Daily Lit Deviations for December 11^th, 2010

We are proud to feature today's Daily Literature Deviations!
You can show your support by ing this News Article.
Please comment and the features and congratulate the artists!


For all of the featured artists: If you receive a DD for one
of your pieces featured by DLD please note KneelingGlory.
We will include you and your piece in a special recognition news article.

Poetry

_{Featured by: binoculars}
afterhoursand your words are like a corset and the more we talk the less i breathe
constricting whale bones prod at my ribcage and reform my figure perfect
hourglass figure eight and i'm still not impressive enough, i'm never to you
i hear the train that had gone missing when we spoke yesterday, and i
wish i could fight these feelings of nostalgia but waves of tar crash over
and i'm stuck wallowing in your cresent moon eyes (they're never full)
if you were aiming for vindictive then you've already hit the bull's eye
"afterhours" by crushasphyxia

<sub>This poem wonderfully creates the sensation of being constricted
and of feeling trapped.


Suggested by indiana-w
Featured by Maudlin-Mandolin</sub>
The Telling of UktenaPainted, the silence envelopes,
the night descends like a blanket.
The fire rises into embers, farther up
and warmth reaches into the heavens.
Hushed.
He speaks.
"Many years ago, back before my grandfather's
father, there was a beast. She lived within
the water, deep down where the sun cannot shine.
Her hiss was like the thunder, and she had the power
to summon down the rains. Her scales were as bright
as the ceremonial fires. She was as long as the mountains
are high and seven small suns lined her belly. Under
the seventh sun-spot was her heart. This beast
had fangs that were as long as man's arm; with enough
venom in one bite to slay one hundred sturdy men.
She had two horns on her head, and inbetween her brow there
was a stone that shone like a diamond; all of which she
wore as proudly as if it were a crown.
Many men had tried to take the stone from her brow,
called the Ulun'suti; but none of them succeeded.
Men became enchanted by her dark eyes, throwing
aside their want for the Ul
"The Telling of Uktena" by metalwaya

_{A wonderful Native American legend, full of descriptive imagery and
colorful word choice. As said in the words of indiana-w, "It's a nice narrative
poem containing a lot of traditional elements from the mythology that inspired it."}

Prose

_{Featured by: Kitri-du-Lac}

"Speech" by ForestKittyCat

<sub>This short exerpt discusses a common problem for many people. It makes
good use of sentence structure, alternating between short and long to increase the
pace of the story. The use of bold is also clever, echoing the phrase in the mind in
the same way the heartbeat echos in the ears when you panic.



Featured by: Kaz-D</sub>
the best hugger in the worldif you wanted to know how it felt, I'd tell you to lie on your side and wait until the teardrop crosses over the bridge of your nose. wait until that tear hits the pillow and listen for the sound. you have to be in a quiet room because you have to be able to hear that sound to understand. the point is, it's a quiet sadness- one you don't really speak of until it gets louder and begins to cut into you. and even as you write the words, at this point, you're pressing the pen harder into the paper because, well, it's like a whole different person is crawling into the depths of your body, talking to you about death. you just have to sit there and let her do her thing until she fucks off. on these days, you tell him not to worry, but they are when he should worry the most.
these are the days when, all in one piece, I can write about panic attacks and the boy who wears the most comfortable sweaters, and I can get away with it. because my head is everywhere and it's just one thought after anot
"the best hugger in the world" by Awasteof-paint

<sub>the best hugs in the world are so often the ones that feel like a hug
within a hug. Awasteof-paint Describes this beautifully with this emotive
piece of prose.


Featured by: SadisticIceCream</sub>
CartwheelsI stood on the front porch, heart racing. I clutched the railing with white knuckles, my fear fresh from the latest of many panic attacks. I struggled to breathe, slowly in, slowly out, just like my counselor had instructed. The therapy wasn't helping so far, and that scared me more than anything.
Slowly I started to hear the voices of people walking by, and I relaxed slightly. The normalcy of their conversations calmed me more effectively than anything else I knew. I kept the radio on 24/7 for that very reason.
When I started to recognize faces, I knew the worst was over. Mrs. Krane knelt studiously over her flowerbeds across the street, and Mr. Henderson leaned against his white picket fence, chatting with his son about their weekend fishing trip. Everything was fine; I was fine.
Two voices floated above the others, and I looked down the street curiously. A boy and a girl, each no more than six years old, were making their way down the sidewalk. She was skipping, and he was walking b
"Cartwheels" by NoOtherKing

_{Having a bad day? Sometimes it doesn't take much more than the voices of
children to put your life back in perspective, much like two children do for the narrator
in NoOtherKing's piece of flash fiction.}



For more information, including how to suggest a Deviation
to be featured, please visit us at DailyLitDeviations.

Thanks so much for supporting the lit community and this project!

~ The DailyLitDeviations Team ~


_{Prepared by: RunningBear5858}