnight

The midnight sky reveals the ocean of the heavens. Deep and enveloping it grazes the world with its soft touch. The colour of mystery and whispers, the sense of a secrecy between you and the night while the world sleeps, and of being lost in a beautiful abyss. 

0-9

Numbers

0 for the significance I insignificantly comprise 

1 for the universe that is on my interior 

2 for the ones from whom I was born, in love 

3 for the ones with my very blood 

4 for the scars I have so early come to bear 

5 for the years of labour, joy and dread 

6 for the times I spoke those earthly words  

7 for the poems without which my aching heart beats not

8 for the ones that blend their laughing light with mine

9 for the songs that feed the substance of my soul 
 

0-9

Numbers

0 for the significance I insignificantly comprise 
1 for the universe that is on my interior 
2 for the ones from whom I was born, in love 
3 for the ones with my very blood 
4 for the scars I have so early come to bear 
5 for the years of labour, joy and dread 
6 for the times I spoke those earthly words  
7 for the poems without which my aching heart beats not
8 for the ones that blend their laughing light with mine
9 for the songs that feed the substance of my soul 
 

What I Saw

I was walking to the car. The schoolbag was heavy and my shoes were anchors strapped to my feet. Through squinted eyes I saw it up the hill, the once red Honda wagon, and the beat of my footsteps against the cracked concrete slowed. I shoved my bag into the boot and trudged to the passenger side door. As I climbed in I was careful not to knock my headphones. The engine revved and the car pulled out of the gutter. My forehead rested against the vibrating glass and my eyelids half covered my staring eyes. I heard her voice augmenting beside me and increased the volume of my music. Heavy metal screamed at me and so did she. But in the end, the music always won. Her throat grew hoarse but in my ears the next song played.

The car rolled to a stop. I remained still and tensed for the thud that shuddered the entire vehicle and then...

Six-Word Memoir

Insides

I let burn my artful anatomy 

Questions for a Favorite

"Rope" by Hitchcock

Motivated by Nietzsche's theory that those who are intellectually superior maintain the right to commit murder, friends Brandon and Philip strangle a mutual friend in order to exercise this supercilious belief. In exploitation of the meticulously planned murder, Brandon convinces Philip to go ahead with the planned dinner party commencing directly after the committed crime, thus celebrating, in a way, their own brilliance. To the dismay of Philip, Brandon has purposely invited his old professor Rupert, who although shares their Nietzschean philosophy, is the only person who would ever suspect them. 

Character: Philip Morgan 

  • Who was it that convinced you of/imposed upon you the ideal of "A crime for most, a privilege for some"? 
  • Under what pretences or conditions did you agree to carry out the crime with Brandon? 
  • Why was it that you craved the exercise of the ultimate power; power over the life of another? 
  • Throughout the movie you were extremely nervous and jittery in comparison to Brandon, who...

FACT

Hues

Upon the tentative kiss of solar wind on the exterior of earth’s
magnetic field, a distortion occurs in our atmosphere which allows
remnants of the sun’s majestic rays to enter at the north and south
poles.

You have always despised the cold. The stinging way it clings to skin
with icy teeth and injects itself into the bloodstream. Your oversized
coat was what captured my deriding eye the day I had simply slipped
into a faded sweater. I gazed at you over my National Geographic as
you stood in the line, your left knee twitching sporadically. The
faintest of tremors peppered your voice as you ordered your double
shot short black, and I wondered if this was due to your delusional
perception of the cold or a nervous habit triggered by a compulsion
disorder. With fumbling fingers you grasped your coffee close to your
chest and began your shuffling dance through the decaffeinated crowd;
your limbs compressed and your features...

A History of Everything, Including You

In Our Time

Time was not created as was the earth. The existence of time does not rely upon the ability of humans to observe it. Before there was physicality, or light, or dirt, or breath, there was time. The interminable, inscrutable, inexplicable phenomenon of time. 

Then there was dust. The gathering of matter and substance in the creation of a perpetually beautiful and imperceptible earth. The formation of spilling bodies of water and the excavation of cavernous depths and the initiation of love between the deep ocean and the lustrous moon expressed entirely through careful fornication and the lingering caress of luminescence. The establishment of the potentiality of interpretation and wonderment. 

Then there was us. The meek observers convinced that our habitation of this vibrant organism is what allows it a definition. We perceived the beauty around us and imparted our own footprint; a personalized indentation in the naturalness and serenity. From each of our first breaths to our dying exhalations, our existence...

A Universe in Passing

She's not in the crowd. 

They weave their bodies around her as thread through fabric pulls. A spilling mass engulfing space, they brush past one another with their eyes on the ground. But she is not one of them. 
She is aberrant; impartial to their ceaseless desire for rapidity. Their blurred faces reflect in her eyes, but she does not feed the flames of their urgency. She feels the heat on her skin and inhales the bitter smoke, but she does not succumb to its blind agitation. She does not relish in the indomitable yearning, does not carve a piece of the fire to heal the cold in her own heart.

She simply beholds, her perceptions contributing to the interminable expanse of thought and memory constituting her mind. She is stagnant, but she is vibrant with abstraction, and her eyes entomb conceptions touched by her gaze alone. 
She is small; a tiny creation amidst an infinite sea of concsiousness. She...

Five Novel Titles

Titled

  • These Hands I Broke 
  • In Limerence and In Pain 
  • The Dying of the Veil 
  • Home of Hearts 
  • When Suns Collide 
  • The Broken Ashes 

While It Lasts

The body I have is beautiful. The way I can move it and feel the movement. The cells that coat my being acting as sensors to tether me to the world in which I live. The blood that runs beneath my skin; I can feel it, I can feel its warmth and it fills me up. It keeps me alive. I can feel my breath. I can feel my breath as I have never felt breath before because now I have so few left. And I can taste the fear in my mouth, in the air that I breathe. It floods in through my teeth but I choose not to inhale it, as I never knew I could. I can choose not to taste the death that gropes at my lips. I choose to feel the world that is living and the me that lives in it while I still am.

And it is so beautiful.

And I feel beautiful...

That Sort of Person

Humane

She likes to separate herself from the mundane through the versatility of her pity. 

Confess

I confess 
I am a wolf that stalks the shadows of the wind 

I plead my guilt 
For I howl to a moon I tore out of the sky 

I bear no pretense 
That I live free from falsity 

I admit 
I clean my teeth with my tongue til savagely white they gleam 

I accept 
That my skills in sharpening knives I used to sharpen my lethal talons 

I understand 
My jaw restricts me purposefully from shredding what my claws should not 

I will stand true
That my tongue has slipped and spilt the deepest shade of red 

I bow my head 
And welcome regret 
For I trust myself 
That my guilt holds hands with reason 

The Unknown

Poverty

I don't know much about poverty
Living with scars from fear 
Of each meal being this week's last 
Of my mother depriving herself for me 

I don't know the feeling 
Of hunger sinking in its teeth 
Of running my fingers over skin stretched thin 
And touching the bones beneath 

I don't know the sound 
Of my father crying at night 
Of the wailing of my brother 
Or the silence of still eyes 

I don't know the yearning 
For a roof over my head 
I don't have to wonder 
What it is to sleep with a pillow 

I don't know the pain 
Of watching my sister waste away 
Of seeing eyes sink deeper into skulls
And bodies turning into skeletons 

I don't know poverty 
I don't know its face 
I don't know it's voice
Screaming my name
And for this I am grateful everyday. 

In Waiting

It’s twenty to six and love hasn’t come
It knows as does cupid how surely I wait
Arrows protrude from skin yet don't burden
Still the heart beats melancholy in absence


The raging on the drums approaches steady from abroad
A flame that flickers won’t reach the eyes from the heart
A moment of stillness is what shrouds the spaces
Between each deafening thunder as they pound


In memory I will retain what you said
Back when your words meant more to me than breath
Of all the pairs of eyes to ever bring light to colour
Yours are those which are etched into my brain


Some are born deathless and revel in the madness
And others feel the yearn but it’s smothered by reason
They run for the fire but recoil at its touch
They wonder who is it? when life comes knocking


Many stars are remembered behind my eyelids
The sky is brushed by a lingering light
Heaven...

Touches

A touch is an echo, which, like whispers, leave gentle tendrils of memory caressing the mind. Sound fades, grows distant, and becomes lost in the abyss that is the unknown, and the tender strokes become less and less remembered. Recollections of a touch linger only when it was felt as sweetly as a kiss or as sharply as an abrasion. Hailed, it lingers. Reviled, it lingers. Peripheral, it fades. When time scampers on and touches are felt and forgotten, it is often the faded for which we long the most.   

Why I Write

Big and Little Reasons

Why I write is a difficult question to answer because in truth I don’t think I really know. I don’t know why words have more meaning to me than the modest definitions that can be found on google. I don’t know why I find them so intricately beautiful and alluring in their simplicity. I don’t know why I, in my vanity, enjoy the appearance of words almost as much as I enjoy the feel of them on my tongue and in my hands. But I know that if I were to describe myself, I would use words. There are many who would create artwork to symbolize their defining emotions; pictures, images and sculptures bursting colours and sounds. Words in physicality have no colour. But for me they paint with colours more vibrant and lively than all that my eyes can behold. And to me, the sounds that emanate from the thoughts sparked by words are louder and clearer than any...

What I Saw

I was walking to the car. The schoolbag was heavy and my shoes felt like anchors strapped to my feet. I saw it up the hill, the once red Honda wagon, and the beat of my footsteps against the cracked concrete slowed. I opened the boot and shoved in my bag, and trudged to the passenger side door. I climbed in, careful not to knock my headphones out of my ears. The engine revved and the car pulled out of the gutter. My forehead rested against the vibrating glass and my eyes stared blankly. When I heard her beside me, I increased the volume of my music. Heavy metal screamed at me and so did she. But in the end, the music always won. Her throat grew hoarse but in my ears the next song played.

The car rolled to a stop. I remained still and waited for the seemingly distant thud of her slammed door and then the second,...

Starlight

Through my darkness, her light stretches. She stands alone amongst the ocean of black that floods my mind, the eternal abyss in which I drown. But unlike me, she is not ravaged and tossed by the ceaseless waves, she does not struggle against the current that threatens to consume my soul. She stands; strong and proud, as around her the darkness surges. Her light, although dim to my eyes at a hateful distance, is my sole reminder of a world devoid of this shadowy sea. She is an anchor, her brightness unwavering, to a place where such beauty is imitated. But as I cling desperately to the promise of her light, I begin to understand that she is the single purest entity that I have ever known to exist. Her figure flawlessly luminous is unparalleled by the brightest sun. And as her radiance reflects in my eyes, I become acutely aware of the decreasing distance between us. Or rather, the...

New Year Competition

An Innocent Love

When she dies, the baby screams. As the floor crashes open and the rope loses its slack, the child wails in protest against the thudding noise. It tears its gaze away from the warmth of the mother’s chest and raises its eyes to the swaying body displayed before the crowd. The dangling limbs and the spine protruding through neck. The piece of bloodied meat strung up in the butcher’s window.
“Hush now, sweet one,” the mother sings, and ushers the baby’s head away from the broken woman. She glances with distaste down the line of swinging bodies as she bobs the baby up and down on her hip. The deathly row of wooden planks upon which stand the instruments of peace. A seemingly endless line of those necklaces that silence. Around her the swelling crowd shouts and cheers, and the stones and rotten fruit thrown by those closest thump against still warm flesh. The mother observes with dull eyes as...

New Year Competition

An Innocent Love

When she dies, the baby screams. As the floor crashes open and the rope loses its slack, the child wails in protest against the thudding noise. It tears its gaze away from the warmth of the mother’s chest and raises its eyes to the swaying body displayed before the crowd. The dangling limbs and the spine protruding through neck. The piece of bloodied meat strung up in the butcher’s window.
“Hush now, sweet one,” the mother sings, and ushers the baby’s head away from the broken woman. She glances with distaste down the line of swinging bodies as she bobs the baby up and down on her hip. The deathly row of wooden planks upon which stand the instruments of peace. A seemingly endless line of those necklaces that silence. Around her the swelling crowd shouts and cheers, and the stones and rotten fruit thrown by those closest thump against still warm flesh. The mother observes with dull eyes as...

Starlight

Through my darkness, her light stretches. Standing alone amongst the ocean of black that floods my mind, the eternal abyss in which I drown. But unlike me, she is not ravaged and tossed by the ceaseless waves, she does not struggle against the current that threatens to consume my soul. She stands; strong and proud, as around her the darkness surges. Her light, although dim to my eyes at a hateful distance, is my sole reminder of a world devoid of this shadowy sea. She is an anchor, her brightness unwavering, to a place where such beauty is imitated. But as I cling desperately to the promise of her light, I begin to understand that she is the single purest entity that I have ever known to exist. Her figure flawlessly luminous is unparalleled by the brightest sun. And as her radiance reflects in my eyes, I become acutely aware of the decreasing distance between us. Or rather, the merciful...

New Year Competition

An Innocent Love

When she dies, the baby screams. As the floor crashes open and the rope loses its slack, the child wails in protest against the thudding noise. It tears its gaze away from the warmth of the mother’s chest and raises its eyes to the swaying body displayed before the crowd. The dangling limbs and the spine protruding through neck. The piece of bloodied meat strung up in the butcher’s window.
“Hush now, sweet one,” the mother sings, and ushers the baby’s head away from the broken woman. She glances with distaste down the line of swinging bodies as she bobs the baby up and down on her hip. The deathly row of wooden planks upon which stand the instruments of peace. A seemingly endless line of those necklaces that silence. Around her the swelling crowd shouts and cheers, and the stones and rotten fruit thrown by those closest thump against still warm flesh. The mother observes with dull eyes as...

Grace Hammond's 29 Likes

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13 Likes from Others

State of Braces

Liked by 1 person

Midnight

Liked by 1 person

In Our Time

Liked by 3 people

Hues

Liked by 3 people

A Universe in Passing

Liked by 3 people

While It Lasts

Liked by 1 person

Poverty

Liked by 1 person

Touches

Liked by 2 people

Big and Little Reasons

Liked by 1 person

What I Saw

Liked by 2 people

Before

Liked by 3 people

Before

Liked by 1 person

Starlight

Liked by 1 person

Good neighbor

We like your photo and your biography.

Earned over 2 years ago


Self editor

You've published multiple versions of the same piece

Earned almost 3 years ago


Follower

You're following over five other writers.

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Supporter

You're following over 10 other writers right now.

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Admirer

You've followed over twenty other writers!

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Leader

You're being followed by over five other writers!

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Super star

You've got SO many followers - more than thirty!

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Publisher

You've gone live!

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Prolific

You really are prolific - you've published over ten pieces already.

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Favoriter

Love your work - you've read and favorited over ten pieces published by others

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Popular penman

Very nicely done - you've got over ten favorites.

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You've reviewed!

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