Daily Literature Deviations for July 24, 2012

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Daily Lit Deviations for July 24th, 2012


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


Suggested by: halcyonshores
Featured by: LadyofGaerdon

Mature Content


Laid In The Cradle (That Is Her Mound And Furrow) by BackupPanic

Says the suggester: "a truly beautiful
and riveting piece of writing"



Suggested by Magnius159 and xlntwtch
Featured by Nichrysalis

Who gives this woman?No one can,
     for she was free and wild
          before she left my womb,
Said her mama.
No one can,
     for she was free and wild
          before she let go my hand,
Said her daddy.
No one can
     bind the wind that is her breath
     trap the water that is her blood
     cage the earth that is her bones
     capture the fire that is her heart
Said her granny.
No one may give what is not owned.
     

Who Gives This Woman? by wh0rem0ans

A short, very effective poem -- full
of fine images and even better thoughts.




Prose


Suggested by: angeljunkie
Featured by: SilverInkblot

Smokeless ScalesThe morning is turned red by the haze of pollution. I smell fumigation smoke and blazing forests as I collect the fallen strands of my hair from my bedclothes, wrap them around my fingers and tie them into a careless knot before throwing them into the dustbin. They'll be turned to ash eventually, when the trash collector's finished with them. Everything is.
The air prickles against my skin as I clean myself and dress in an attempt at making myself presentable. It works, mostly, though I get the sense that today will not be a good day for correct gendering. I look like a boy who's pretending to be a girl - a pretty boy, maybe, but a boy nonetheless.
My bag, packed and ready to go, is slumped by the door. I shoulder it, give one last glance to the apartment and leave. My keys are starting to rust, but they're still sharp and cold against my hands, and they get their job done.
"Still trying to save the world?" I ask flippantly as I dig around in my carryall for my packed breakfast. My nei

Smokeless Scales by Mademise


Suggester: "Mademise throws you into a
world of slightly odd characters but never lets
you get lost, and by the time you reach the end,
you'd really rather stay a bit longer."



Suggested by WritersInk
Featured by LiliWrites

1. Complicated200 Theme Challenge.
1. Complicated.
----------------
    "How complicated can it be?"
    So he said, as together we stared at the problem of the moment. Our professor's minute, near-incomprehensible handwriting marched all over the whiteboard, numbers and chemical symbols sprawled across every spare inch in a strange, orderly dance.
    "Famous last words," was my muttered reply. With great reluctance, I tore a page out of my notebook and uncapped my pen. Biting on the end of it, I narrowed my eyes at the offending symbols. Carbon, oxygen, another two carbons, hydrogen...the alcohol becomes an aldehyde which becomes a carboxylic acid. Nitriles and amides swam together as I mentally recited the rules that had been drilled into us again and again.
    I slammed my pen down. "This is impossible." Across the room, our professor stooped to check Ariadne's work. His lips pursed and his brow furrowed, and we kne

Complicated by Drakard-14

Suggester writes: "Here's a story which takes
a simple, every day scene and really brings it to life.
This is what happens when an author does the simple
things well: it's packed with wit, suspense and keen observation. "




Foreign Language


Featured by shebledgreenink
dunfjaer down feathers
the sound of shadow, light from the window makes shadows on empty room, is like silence, the thumping sounds seem remote, on the floor, in an hour, concluded with jaded skin, light from the window will reach us, sound of body mass thumping, covered in down feathers, thorn pillows from forgotten fights, right now not long ago, fluttering flesh, bodies of repetitive  movements, repeating again, a little red droplet on the ever-white skin, repetitions, skin turning red, clinging each other, breathing, sound of skin fractioning skin, sound of liquid and trembling body parts, fleshy arms, quivering breasts, sound of breath, white skin turning red, thorn pillows, hand smacking pulp, skin turned red, bottled-up screams, neighbours can't tell cautiously insane, detached reality is too real all at once, not ready, I'm in the room all too much, she's inflamed and eager, ready, down feathers floating in the air, can't focus on room, movements, she's pushing me in,

dunfjaer by Nabium

A bit uncomfortable to read, but a story
that needed to be told. This piece is what the
transgressive genre is all about. And there's
an English translation!



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Prepared by: LiliWrites
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Comments3
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Drakard-14's avatar
Thanks so much for featuring my work :)