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January 1, 2013
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Guidelines | How to Suggest a DLD | Group Administrators | Affiliation | Chatroom | Current Staff Openings

Daily Lit Deviations for January 1st, 2013


We are proud to feature today's Daily Literature Deviations!
You can show your support by :+favlove:ing this News Article.

Please comment and :+fav: the features and congratulate the artists!


:pointr: For all of the featured artists: If you receive a DD for one
of your pieces featured by DLD please note LiliWrites.

We will include you and your piece in a special recognition news article. :pointl:


Poetry


Featured by: SilverInkblot

Good Dolls Gone Mad by Hfeather53

There's a subtle creepiness hiding between
the lines and behind innocence, and the image
really stuck with me in the best and worst way.



Suggested by: intricately-ordinary
Featured by: TwilightPoetess

I Had No BreathI had no breath, so I asked the wind
For a word or two, but I can't begin
To describe how much it hurt
To ask him this is the very worst of deeds
Oh, mighty Breather
Have you no life for me?
I had no heart, so I asked the moon
What gives her life in the month of June
But her smile painted darts
"My dearest child, a heart would only bleed."
But sacred Mother
The pain is life to me

I Had No Breath by Golden-Leaves

From the suggester: This poet's personal
questions make for a compelling conversation
between her and the inanimate life that guides her.



Suggested by Oilux
Featured by: thetaoofchaos

Odyssea Nunquam Abstitit:Odyssea Nunquam Abstitit:
(Dreams)
When the blue jacaranda mocked the sky
Sleep bound is she, the drowsy brilliance
below the whispering branch.
Her Cańo Cristales hair,
strewn amongst wild blue and green;
Though her eyes
tell of time waiting,
when the wind was lonesome and
slaughtering butterflies in its chill.
They turned, almost at once
Eyes gray, yet dancing with the frenzied
glory of cosmos.
Striking out at her wanderer, like a warm
crash of wave.
She understood, "Your laurel leaves speak of death
but I still need you."
And he wept, "Your garland
speaks of the flowers, streams
and the meadows which is our home."
(She answers)
"Here, is where I still love you
this place, where arms renounce arms
with care, warmth  and adoration."
(He dreams)
"My arms tangle in shadows, and
my mind only imagines; night falls
on my face within the whirlpool;
Your spark is the farthest from me; distraught  
and left desolate, in Ithaca."
(She holds all his hopes)<

Odyssea Nunquam Abstitit: by Canis44

Per the suggester: "I think it's a wonderful
piece, and it is by far one of my favorite
literature pieces of all time."




Prose


Featured by doodlerTM
Georgia, 1946"Damp night air and hot summer fear.  Looking through the crosshairs while my face caught fire. Flex, shudder, pull, fall. Dust, moonlight, blood. The walk home though the long grass is unbearably uneventful. No serpent to bite or scorpion to sting. Just guilt, silence, dread. Hiss, hiss, the grass screams and clings to your ankles."
Georgia, 1946 by kittensandarsenic

This piece shows that prose doesn't need
to be full of excess dialogue or outright
descriptions to tell an open and impressing story.



Featured by xlntwtch
The Last SongDo you think we'll get a last song?
I'm not sure.  This diary I'm writing in is full of holes.  It's sopping like a wet sponge.  It reeks, but what doesn't in the filth and the mess?
Storm's passing.  Not like I've ever seen here.  Even the explosive storms of my youth; running in the fields, the junkyards, the rust-ravaged train tracks of old wasn't quite like this.  
Something's exploded against the skyline.  Orange is reflecting off the glass; the spider-striped, near shattered glass I kicked two weeks ago while mowing the grass.
It might be the gas works.  Or the chemical sheds.  Weyrdstorms do this, you know.  That's what the warnings said.  Electricity and chaos and hellish atomic confusion mixed into an atmospheric slurry and let to rage.  I ask the question because music's the one thing I'm yearning for right now.  It settles me, helps me think.  Always has, though keeping my sister's sniveling furthest from my head might be an ulterior motive.
Do I think I'm escaping this plac

The Last Song by DodgingTheBeat

Subtle and fascinating storytelling takes
readers along for what may be a last song.






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: thetaoofchaos
Daily Literature Deviations is a group that is dedicated to bringing literature to the forefront of the deviantART community. We attempt to accomplish this by daily featuring Literature artists from around the community that deserve the recognition, but are not getting it.

Each day we will feature 5 deviations from the Literature categories in a News Article. In order to support the artists that we feature, we ask that you :+fav: the news article as well as check out the individual pieces. We understand that each day you may not be able to check out each and every one of the pieces. We just ask that you make an attempt to help support the growing Literature community and these artists.
:icondodgingthebeat:
DodgingTheBeat Featured By Owner Jan 2, 2013   Writer
Thanks so much for featuring "The Last Song"!
Reply
:iconhfeather53:
Hfeather53 Featured By Owner Jan 1, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you so much >.<
Reply
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