Daily Lit Deviations for June 6, 2009</u>

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Poetry

_{Suggested by: peterdawes
Featured by: CaronCecilia}

Mature Content

"Ghost in Me" by VictorMadden


_{Featured by: CaronCecilia}
The Trap“Watch out!”
Too late.
My foot falls in slow motion,
Stepping into the emplacement on the ground.
Of all the times to not listen to my mind,
This is the worst.
Huh, strange.
I don’t feel any pain from the device ensnaring my foot.
These constructs, meant to capture bears,
Are supposed to be able to cut through bones
Like the winter chill.
It’s getting warm.
I throw away my parka, all the while
Thinking of a way to spring out of my predicament.
Looking around myself,
I note the greenery.
The faded yellow of the plants
Has been replaced by a more verdant shade.
The once-barren trees now sprout leaves.
Birds frolic among the branches,
Chirping away without a care in the world.
I look down and see.
This isn’t a bear trap:
Spring has sprung upon me.
The illusion of winter dispelled,
I walk off with the breeze washing my face.
“Oops… There goes that flower. My bad…”
"The Trap" by Swords-and-Bandages


_{Featured by ColonelFitz}
:thumb122469849:
"kissing your shadows" by Fiarene-Art


_{Featured by YouInventedMe}
:thumb117885837:
All Growed Up by CornerstoneAscetic


_{featured by: kersee9}
A child's armyI was never good enough
I stood against the wall,
My back melting into the paint
My parents kept me under fire
Shooting Teflon coated word into my ears
“Why can’t you do anything right?”
------------------------------------------------
I tried to shut them out,
Again and again,
Retreating to my room,
Frantically waving the white flag,
Stained with my own blood
I covered my ears in front of the dresser’s mirror.
The reflection mocked me cruelly,
Testament to their assault.
I closed my eyes,
I didn’t want to see tears fall.
I was worse than useless.
I hid myself behind toy pistols,
And they fought to get inside,
To break me down into perfection
I never let them see that pain,
Those open wounds that had no notion
Of ever sealing shut
Perhaps that’s why,
They thought I didn’t hear.
------------------------------------------------
Teen years are considered rebellious years.
I disagree.
These are the years we start
"A child's army " by shadowgriffen



Visual

_{Featured by: Tap-Photo-and-Co}
:thumb124780181:
"wanna play a game" by OneWhoIsLoved



Foreign Language

_{Featured by: Tap-Photo-and-Co}
StilleStille durchdringt des Nächtens die Zimmer,
man hört nicht den kleinsten Laut, wie sonst immer.
Alle Schmerzen vergessen, sind verloren im Traum,
nicht ein einz'ges Geräusch spaltet die Ruhe im Raum.
Alle Schreie verloren in der Kühlheit der Luft,
die sterile Wand, verhängt durch die grüne Kluft.
Bluttropfen kleben auf dem stählernen Tisch,
übersehen, vergessen, noch ein paar Stunden frisch.
Das grelle Weiß der Fliesen macht den Raum nur noch kälter,
und die Uhr tickt weiter, die Nacht wird älter.
Der Blick aus dem Fenster verschleiert durch die Nacht,
wird einem vorenthalten bis der Morgen erwacht.
Stiller Kontrast zum sonst hektischen Treiben
und dem bangenden Hoffen am leben zu bleiben.
Stille verschluckt all die beißenden Fragen,
sie werden hinaus in die Nacht getragen.
Wie die Dunkelheit die das Gebäude umhüllt
und das Licht es am Morgen mit Tätigkeit füllt.
"Oblivion" by aydenleigh



Prose

_{Suggested by: ThomBoody
Featured by: Kitri-du-Lac}
:thumb124562079:
"A Villain" by ThomBoody


_{Featured by tiraldan}
:thumb124675392:
"Three Little Words" by BellaPotter


_{Suggested by Nina-Gatto
Featured by paintedbluerose}
SoftI noticed you since I walked into the room. Of course I didn’t go straight to you, no. I talked to Mrs. Pinnault and her French accent first; it hadn’t left her after 34 years of living over here. I didn’t hesitate to accept, using the little French I knew, to take care of Azabache, a gorgeous, fat, black cat she claimed was part panther. I let my pupils wander to the corner of the room as I put her lilac-scented, wannabe granny hug in my skirt’s pocket. You’re still there.
I walk through the room conversing with who I find in my way, being a good hostess; pleasant, delicate, and polite. I must confess I can hardly concentrate, I imagine you watching me as my back faces you, speculating my name. I’m sure you have no idea I already know yours, I know everybody’s in this room; you’re all in my folder. I let your name slip off my brain and tickle my palate without letting it get tangled in my voice, yet. I think about what to tell you as I move forw
“Soft” by Nina-Gatto


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