Daily Lit Deviations for August 31th, 2011
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Featured by Ebahr
Passing Into PresentNight descended down upon the city,
And the air became chilled,
A haze drifted in from the country,
Where empty thoughts are filled.
With see-through hands and ghostly stare,
The mist finds me with its silent wave,
It moves slow with its dewy air,
Bringing the smell of earth, the scent of grave.
This ancient mist, this sense, this time,
Guiding us into Autumn,
Turning green leaves into golden shine,
And waking the dark that we've forgotten.
A time of magic, and myth, and fairy circles,
Reminiscing of childhood's dreams;
And as the night among the streets mingles,
We sit and ponder over what it all means.
(Written: 5th & 8th September 2004)
Passing Into Present by Paul-1485
A sing-song rhythm and content full
of imagery gives this piece a rather
Featured by Ebahr
Mostly No Roaches by RussianTim
"Mostly No Roaches (The New American Dream)"
was inspired, as the author comments, by
"a young woman standing with her children
in the front of a motel waiting to see them
off on the school bus" A perfect glimpse into
the social and economic values that many people
face during trying times.
Suggested by: Clevina
Featured by SilverInkblot
Every Dog Has Its DayThere once was a dog who wandered the streets. He was a kindly dog who did not have a home.
Sometimes, he would see families at the park playing with their dogs. How he wished he were one of those dogs. After a time, he decided that he would try to befriend one of the children that played in the park. He was overcome with excitement and haphazardly ran toward a child while yelling "Hello!" over and over again. He had almost reached the child when, suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his side. A man had kicked him causing him to yelp in pain. He never went back to the park again.
Despite that incident, it did not deter him from trying to find someone who wanted him. The dog promised himself that if he should ever find someone to love him, he would return that love a hundredfold.
One rainy morning, as he was searching for food, he happened to come across a pet store. Inside, he saw dozens of
Every Dog Has Its Day by Laugh-Till-You-Bleed
From the suggester: "Although the concept isn't
entirely original, it is written in such a fresh way
with such incredible insight into the dog's mind that
the originality of the concept just doesn't matter.
After reading this piece, I went and played with my dog.
That should tell you something. "
Featured by Ebahr
You're Daydreaming, Tooi.
The end of your driveway is home to a lady made of twigs. She comes out at midnight and sits, stagnant, peering through her branches at your bedroom window. In August she is made of bones.
Your mother had a stillborn, boy, blue as the sky. She named him 'William' and buried him in the garden. The ceremony was legitimate, but you still hear him cry at night. So does your mother. After she carried him for nine grueling months just to have him die, she decided there would be no more ice cream in the house. If she was suffering, nobody was exempt. Still, you steal it from the basement, where your father keeps it in the ice box, and you don't tell your mother. She would just carry on, carry on, carry on.
Poor bird with a broken wing, desolate beside the waters edge, its beak just shy of the ebb and wane of the river. You did not find him before the cat did. Somehow, you feel you have failed somebody very important.
A locket of hair, saved from your first love, hidden underne
"You're Daydreaming, Too" by pullingcandy
A fascinating collection, full of
imagery and imagination that will will
linger with you long after reading
Featured by Ebahr
ComaJoyfully, she looked up. The top of the mountain was shrouded in clouds today, permafrost invisible. She breathed in the pure air, her backpack feeling light on her back even though it was heavy. She was almost at the top. After months of preparation, and many weeks of climbing, this would be the day.
She didn't know if she would reach the top. She had learned while climbing, that distances were hard to estimate. Days felt like weeks, and some weeks felt like days. Some passages seemed passable, but collapsed under the pressure of her walking stick, so she had to find another route. A couple of times, she was caught in storms and got nearly trapped. Those were the worst days: the days she had thought she would never reach her goal.
She grinned and started walking. The air had become thin these last few days and she started to have trouble breathing, especially when she had to put in some real effort like now. Step, poke the ground with the stick, step, poke the ground with the stick, s
Coma by ToshaDaydreamer
Bittersweet is the best way I can
describe this piece: wonderful descriptions
and imagery that will you hold you to the end
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Prepared by: Ebahr