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Daily Lit Deviations for March 21st, 2013
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Poetry
Suggested by: ~Disaster-N-Beauty
Featured by: =DrippingWords

Wolf and LambBeckon the full moon,
Call out to spirits of past,
Where the white wolf sings
The harvest moon breaks through the trees,
To a land protected by night seekers.
The silence broken by harmonious melodies,
Sung by the wolves- the midnight keepers.
The full moon breaks the night,
Ravens of mourning taking to flight.
Wolves howl to their lost,
Through the wind and the frost,
Where the world awaits twilight.
Midnight moon above,
Take away hunger of wolf,
Lest he betray sheep
Violent storm across the sea,
Siren song which holds my fate,
Draws the end of the voyage to me,
To the shores for my greed and hate,
Where I shal
"Wolf and Lamb " by =star-blazer
Suggester says: "A very well written
and powerful piece broken into stanzas
to tell multiple little stories, all starting
and ending with the same beauty."
Featured by: =SilverInkblot

Haiku IIIwhite cherry blossoms
melt on frosted window panes -
harbinger of Spring
Haiku III by ~tickersymbol
A beautiful haiku to
herald the coming of spring.
Featured by: =SilverInkblot

In barren hearts of fools I call my friendsIn barren hearts of fools I call my friends,
An unrich flower grows; a farmer's rose,
That blooms whichever way air traffic sends
This steerless seed, adrift without repose.
Their lands be arid, acres reft of life;
A dried up desert, nemesis to growth;
Still grows that poppy, overcome all strife
With enemies all other life does loathe.
And though the daffodils might mock its leaves,
The noble rose resent its nimble throne,
No haughty flower has its red outshone;
Cause while these bourgeois plants, uptight, tide well
Inside their wealthy master's garden cell,
All these will wither, wealthy care deprived.
In barren hearts of fools I call my friends by ~Filiuk
The extended metaphor of this
Italian sonnet blossoms into a
lovely message in the final stanza.
Prose
Featured by: =SilverInkblot

on wars and the galaxy
On Wars and Galaxies
When I was five years old, I was entranced by the drooping sky. Perhaps the stars were too heavy for its celestial blankets, their weight pressing towards the gray shadow of the earth. On new year's day the fireworks soared so high and loud my little heart pounded in my fragile ribcage until it was bruised blue, because what if the transience of those fiery skyflowers explode next to a star, and wake them up from their sleep? My head was always hung low, focused on the floor searching for a piece of ground without a shadow, winding between the highway legs of the grownups who are my neighbors. They are all doublesided
on wars and the galaxy by *ersatz-moon
This short war story reads
like poetry, blending space
imagery with the hells of war
in ways that will surprise you.
Featured by *xlntwtch

Synesthesia Water falls drip by drop from the tin roof and Tim gets a sense that time is slowing to a stop. Each speck takes its ten foot dive to earth so slowly that Tim finds it serene to watch, as though nature was jumping to her death. When a drop finally crashes against the concrete the sound explodes in a vivid blue in front of his eyes.
His heart rams against his ribcage repeatedly, trying to break free. It is almost painful, but not quite, to feel it hammer away at his chest. With each barrage his heart makes his body shakes and he hears a rumble within himself. The growl is fierce and
Synesthesia by ~AtrumMiles
An action-packed vignette
that colors all in a very
well-written and uncommon way.
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~ The =DailyLitDeviations Team ~
Prepared by: =LadyofGaerdon






